Word: bladder
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...last I came under a huge archway and beheld the Grand Lunar exalted on his throne in a blaze of incandescent blue . . . The quintessential brain looked very much like an opaque, featureless bladder with dim, undulating ghosts of convolutions writhing visibly within . . . Tiers of attendants were busy spraying that great brain with a cooling spray, and patting and sustaining...
They thus bested the Northern city bosses: Tammany Hall's Carmine DeSapio, Chicago's Jake Arvey and Pittsburgh's Dave Lawrence. The bosses' candidate, Philadelphia City Councilman James A. Finnegan, was absent, recuperating from gall-bladder surgery. Lawrence explained with the sincerest form of flattery: "Why, he just had the same operation that Adlai Stevenson had." Later, at a meeting of committeemen from the Western states, Lawrence tried again. Said he: "I won't ask you to raise your hands, but I just wonder how many men in this room haven't had gallstones...
...first time since losing his appendix and rebellious gall bladder (TIME, June 28), resilient Harry Truman left his bed for the length of a lunch in a Kansas City hospital, drew himself up to a table and with gusto devoured a square meal. Near by lay a get-well-quick wire from Washington, signed by two White House visitors, old British friends of Truman's: Winston and Anthony. While his obituaries were being filed away for another day, Truman was finding out that even some of his old enemies seemed happy about his recovery: the Chicago Tribune, which barked...
...trouper though he is, he never made it. During the first act, grimacing in pain from what he thought was acute indigestion, he left the theater. Twenty-seven hours later, his longtime personal physician, Dr. Wallace Graham, relieved Harry Truman of a red-hot appendix and a gangrenous gall bladder. Practically bouncing off the operating table, Truman, in "excellent" condition, was a good bet to hit the sawdust trail again soon...
...said I didn't have no sign of kodiak trouble around the heart or no coroner's trombone disease where the blood gets shut off in the artillery ... I think they call it the I Oughta . . . Everythin' was okey dokel . . . wit' my gold bladder...