Word: stools
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...decided not to remove the remainder of the growth. During another routine examination last March, doctors found no evidence of the first polyp but discovered a second small growth, attached to the intestinal wall by a stalk, and found traces of blood in two samples of the President's stool. Although this finding suggested that bleeding was occurring in the intestine which could signal the presence of a malignancy, doctors were not immediately alarmed; eating red meat also sometimes leads to traces of blood in stool. Indeed, after Reagan was placed on a restricted diet, the blood traces disappeared. Still...
...just got so sick, I thought I was going to die,” he relates. “Then the guy behind me threw open the door, because they can see I was sick. All this air came in, and I just sat down on this stool there. The audience was very patient. They thought I was doing some weird meditation thing, like astroprojection or something...
...it’s taxing to have to repeat the facts—that the Yalies just don’t match up—again and again. Perhaps if they would just sit content in their number two seat (well, it’s really more of a stool in the corner), we wouldn’t have to expend so much effort. But the Yalies are true masochists. Nothing makes this point clearer than last year’s 37-19 smackdown. After an 80-yard drive to put the Bulldogs on the 5-yard line?...
Wilson is frail in other ways that the album was able to conceal completely. At the Orpheum he was stage furniture, installed on his stool at the beginning and rarely standing up. When he did move about, he staggered. He played his keyboard mostly at will; often he waved his hands in the air, keeping no better time than the more enthusiastic members of his audience. The backing band, which at times boasted a string section of five and a brass section of three, had a professional conductor...
...stage, with the simple phrase “Welcome back,” he became the rock avatar of years past, shedding his suit coat for a conservative gray T-shirt with the phrase “No. 2.” On the other side of the stool-perched boom-box, Jason Loewenstein leered over the audience, dwarfing his bass, clearly thrilled to be back in the city where Sebadoh was based. Unable to contain his glee, he teetered back and forth swigging from his Heineken and keeping time with Barlow’s lead guitar. When...