Cook: Could you please pass the appendix?

David Cook

WARNING: This column contains graphic images. Mild-mannered adults may wish to turn the page. Kids, however, will love it.

It began, as many things do, with something small. And forgettable. Kind of like black jelly beans. Or Malta.

My appendix.

Funny thing, that appendix. Little guy that serves no biological purpose other than stringing along like a windsock at one end of my colon. I’ve gone decades without thinking about my appendix. Eyes? Feet? Lungs? Love ’em every day.

But my appendix?