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Wednesday, August 24, 2016

A Solution to Problematic Kidney Stones?

It is getting complicated for me as I try to maintain my old schedule with my wife Jack home as much as she is now that Mango Thai Restaurant has been sold and will not exist as a Thai restaurant.

Last evening she went to bed early.  When I finally joined her either shortly before midnight or shortly after that hour, she had already gotten back up.

I learned from her today that she may not have returned to bed until as late as 2:30 a.m.

It might have been around 6:00 a.m. when I took a bathroom break, and then I tried for further sleep.

Some did come, but when I checked the time possibly as late as 8:40 a.m., I decided to get up.  I wanted to get some work done while I could on the new post I started this past Monday at my Latin Impressions website.

Jack accommodated me by not getting up until maybe noon.

Pote had been out earlier in her car, and had taken his girlfriend ─ who had spent the night here with him ─ someplace, for he returned without her.  Is Jack's presence the reason?

After all, the two have typically been spending all of their Tuesdays and Wednesdays together for quite a number of recent weeks.  Why else would the two-day sleep-in fest get curbed?

Anyway, it's been a beautiful sunny day, but I was not able to do any sunbathing.  Jack never went anywhere until the early afternoon, and was back home again in an hour or so.

I'm having difficulty squeezing in my various small exercise breaks that I try to put in over the course of any one day.

I do very much regret not having had the alone-time to do any sunbathing.  This kind of weather will all-too-soon be history for the year.

During the noon-hour Jack was outside cleaning and vacuuming the car she uses, and she mentioned that the big green compost container needs cleaning because it "has worms."

I suspect that she meant that it needed to get dumped, and it was in fact out at the curb and had already been emptied earlier by one of the trucks.

I went out to get it, and noted that a little of its rotting content had spilled during the dumping process, and the container itself smelt absolutely putrid.

I hauled it back into the open carport and lifted the lid to peek into it.  A maggot fell onto the cement floor.

I contemplated scooping it up with a leaf or something and dropping it back into the container; but before I ever made that move, I observed two more just drop out from under the closed lid entirely on their own.

The heck with that!

I left them for whatever might become their fate.

Late in the noon-hour I noticed a fly in the house.  The full details are below this photo ─ the description is from the Google album where I have the photo now housed: 

I noticed a fly had gotten into the house early this afternoon (Wednesday, August 24, 2016); and even though it was at a window in an out-of-the-way area, I decided that I would go and get a plastic container to entrap it and release it outdoors.

When I located what I wanted and had returned, the fly was ascending an edge of the window frame, and was thus somewhat inaccessible.

It moved itself higher and higher; and then I noticed one of those jumping spiders nestled almost out of sight as the fly approached.

The fly stupidly walked headlong into the spider, and was evidently grabbed at the head.

It's feeble wing-beatings did nothing, and they did not last for long.

And soon the fly had stopped moving at all.

I've not clearly seen the spider ─ it is somewhat into a recess of the window frame.  However, I think that it is actually smaller than the fly.
Around mid-afternoon I realized that Jack might be planning on going out again.  She had changed out of her casual wear.

And then at about 3:50 p.m., after I had escorted her out to the car while helping carry some food she was taking along with her, Pote joined her.

I suspect that he was just getting as lift to somewhere, and that they were not going to the same destination ─ wherever that would be for Jack.

So she left, and my impression is that she will not be back this evening.  But I just don't know.

And now this evening I have to deal with my younger brother Mark when he gets home ─ the new washing machine that Jack bought is to be delivered sometime tomorrow morning, and we have to clear away the defective machine.

As I reported yesterday, the defective machine may well be fixable ─ Mark just never had time to check it over on the weekend because he was away camping.

Besides, the machine it had replaced is sitting there in the laundry area, and it has been repaired by Mark ─ we didn't need another machine.

He's going to be right bummed when he learns of all of this ─ especially since he'll be drunk.

So where the heck to put the defective machine?  If it truly is fixable, hauling it out into the open carport may well result in its disappearance.

I can but wait and see what the evening brings....

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Have you ever heard of a fruit called ─ among other names ─ garcinia cambogia?

Just a little research will reveal that it has been proposed by many as a weight-loss aid.

However, researchers have now found that it just may have the solution to the kidney stones that so many people suffer from.

The active ingredient in this case is hydroycitrate, or hydroycitric acid (HCA).

HCA can not only inhibit the development of these infernal calcium oxylate crystals, but it will even dissolve those that have already formed.

I am starved for time, so that's all I will speak of ─ if you are interested in learning more, here are two reports on a latest study about this:



I am just happy that I do not suffer from kidney stone development.

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Since I am not expecting to have time to do a comprehensive post today, I am going to at least include this entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.
SUNDAY, August 24, 1975

I got up about 6:10 a.m., but was very tired.  About 3:15 a.m. I got up and changed due to a NE.

I left about 9:30 a.m. to do my laundry; the place was so crowded I did not bother drying there, and came home with a Columbian television guide.

It looks like I am to fall into Bill's hands today; the sun forecasted for today is not valid.

He came about 1:30 p.m.; he said Mark & Cathy were going to the States with mom, and he wished to know if I cared to babysit with him.

I declined.

He then asked what time I would care to be picked-up after his duty was discharged, since he had a bottle of vodka; but I said I would likely retire early, having to work tomorrow.

So it appears my dream of yesterday is concreting, and I may be able to start my days very early in the morning again.

I soon after performed 400 easy leg-raises, and only quit from my fear of maybe wearing the tissue off my lowermost spine; I could otherwise have comfortably doubled the attainment.

This morning I created my final soup, eating about half for lunch; the other half is scheduled for supper after my full exercising and shower.

I plan to retire at 6:00 p.m.
Reportedly during the night, I realized that I had experienced a nocturnal emission ("NE"), and so I opted to get up to change my undershorts.

I usually went to a laundromat on the weekend, but tried to do so as soon after it opened as possible in order to avoid a crush of other launderers.

I likely found that copy of The Columbian discarded at the laundromat.

My old friend William Alan Gill and I generally hooked up on the weekend.  When he came by that afternoon, he had the news that my younger brother Mark ─ and Mark's girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther ─ were apparently going to take my mother Irene Dorosh on a drive into the States to probably do a little shopping.

Jeanette ("Cathy") had two little girls, and it would seem that Bill got enlisted to babysit them.  It was a chore I wasn't fussy about.

From what I understand of my younger self, I was intending to return to a fitness schedule that included getting to bed ─ and rising ─ very early.

I was only working one day a week ─ usually on Friday.  But when I reported in for work the past Friday, there was nothing for me to do.

And so I was coming in on Monday to make up for the lost day.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

A Botox Injection as an Incontinence Treatment? A Stupid and Dangerous Choice!

The anxiety and depression I felt over much of yesterday eased once the evening had arrived and I began watching T.V. and doing some drinking.

Unfortunately, that all somehow translated into a resurgence of my problematic turpitude and I sat up here at my computer until around 2:30 a.m., immersed into that which merits no mentioning.

I retired in moral and spiritual turmoil at what nigh culminated, imploring God to free me from my present deleterious habitation by making it financially possible for me to leave this baleful isolation that is corrupting and distorting whatever might once have been deemed wholesome within me.

And so I soon slept.

Towards 6:30 a.m. I was awake and uncomfortable enough to opt to take a bathroom break.  I was overtired ─ too much so to rise for the day ─ but I knew I would be unable to be productive if I did not sleep further.

I suppose some further sleep did come, and just after 8:00 a.m. I finally did rise to confront the day.

My youngest step-son Pote and his girlfriend were in bed enjoying the first day of their 'weekend,' since they each have Tuesday and Wednesday off work.  He works in a sports shop at Guildford, and she works somewhere in a restaurant; and consequently, they have employment that does not recognize the true weekend.

Somehow, they managed to coordinate their two days off so that they could be together and bedevil me with their nigh unpalatable omnipresence. 

I spent most of the morning working on the new post I began yesterday at my Latin Impressions website, but it is far from complete ─ in fact, not quite 40%.  I may have it finished and published on Thursday, but that is not certain.

The day is gorgeously sunny, so sunbathing was on my agenda.  And at 12:14 p.m., I began well over an hour of lying out on the backyard sundeck, and wearing just a pair of brief shorts.

When finished, I collected a small batch of leftovers my wife Jack had brought home from her Sunday visit to the Thai Buddapnayanuntarama Buddhist Monastery (BBM) in Burnaby.

Very soon after finishing it, at around 2:00 p.m. my wife Jack showed up.  It appears that she will be home for some while, for she brought home material she clearly plans to cook up.

However, at present she is away with Pote and his girlfriend ─ all I know is that Jack said she was going off to price some sort of machine.

I bloody hope she isn't thinking of buying a washing machine or dishwasher or stove!  I am draining away my small RRSP account trying to pay the monthly $1,600 mortgage because I am getting no significant help meeting that payment.

We have functioning appliances ─ it is the mortgage that needs to be dealt with each and every month.  There is no money available to be squandered on some "machine."

No wonder I so often sink into such hopelessness and despair.

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One of my favourite T.V. series back in the latter 1960s was The Wild, Wild West ─ I thought Robert Conrad as James West was magnificent.  

The actor's physique, athleticism, and good looks truly impressed me ─ in fact, I felt that if I ever got to be wealthy, I would acquire outfits like those he wore.  They were the best-looking suits I had ever seen because of how functional they were.

Soon after the T.V. series came out, Gold Key Comics started up a series by the same name.

Unfortunately, even though the series did start off with covers featuring images from the T.V. series, by about the eighth issue onwards, only artwork was exhibited.

I decided to buy those first seven issues back then just for the covers, and I kept the covers to this day.

I have previously posted scans of the first six issues' covers, so I want to post the final scan now ─ the description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the scans filed:

The final issue of Gold Key's The Wild, Wild West to feature actual T.V. series scenes on the front cover.

I believe that it was the seventh issue in the Gold Key series, and was apparently published in October 1969.

From this point on, the comics featured mere artwork inside and outside.

I loved the T.V. series, and was not in the least interested in 'cartoons' portraying it.

And that being so, I only kept the covers that featured images from the series.

That's rather unfortunate, for there is no value in a cover ripped away from the comic book that it had once graced.
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It is a rare night when I do not rise and make use of the bathroom.

Even though I may pass very little fluid, that little which accumulates is irritating.  I expect that it is concentrated with the superfluous portions of the nutritional supplements that accompanied my supper, as well as by-products from that supper, and the alcohol I will have consumed over the evening.

So I rise to gain that bit of relief, and to also drink a quantity of water ─ I tend to dehydrate a little.

However, some people as they get on in years (I am 66) somehow need to rise numerous times during the night to avail themselves of the toilet.

I can't imagine being so desperate as to actually seek injections with Botox ─ and yes, as that Wikipedia link shows, 'Botox' stand for botulinum toxin.  But people are making that choice ─ more out of ignorance than out of desperation, I would hope.

As Wikipedia says, "botulinum is the most acutely lethal toxin known...".

I posted about this very recently, but it looks as if I shall be doing so again.

A recent study has revealed that the injected toxin can travel via neuron pathways to remote locations in the body.  It was known before that the toxin could travel these neuron  pathways, but it was not  known that it could travel as far as it apparently seems able to do.


Here are a few articles reporting on that study:

UNIVERSITY of WISCONSIN-MADISON



Science Alert

Physicians actually prescribe this poison!

Note this from a website promoting Botoxin for treatment of incontinence:
IMPORTANT SAFETY INFORMATION

BOTOX® may cause serious side effects that can be life threatening. Get medical help right away if you have any of these problems any time (hours to weeks) after injection of BOTOX®:
  • Problems swallowing, speaking, or breathing, due to weakening of associated muscles, can be severe and result in loss of life. You are at the highest risk if these problems are pre-existing before injection. Swallowing problems may last for several months. 
  • Spread of toxin effects. The effect of botulinum toxin may affect areas away from the injection site and cause serious symptoms including: loss of strength and all-over muscle weakness, double vision, blurred vision and drooping eyelids, hoarseness or change or loss of voice, trouble saying words clearly, loss of bladder control, trouble breathing, trouble swallowing.
Did you notice buried away in that second bulleted warning that Botox can actually cause "loss of bladder control?"  

Imagine that!  A patient submits to being treated with this toxic material to help aid in controlling incontinence; but instead, he or she probably permanently suffers what I expect is total loss of bladder control!

Steer clear of this material for whatever purpose it may be promoted.

It would seem logical that improvement of the muscle tone of the bladder would assist with incontinence troubles.

I read that an Indian plant with the botanical name Crataeva nurvala can help with this. 

The following quote is from page 20 of a 182-page document titled EFFECTIVE NATUROPATHIC TREATMENTS IN POST VIRAL CHRONIC FATIGUE SYNDROME:
Crataeva nurvala (Crataeva).  Increases smooth muscle tone in uterus and bladder and helps clear urinary tract infections.  
Crataeva nurvala stem bark decoction improves the tone of the smooth muscle and helps in the downward migration of stationary uretric calculi which encourage the spontaneous passage of calculi. Crataeva nurvala also improves the tone of the urinary bladder and increase the explusive force of urination so that the amount of residual urine is reduced in case of prostatic hypertrophy. Due to its anti inflammatory action the drug also reduces prostatic congestion.
Those are just examples ─ there are numerous similar statements out there.

Stay away from Botox!

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I have no idea how long my wife Jack plans on being home.

She's back ─ and yes, she did buy a washing machine, even though we already have a spare to replace the one that's acting up.  And she charged the $800 on her VISA card.

The appliance is to be delivered this coming Tuesday.

Damn it, I wish she would discuss things first.

I am going to close now with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement unit in New Westminster

My room was being rented in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
SATURDAY, August 23, 1975

I got up before 9:00 a.m. feeling short on sleep.

Bill came over while I was cooking hamburgers; he got off work slightly early.

He insisted I listen to a new Gene Pitney tape, so I rode down to and waited for him by Field's where he had to pick up a couple pairs of pants.

He was with me some while, so I refrained from eating longer than I cared.

We nearly talked ourselves into going to the Country Boy's.

I will be leaving for mom's about 1:45 p.m., hoping Art has the tomatoes and that mom will be interested enough in obtaining them to drive  me home.

There is a fair amount of sunshine.

I was most of the way over the bridge when a car behind me gave me a start with its horn; it was Mark, Cathy, & kids; they stopped before the Scott turn and took me to mom's; she was shopping but Alex was there.

Mark took off on an unsuccessful shoe hunt while Cathy & I picked blueberries.

Phyllis came over on her way to work while Mark was gone, hoping to get mom to babysit Sherry.  

But Cathy got the job.

When she & Mark were finally leaving, they asked if I cared to come along, but I said no, for I had to yet phone Art about the tomatoes.

When I eventually did this after a very heavy supper, I learned that all of the tomatoes had been given away.

I stayed at mom's till dark, then left with a quantity of apples.

Tomorrow Mark & Cathy plan to go canoeing with Cathy & Al; I wonder if Bill will discover this.

My right knee, and not the cap, is painfully seizing up on me as it used to do, so I am forced to lay off running for a spell.

I bought a Grey Cup Toto ticket from mom.

I hoped to leave Bill a note saying I might sunbathe tomorrow at Queen's Park, but as often is, his car was gone.

I'll be abed afore midnight.
I hadn't gotten to bed the night before until about 2:40 a.m.  I had been at the home of my older friend, Art Smith.  He had said that his younger brother Judd (Gerald) ─ who worked at the Salvation Army thrift store on Columbia Street in New Westminster ─ was going to come into a mess of tomatos, and I could have a crate of them (however many that was).

Evidently Art misspoke.

Anyway, it was my old friend William Alan Gill who came visiting while I was cooking my hamburgers.  I imagine that he had the Gene Pitney tape playing in his car, and that's why I rode with him to Fields department store on Columbia Street.

I now have no idea what "Country Boy's" might have been.  I'm  unsure if that apostrophe is supposed to be there, or if 'Boys' was supposed to be plural.

My mother Irene Dorosh lived out in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.  And although the house is now demolished, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

It would take me about 1½ hours of fast walking to reach her home from my room in New Westminster.  

Alex was her husband.

I was nearly over the Pattullo Bridge when my younger bother Mark honked at me as he drove back into Surrey in his Vega.  With him were his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther and her two little girls.

Mark and Jeanette ("Cathy") were renting a home together located in Whalley.

They saved me the rest of my hike to my mother's home, and seemed keen on paying a visit themselves.

My mother and Alex had apples, blueberries, raspberries, and lots of other things growing in their backyard.

It was my older maternal half-sister Phyllis who next dropped in at my mother's home to find someone to babysit her daughter Sherry.  Sherry was somewhat older than Jeanette's older girl, so Jeanette was always happy to have Sherry as company for her girls and vice versa.   

I declined the offer to come back to their house with Mark and Jeanette because I still had to make arrangements about those tomatoes, but there were none on offer as it turned out.

And I got to walk back to New Westminster after dark.

I often left Bill a note on his car in New Westminster, but just as often it was not there for me to leave a note.

I must have been getting well-tanned ─ normally I would not have sunbathed in a public place like Queen's Park.  I was very timid about stripping down due to some complexion problems. 

Mark and Jeanette were friends with a couple I only now remember as "Cathy & Al" ─ memory blurs because there were two Cathys and two Als in their social circle, and now I cannot recollect which of them were the couple.

Monday, August 22, 2016

Alzheimer's Genetic Predispostion Seen in Very Young Children

Watching T.V. last evening without any 2016 Olympic Games competitions to tune in felt somewhat odd.

Sure, the lengthy Closing Ceremony telecast was available, but I only popped in a few times to see what was happening.  I'm really only interested in the actual competitions of the Games.

I suppose that I was comfortably to bed well enough ahead of midnight, but when that first block of sleep broke, I found myself in a bit of a fix.  It was roughly 4:30 a.m., and I wanted to seek some bathroom relief ─ but my eldest step-son Tho was in the bathroom readying for work, and my younger brother Mark was doing the same in his bedroom across from mine.

In other words, I did not have access to his ensuite.

All I could do was attempt to relax and wait.

I must have dipped into a bit of a nap, but I did hear Tho drive away, and Mark soon thereafter follow suit.

I used the bathroom, and did my best to accrue further sleep.

It was shortly after 8:00 a.m. when I finally called it a night.

My youngest step-son Pote was up ─ his girlfriend had left a little earlier after having spent the night here with him.

And he was to head off shortly after 10:00 a.m. to catch his bus to work.

I spent a considerable part of the morning setting up a new post at my Latin Impressions website ─ a post that I hope I can have finished and published before Friday.

It has not been a good day, however.  I have been overrun with insecurity, uncertainty, loneliness, and fear.

One of my depressions has hold.

And as usual, it is born primarily of financial worry.  I feel so desperately all alone in this.

The day has been a mix of Sun and cloud, but none of that would much matter if only I lived far from here and could be abroad throughout the day in peace and privacy. 

I ventured out into the backyard in the early afternoon, and beginning at 1:46 p.m. I spent   40 minutes seated in a chair out on the lawn while I was wearing just a pair of cut-offs.

Practically the entire session was spent beneath cloud, though.

My sole lift this day is such a small thing.  Upon checking my AdSense account just prior to beginning this post, I saw that my account had accrued 48¢ thus far today after having no increase whatsoever the previous two days.

Most interesting to me is that 1¢ of that figure was derived from activity at the Quatar domain of this blog ─ that is, siamlongings.blogspot.qa.

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I have a photo I would like to post.  The description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the photo housed:

If I recall correctly, this photo was taken on Ko or Koh Samet, one of Thailand's popular tourist destinations.

I had been essentially escorted there by Tukta; and along with us were Tumma (pictured), Tukta's sister and the sister's child Earth, and Jack or Jak (now my wife).

We spent a few days there, and it was towards the end of my very first trip to Thailand in January 2003.
It was on Ko Samet one evening after dark that I had taken Jack aside and told her that I had come to love her.

And I had ─ a love that had grown out of a deep friendship and appreciation of the young woman for everything that she had done for me while I had been in her country and under her care.

I no sooner said those three words, when Jack immediately reciprocated with a husky, "I love you, too."

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Researchers have been able to identify brain differences in young people ─ even children ─ that resemble those of adults who have developed Alzheimer's disease.

The study is called Gray matter maturation and cognition in children with different APOE ε genotypes (doi: 10.​1212/​WNL.​0000000000002939), but only the abstract is available to the general public without payment of a fee.

Even so, I found that I could access the full study as an 11-page .PDF document at Sci-Hub.ac.

This would seem to indicate that there are genetic as well as environmental factors at work in the development of the disease.

There were 1,187 healthy young people involved in the study ranging in ages from three years of age to 20.

There is a short interview with lead author Linda Chang at researchgate.netStudy finds Alzheimer’s disease gene already makes its mark in childhood.

And here are some articles reporting on the study:




And there is a very good report on the study at The Wall Street Journal (Alzheimer’s Effects on the Brain Found in Young People), but a subscription is required to access it.  Notwithstanding, I located the whole article in a cache at web.archive.org ─ try this July 13, 2016, cache.

Just don't forget that other factors in life can lead to the development of Alzheimer's disease, including various medications.

One huge culprit is the class of drugs commonly known as statins.

Here's what Dr. Marc S. Micozzi, M.D., Ph.D., had to say in that context:
...Here are two simple steps you can take for "anti-aging" -- including preventing memory loss and dementia.

First, stay intellectually and socially engaged. Especially as you get older.

Second, don't take statin drugs. Ever. Period. And if you currently take them, make a plan to discontinue them.
These cholesterol-lowering medications have been shown to cause brain damage ─ among other indictments:

Healthy Food USA

Their side effects include memory loss, myopathy, cataract formation, and increased risk of diabetes.
What more do people need to know?

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I seemed to have selected the worst of the day to have been sitting outside ─ it has been remarkably sunny ever since.

I can't keep living as I am, shut away and isolated.  Friendless ─ or at least, not with any I can easily visit. 

And this crushing financial debt that keeps me a prisoner in my own home.

I cannot long sustain the turmoil that engulfed me earlier today.  I am ageing, and have less and less potential to live for.

Sometimes I cannot even imagine what potential doth remain to me.

I close now with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster

I was renting that room in a house on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I was only employed one day at week ─ Friday ─ at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that was then situated in a building right about where the New Westminster Skytrain Station now spills out onto Carnarvon Street.
FRIDAY, August 22 , 1975

I awoke about 6:00 a.m., and am extremely tired.

The weather today is to be mainly cloudy.

I plan this morning to take in my welfare paper and go to Safeway before heading into S.A.N.E.

I bought Harvest Crunch (raisins & dates).

Bill was at S.A.N.E. and said Esther has been off sick since Wednesday.  Anyway, there was nothing for us to do, so we left intending to show up on Monday to replace today.

I made a soup and ate the entire production.

About 12:30 p.m. I lied down, catching near a couple hours of sleep, I suppose, arising 2:45 p.m.

I soon learned it was raining.

After exercising and showering, shortly past 7:00 p.m. I left in the rain for Art's.

Keith was home, and Angie was preparing for work.

I learned that yesterday late evening dad was in town trying to get a couple bucks; I wasn't home, and he phoned Art to find him tied down with the kids and supposedly broke.  

I wonder his fate; he was apparently sober.

All night Art kept pushing drinks, but I only had about 3 vodkas; Keith went out for some while.

Art fed me some several day-old leftovers, and gave me 3 tomatoes to take home.  Tomorrow I am to get a case of them, thanks to Judd at the Salvation Army.

I will be abed 2:40 a.m.
I was eating quite a lot of Quaker Harvest Crunch, believing it to be healthy. 

An older chap named Bill Sevenko was my co-swamper on the blue pick-up truck generally driven by dear Esther St. Jean, a sweetheart in her early 40s. 

For whatever reason, I can no longer remember Bill.

Today, S.A.N.E. exists as Fraserside Community Services Society.

Art Smith was also in his early 40s, and had been another co-worker of mine at S.A.N.E.  A couple of evenings earlier, I had promised him that I would come by this day.

I no longer recall who "Keith" was, but Angie (Angelina) was Art's wife ─ she would have been preparing to go and put in her shift at what I believe was the Pacific Café on Columbia Street in New Westminster.

That hurts me to read about my financially desperate father Hector.

I was likely avoiding letting loose with the drinking because I would have become unabandoned, and I wanted to be in control so that I would get home sensibly, and have a healthy Saturday the following day.

Art loved to get me drunk with him on Alberta brand vodka and/or Villa brand sherry.

The tomatoes were provided by Art's brother Judd (Gerald) who was employed at the Salvation Army thrift store on Columbia Street in New Westminster.

It would appear that I managed to extricate myself from Art's home reasonably unscathed.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

America's Hopelessly Polluted Drinking Water

Despite admitting that I cannot recall last night's bedtime, I know that it succeeded midnight ─ but probably by not very much.

That first major break in sleep that merited a bathroom break was around 6:00 a.m. ─ initially I thought it was a weekday.

Sleep was uneasy thereafter, but I remained in its pursuit until after 8:30 a.m. ─ an unusually late start to my day when it doesn't involve my wife Jack keeping me up excessively late.

My youngest step-son Pote had already gone to work.

I had a hike to the government liquor store lined up, but first I got to work at trying to complete the post I began last Monday at my Lawless Spirit website, and I actually completed and published it:  Holistic Elements II.


I was feeling unusually good.  In fact, I was quite eager to get to work at my next post, but then I took note that the time was approaching 11:00 a.m.

I needed to get myself ready and away before my eldest step-son Tho had gotten up; or the homecoming of either my wife Jack, or my younger brother Mark.

It was in fact 11:37 a.m. when I set forth.

At that time of the day, it was mostly sunny out there.

I first wanted to pick up a few things at Save-On Foods here in Whalley ─ the store would be just over half-way in the two-mile walk to the government liquor store at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard. 

I never expected to spend as much as I did while doing that shopping.

By the time I visited the liquor store for the bottle of rum that I was after ─ plus a half-dozen cans of beer ─ I had parted with $100.10.

That has put my chequing account into a bit of jeopardy.

The $1,600 monthly mortgage will probably get debited tomorrow, but I also have a $200 credit card payment in the mail.

This morning I had transferred over to that chequing account $300 of $500 that I had stashed away from a June RRSP redemption, but my extravagance today in Whalley means that if both of those transactions happen tomorrow, I will have well less than $5 remaining in my chequing account.

But I have no idea if some other transaction might get applied to the account ─ I have so many automatic debits happening on it each month that it is impossible for me to recall all of them.

Consequently, I feel that I must put some further money into the account before I retire tonight.

As I said yesterday, I hate living this month-by-month worry over finances.

Anyway, by the time I had gotten back home, the sky had clouded right up, and my brother Mark was vacuuming out his van ─ he had been away to the Squamish area camping with his girlfriend Bev and some other couple since Friday.

I spoke with him for a short time, during which Tho also came outside and was soon to leave for the afternoon.  

Mark went upstairs to shower, and I took my half-dozen cans of beer out into the backyard, and sat in a chair facing towards where the overcast Sun was.

I cracked open one can of beer, but by the time I had completed drinking it, I found myself too unpleasantly cool ─ in fact, I had felt a few light drops of rain.  

So back into the house I brought myself and the remaining five cans of beer, and decided that I would instead prepare my day's second hot beverage and begin work upon this post.

While I was awaiting the boiling of my beverage's water, Mark came back downstairs from his shower and was soon to also leave for the afternoon.

I was home alone.

Upon coming here to my computer, a check of my AdSense account revealed that yesterday was a total bust ─ not one cent had been accumulated.

And thus far today, the situation was the same.

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The quality of drinking water in the U.S. is something Americans need to be very concerned about.

A recent study has found that six million people are drinking water with unsafe levels of a class of chemicals knows as PFASs ─ polyfluoroalkyl and perfluoroalkyl substances.

These toxic substances are broadly used in products ranging from cleaners, textiles, leather, paper and paints, fire-fighting foams, wire insulation, food packaging and wrappers, non-stick coatings on pans, and water-repellent clothing. 

The harm these things can do to us include ─ among other things ─ kidney cancer, thyroid problems, high cholesterol, hormone disruption, and reduced immune function. 

Now, although the study found that six million Americans were found to be drinking water with unsafe levels of PFASs, the drinking water of just about 100 million other Americans was not even tested ─ and it is not tested.  

And even worse:
“Virtually all Americans are exposed to these compounds,” said Xindi Hu, the study’s lead author. “They never break down. Once they are released into the environment, they are there.”
And worst of all:
Even at low levels, exposure to PFASs can be potentially harmful, Olsen added. "All the evidence suggests that very low levels of exposure can be problematic, especially for pregnant moms and developing children," he said.

Even if you know your water is contaminated with PFASs, there is little you can do, he said. "Your choices are to use a different source for drinking water, like bottled water, but there are no standards for these compounds in bottled water, either," Olsen said.

Common water filters you buy at the supermarket won't remove PFASs from water either, he said.

"You can get a filter that removes everything, but those are very expensive to buy and maintain, so you're kind of stuck," Olsen said. "The best solution is to prevent the pollution from getting into the water supply."
The responsible government agencies have given up trying to protect Americans from these things, and the Big Businesses manufacturing and making use of them have no intention of stopping.

So you're screwed if you cannot afford a whole house water filtration system if you happen to live in a house ─ and I'm not versed enough in these products to know what the option would be for someone living in an apartment.  Would a charcoal filtering device suffice?

And who wants bottled water?  The plastic leaches out its own problems, even if the water did come from a quality source.  

Here are some articles on that PFAS study:





Dr. Joseph Mercola published an extensive article back on January 16 that dealt with drinking water contaminants and water filtration systems:

 
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My wife Jack did come home ─ she had said yesterday that she would be by today.

She arrived mid-afternoon or 3:30 p.m. or so, bringing some food ─ she had attended the Thai temple in Burnaby.  Officially, it's the Buddapnayanuntarama Buddhist Monastery, and is presently at 4796 Canada Way.

It was some sort of special occasion, so there were numerous people there, and she had spent a fair amount of time at the event.

Incidentally, the sky hereabouts was pretty much cloud-free when Jack got home ─ I don't know what was going on with all the cloud earlier this afternoon.

Depending upon when I finish this post, I just might go back outside and sit for awhile.

Jack never stayed long, and was gone again by around 4:00 p.m., saying that she might be around again tomorrow.

I am going to close now with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house I was renting the room at was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
THURSDAY, August 21, 1975

I got up at 7:40 a.m.

So far the day is cloudy.

I planned to go to mom's, but just past 10:00 a.m. while washing out a pot, knocking came; I figured on David, but it was Mark.

He was on his way to Vancouver to apply somewhere, but will stop on his way back to take me canoeing.

He came, and we went to his place.  Then we all went to mom's to leave the kids.

I weighed myself in shoes, and registered 190!

For mail I had a Good News and Plain Truth, a second Olympic ticket from Montreal (it should have been from Toronto, or my first one anyway), Weirdbook Nine, and most exciting of all, my 6 Frazetta Conan posters.

We left, got a canoe on lower Scott, then returned for Mark's fishing rod.

I gave him $4 toward a bucket of delicious Brownies chicken.  Cathy, while Mark was getting the chicken, bought a long john for each of us.  We also had pop and cole slaw.

We ended at Pitt Lake; I set off at the fore with alarm paddling a while; but I let Mark take over for the duration.

We went a fair distance, picnicked on a shore, explored another section, and then returned.

A pithy description, as usual, but I do want to get to bed.  

Coming home, Mark bought us 6 beers in the Wild Duck Inn; then we went to the Commercial and had 9 more.

Then we went to their place.

I accompanied Cathy to collect the kids and pick up my stuff; we stayed awhile; Alex came home from town, feeling a few beer.

After getting back to Mark's, I soon left.  

From the top of the hill by Ruby's Drive-in I jogged leisurely home; the outside of my right knee is seizing upon me again.

Home, I fast exercised (I did leave the "no smorgasbord Saturday" note on Bill's car).

Bed by 12:40 a.m.
It's unfortunate that I didn't feel more like detailing the canoe venture on Pitt Lake ─ I honestly remember nothing of it.  

When my younger brother Mark first knocked at my room, I had believed that it was likely my old friend Philip David Prince.

Back at this time, Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther were renting a home together that was located on Bentley Road in Whalley ─ the house wasn't too far from 108th Avenue & King George Highway.

Jeanette had two beautiful little girls.

My mother Irene Dorosh's home was in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey ─ the house was roughly 4¼ miles from where Mark and Jeanette were living.

Although my mother's home no longer exists, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.  It was my main mailing address.

She and her husband Alex loved Jeanette and the two little girls, so it was never a problem having them babysit the kids. 

Apparently the mail awaiting me included my latest free issues of The Good News and The Plain Truth

Weirdbook Nine was the latest issue of a fantasy fiction periodical ─ a briefest of synopses of that specific issue is here, while the entire series is given similar treatment here.   

I wish that I had been able to retain all of the various publications like this that I had acquired back then.  Heck, I don't even remember those Frank Frazetta posters of Robert E. Howard's Conan, let alone whatever became of them.

Also in the mail for me was an Olympic Lottery ticket.

Upon dropping off the kids, we next rented a canoe somewhere on "lower" Scott Road (120th Street).  That doesn't really help me remember where we got it.

Then it was back to the house in Whalley so Mark could get his fishing rod.  We also bought the Brownie's fried chicken and some extras ─ Brownie's was very similar to Kentucky Fried Chicken, for anyone unfamiliar with the product. 

Once at Pitt Lake, I suspect that this was my first time in a canoe ─ that would be why I said I was in some alarm seated at the front.  Besides, I had no idea where to be guiding the darned thing.

A little research reveals that the Wild Duck Inn was demolished in 2008 (see here).  The Commercial Hotel never even lasted that long ─ it was apparently demolished in February 1998 (see here and here).

I rather suspect that those beer figures I quoted were for the table, and not what Mark and I each had.

Anyway, ultimately I was to hoof it back to my room from their home in Whalley ─ it had to have been well into the evening

I don't now recall where Ruby's Drive-In was, and I bet it's long-gone by now.  But it suffices to know that it had to have been fairly near to where Mark and Jeanette lived, since I said that it was at the top of the hill.

The note I left on my old friend William Alan Gill's car in New Westminster was one explaining to him that I wanted to forego our usual weekend visit to a smorgasbord ─ I could never control myself and always ate far too much, essentially incapacitating myself afterwards.

I generally had to return to my room and lie down until I eventually recovered.    

Generally my bodyweight throughout my adult life has been in the lower 180s in poundage, although there were times when it was into the 190s, and even as low as the lower 170s.

But I wouldn't have been exactly pleased to register at 190 pounds at my mother's home ─ even if I was fully dressed and wearing shoes.

By the way, it is too late for me to take the time to go back outside and sit in the sunshine.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Common, Symptomless Dental Root Tip Infections Contribute to Heart Ailments

It was certainly different having my wife Jack home all of last evening, and she cooked a grand feast.

But it was a fairly late night ─ when she finally went to bed, it had to have been about 1:15 a.m. at very least before I was also settled in.

As usual, sleep was initially decent.  By daybreak, however, it had become very broken.

Then when I sensed Jack rising and heard her leave the bedroom, shutting the door, I knew that she was likely up so that she could drive her youngest son Pote to work over at Guildford.

I rose too, and was soon at work trying to get as much done as possible on the post that I've been toiling upon since Monday at my Lawless Spirit website.

The post is still unfinished, darn it.  Maybe I will be fortunate to have it completed and published by tomorrow.

Jack did a little more cooking this morning; and then around 11:30 a.m. or soon thereafter, I saw her off.  I have no idea where she was bound, but she said that she would most likely be back tomorrow.

There was no token good-bye kiss ─ there hasn't been one for probably better than a couple of weeks.

Or those over with now too?

She still plans to go to Thailand to see her mother, probably in October.  She asked me again if I wanted to come along, but I declined, and cited the need for me to concern myself with the monthly mortgage payment.

For the first time since back in the Spring, Pote contributed $140 towards the $1,600 payment that will probably be debited from my chequing account on Monday, but tomorrow I will have to ensure that I transfer some of the remaining RRSP redemption I applied for back in June.

I had redeemed $2,500; but of course, $250 of that immediately went towards income taxation.

So of the $2,250 the redemption netted me, I presently have about $500 remaining.

Pote's $140 contribution put the chequing account at about $1,605, but I will be getting out tomorrow to buy myself a bottle of rum.  And there is a cheque in the mail as a $200 payment (due on Monday for a credit card).

Thus, I will need to ensure first that I transfer over about $300 of the $500.

Why the heck can't I come into some decent cash and be done with this constant worry?

Anyway, it's another hot sunny day.

At 12:14 p.m., I commenced just over an hour of sunning on the backyard sundeck.

It is 2:23 p.m. at present, and I am home alone.  I can't imagine having anything else to report concerning the day at this point.

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My younger brother Mark and I had always believed that our great grandfather had been a sheriff in North Dakota.

We never knew any details, though.  In fact, we never even knew his first name.

Well, not more than about two weeks ago, I came across a snippet of information that was supposedly derived from page 228 of a book titled Langdon, ND Centennial Edition 1888-1988:
George Barcelo went fra [sic] Montreal to Winnipeg where in April 1879 he married Sarah Ann Bird, who was closely related to members of the Hudson Bay Company's board of directors.

Bird's Hill Park and several streets in Winnipeg were named for members of her family. In 1884 they moved to Olga, ND where their friendship with the Dorval family began.

In 1888 they came to Langdon where George became part of the courthouse staff. he was also a customs officer for the port of Elkwood, ND. Sarah died in 1905 and George then married Ermine Deschamp of Montreal, where he had family ties. He died in 1916 shortly after Ermine's death. George and Sarah had 18 children, seven of whom died young. None of the others remained in the area.    
So Sarah Ann Bird was our great grandmother ─ I never knew that.

And as I pointed out to Mark, if she was from the Winnipeg area back then, what are the odds that she would not have been Métis?

It doesn't seem that George was ever actually a sheriff, though.

I find it intriguing that my grandfather had 17 siblings, even if seven of them did die young!

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I want to post a photo from an album belonging to my younger brother Mark.  I had to scan the photo from the album into which it is glued.

The description beneath the image is from the Google album where I have the scan filed:

This photo is likely from 1974, and was taken at the Surrey home my younger brother Mark rented with his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther and her two young daughters.

It is so long ago now, but I think the house may have been located along 144th Street, above 108th Avenue.

I remember that the rather deep ravine of a creek was at the rear of the backyard; and the only creek I can see on any Google map is Bon Accord Creek.

There was some form of party happening, and I know that a role-playing game appeared to be a feature.

In this photo, Mark's friend of the time ─ Al Cotts ─ is holding a huge Texas mickey.  Whether or not he is actually taking a drink is something I cannot tell you.
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Just recently I posted a little on this very topic, but I want to do so again ─ I have a somewhat trepid interest in it.

The topic concerns a Finnish study that was apparently published on July 27:  Association of Endodontic Lesions with Coronary Artery Disease (doi: 10.1177/0022034516660509).

That link is to the abstract ─ the general public has to pay a fee to access the full article (although I accessed it as an eight-page .plf document after a search at Sci-Hub.ac).

I have three reports on that study, but I will list this one first because I am somewhat uncertain about a statement early into it:


It states this:
According to the researchers, infections of the root tip of a tooth are very common—about one in four Finns suffered from at least one in the study group—and are often unnoticed by patients, as they can be present without obvious symptoms.
And then the very next paragraph carries this statistic:
Although there is a great deal of research on the connection between oral infections and many common chronic diseases, such as heart disease and diabetes, periapical periodontitis has been investigated relatively little in this context. In the recent study, 58 per cent of the patients, who presented with symptoms requiring examination via coronary angiogram, had one or more such inflammatory lesions.
One in four Finns "in the study group" suffering at least one dental root tip infection is not 58%.

Or did the first quote involve an entirely unrelated group of Finns than those 508 patients with various heart problems that the second quote speaks of?

If the first quote is saying that 25% of a random population of Finns who were studied were revealed to have dental root tip infections, then that claim likely extends to humanity worldwide.

As is said, these infections are often unnoticed by the person with the hidden infection, as there are no obvious symptoms.

Thus, it's not impossible that 25% of those of us reading this have such a dental root tip infection.

And if 58% of any population of people who actually have heart problems are suffering known or unknown dental root tip infections, then that is a most telling statistic ─ these infections are most likely behind the cardiac ailments.

That's troubling.

Here are the other two reports on the study:



Root canals are presented as the means of being rid of the dental root tip infection (periapical periodontitis).

But there is plenty of science indicating that root canals in themselves can lead to similar infection:


I'm not interested in visiting a mainstream dentist ─ it's only going to be a reputable holistic dentist for me!

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It is time now for me to close out with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the room in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
WEDNESDAY, August 20, 1975

I arose at 9:15 a.m. with a silly dream.  I was sitting with 2 guys to my left who seemed both different versions of Al Cotts, while some girl was before me.  Apparently Mary was being persuaded by some guy to go to a movie on his motorbike (though it appeared to be wintry); the girl ahead of me was her good friend.  She got Mary to come over and tried to convince her the guy was married and just starting his 20s; I tried and so did the first Al (Mary belonged to the silent second Al), but Mary became furious, insulted us on our juvenility compared to this new guy, and stalked off.

I was so hungry after getting up that I had a Harvest Crunch breakfast before doing anything so as to be rid of intense stomach pains which nearly had me doubled over.

Clouds seem to rule the day again.

I am going to again try and leave a note with Bill's car informing him Saturday I plan to eat at home and not out; then I'll mail Jean's letter and head for dad's as I said I would.

I walked in a rain so fine I could barely see it, nor did I get damp.

At 5th St & 8th Ave. I saw and waved at Judy & Glen as they drove by.

Dad & Marie were sober but something ill.  

Dad finally bought a case of beer, of which I had 3.

I ate heavily.

Dad saw Helen on Tuesday, I think it was, and she gave him a catalog of movie star shots that came to her address for me.

Coming home, I stopped at the library and borrowed Survival by Don R. Arthur.

I was really sleepy and tired all evening, but livened up after my shower; still, bedtime at 11:40 p.m.
How coincidental that I posted a photo of Al Cotts earlier!  I had no idea that my journal entry would be mentioning him.

I wonder if the Mary in the dream was she of 'Bob & Mary' ─ a couple who were friends of my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther?

If so, this was her ─ a photo taken at the same party that the photo of Al Cotts was taken at:


That Quaker Harvest Crunch cereal would have most definitely gotten rid of those starvation gas cramps.

My old friend William Alan Gill and I had been regularly going to a smorgasbord on the weekends, and I was always heavily overeating ─ often three heaped plate-loads of food.

So I was intending to cut back on attendance.  I just could not control myself once confronted by all the food!

The letter I was to mail was to an American pen-pal, Jean Michelle Martin (née Black).

I had just visited my father Hector and his girlfriend Maria Fadden the evening before, and now I was off to see them again.

This was no light undertaking ─ they were renting an apartment at 5870 Sunset Street in Burnaby, and I generally hiked to there and then back to my room afterwards.     

Google Street View claims that this is the apartment building:


I cannot certainly recall the place, so I suspect that my father and Maria were not there for too long ─ August might have been their second month there, if not just their first.

Anyway, early into that hike ─ it was at Fifth Street & Eighth Avenue ─ I saw Judy, the eldest daughter of Esther St. Jean, the dear woman who generally drove the pick-up truck I served as a swamper on when I put in my one day of work per week at a New Westminster charitable organization. 

I cannot recall now if Judy had yet married, but I expect that "Glen" was her husband or fiancé.

It was always a treat to find my father and Maria sober whenever I visited.

Helen Smith was one of his sisters.  She lived in Edmonton ─ she must have been down to Vancouver to visit two other sisters who lived in Vancouver.

That surprised me that Helen had a piece of mail for me.  I must have used her home as my mailing address when I last spent six months or so visiting my father back when he lived in Edmonton very late in the 1960s and maybe even into the start of the 1970s.

I remember nothing of that library book that I borrowed upon my return hike, but its full title was apparently Survival:  Man and his Environment.

I sure do wish that I had the quality of vision that I had back then.

Heck, I wish that I had practically my entire body from back then!