Interesting. I never knew this before, but apparently, back in 1995, Dan Quayle had the same kind of appendiceal tumor (a mucinous cystadenoma) that I had removed in 2006. As far as I can tell, he hasn't developed pseudomyxoma peritonei (PMP). Yet. According to my doc, this crap can reappear a decade or two after the appendix is removed...so you never say "never." It's weird that I stumbled onto this factoid today. I didn't really need a fresh reminder of my mortality and one specific form it may assume. It's OK. I'm becoming inured. And yes, that is a good thing. I don't mean to say that this "thing" hasn't changed my approach to life, given me all sorts of new appreciations and helped me to shed all kinds of extraneous bullshit and all that, only that...I can't control or do anything to avert this potential future catastrophe. Nobody knows whether or not it will ever happen to me, and there's no point in living my life as if I'm walking with a thunderhead cloud perpetually hovering over my head, threatening to smite me with the force of a billion toasters dropped into a billion bathtubs.
Now I am off to Nordstrom's to bitch about the coat I bought less than a month ago. It's a cute, double-breasted pea coat with really cool buttons that unfortunately tend to fall off. Seriously, out of 7 buttons on the front of the coat (3 on each side on the outside, plus one inside button that keeps the double-breastedness from sagging), I have lost 4, there's one more that's ready to fall off, plus an essentially non-functional button on one of the cuff bands has fallen off. I'm going to demand that they re-attach all of the buttons that have fallen off (I managed to find all of them--so they're not really "lost"), and furthermore I am going to demand that they remove and re-attach all of the buttons that have not fallen off. If it was only one button, I would just sew it back on myself, but to have to re-attach 5 buttons (nope...6 buttons, including the one that is about to fall off--sheesh!), after owning the coat for less than a month, is completely ridiculous. I just wish I didn't have to take time out of my life to drag the thing down there, is all. Now where did I put that receipt.... (Please don't take the active verb in my first sentence too seriously--I'm going to ask them politely. If that doesn't work, then I might resort to bitching, but then my anger will be righteous, no?)
But what is up with all the fucking buttons, these days? I feel that the buttons falling pell-mell off my coat--and this coat is one in a long line of coats I've owned that can't seem to keep their buttons; not all of these coats have been new, either, some of them are vintage; and don't even get me started on other forms of machine stitching that come unstitched, like the seams and hems on t-shirts and pants--are indicative of a larger fraying of the social and existential fabric in the universe. Buttons are the canaries in our current collective coal mine, the trivial thieves stealing grains of sand from the hourglasses of our lives, indeed of all life. Appendix tumor, schmappendix tumor, FFS what are we going to do about these buttons???
Now I am off to Nordstrom's to bitch about the coat I bought less than a month ago. It's a cute, double-breasted pea coat with really cool buttons that unfortunately tend to fall off. Seriously, out of 7 buttons on the front of the coat (3 on each side on the outside, plus one inside button that keeps the double-breastedness from sagging), I have lost 4, there's one more that's ready to fall off, plus an essentially non-functional button on one of the cuff bands has fallen off. I'm going to demand that they re-attach all of the buttons that have fallen off (I managed to find all of them--so they're not really "lost"), and furthermore I am going to demand that they remove and re-attach all of the buttons that have not fallen off. If it was only one button, I would just sew it back on myself, but to have to re-attach 5 buttons (nope...6 buttons, including the one that is about to fall off--sheesh!), after owning the coat for less than a month, is completely ridiculous. I just wish I didn't have to take time out of my life to drag the thing down there, is all. Now where did I put that receipt.... (Please don't take the active verb in my first sentence too seriously--I'm going to ask them politely. If that doesn't work, then I might resort to bitching, but then my anger will be righteous, no?)
But what is up with all the fucking buttons, these days? I feel that the buttons falling pell-mell off my coat--and this coat is one in a long line of coats I've owned that can't seem to keep their buttons; not all of these coats have been new, either, some of them are vintage; and don't even get me started on other forms of machine stitching that come unstitched, like the seams and hems on t-shirts and pants--are indicative of a larger fraying of the social and existential fabric in the universe. Buttons are the canaries in our current collective coal mine, the trivial thieves stealing grains of sand from the hourglasses of our lives, indeed of all life. Appendix tumor, schmappendix tumor, FFS what are we going to do about these buttons???
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