I hate reading these stories about Pratchett's health. It's such a tragedy, firstly for him and his family, but also for us as a people, to have such a treasure slip away from us, not to mention - at the risk of sounding grandiose - for me myself.
I first picked up a Discworld book when I was nine or ten years old, and the intervening twenty years hasn't made me want to stop. Reading my dad's copies of Lords and Ladies, Feet of Clay, and Maskerade were really formative experiences for me, and I feel the series reached a real crescendo with Nightwatch and Thud!.
That the man who had such a great influence on me could be made to suffer feels like an intensely personal tragedy. That a day might come very soon when I can no longer have the experience of picking up a new Discworld book - which reminds me, every time, of sneaking a paperback off the shelves in my dad's office - is just salt in the wound.