Our Shiavoed Dryer

Yesterday, our dryer went on life support.  It was no longer functioning as a dryer should.  We suspected internal damage, perhaps beyond repair.  The washer, which has been "married" (but only common-law) to the dryer for maybe 30 years or more, wanted us to unplug her so she could die a natural death.
We couldn't do that.  We still had hope upon hope that there was life yet in the old girl; that she might come out of the coma and once again dry our clothes the way she used to.  So soft and fluffy.  And warm.  We couldn't let her go.  The washer said it's done (calling her "it" - so cold.  And damp) It was an impasse.
So, there we were, last night, the washer was on one side of her, with a full load of damp clothes, already ready to move on to a more modern and attractive model of dryer.  I couldn't believe its cold-hearted detachment.  I mean, what is the washer?  A machine!?  They spent 30 years together, washing and drying in harmony.  However it turned out, I knew that I would forever hate that bastard washer from here on.  I spent the entire night, on the other side of our darling dryer, sitting vigil, occasionally wiping it off with a fresh Bounce sheet.  I just knew she had some life left in her.
Here's a picture of our princess.  See how her mouth is still open, as if she's wanting to accept damp clothes:



Finally, after an arduous night, the decision was made to call in an appliance doctor and we agreed we'd both abide by his suggested course of action.  After a delicate operation, the doctor discovered that her heater was no longer functioning and while there was still power coursing through her, in her current state, she was no longer capable of functioning as a normal dryer.  He then said something very hurtful:  "As it is now, it's basically just a big metal piece of garbage.  Or art, I suppose."
I reminded him just how attached we were to the dryer, and that's when the appliance doctor said he could try and replace the damaged heater for another one (if he even had the proper replacement organ), but couldn't guarantee how long, if at all, she'd continue to work again.
We were 100% in favour of the operation, and the washer, too, reluctantly agreed that is was worth a shot.  So, after the appliance doctor discovered that he did indeed have a proper replacement heater, he went down to the basement to perform the operation.  After a gruelling, heart-wrenching 30 minutes, I heard the dryer start!  Was it heating?, I wondered.  Every step up the basement steps I heard the appliance doctor come, I knew it brought me one step closer to either wonderful or tragic news.
Finally, he came through the basement door.
"All done," he said oh-so casually.
"The heater working?" I asked, trying to hide my true, desperate emotions.
"Looks like it.  Hard to say how long it'll last, though".
Music To My Ears.  As he began to tell me of another dryer he recently revived, I couldn't help but think:  Whether it's only one more day of drying damp clothes, or another 30 years, I'm going to treasure every moment I have with that appliance.
So, there you go.  Praying does work.
And for those of you who thought Terry Shiavo was merely a mindless shell of a human, I offer you this story as proof that one never knows what is going on inside the mind of a machine.  Or a vegetable.  Except, well, you know.  Probably nothing.  Because machines don't have minds, per se.  And vegetables, whether human or actual vegetables, don't think.