.dropcap {float:left; color:#4791d2; font-size:75px; line-height:60px; padding-top:4px; padding-right:8px; padding-left:3px; font-family:Georgia}

Google+ Followers

Endless

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Adzenys: Another ADHD Medication to Ruin Lives │ Eat More Salt! │ More Great News About Curry's Turmeric

It was around 6:50 a.m. this morning that I decided to call it a night and get up for the day, although it did take me a couple of minutes to actually get up.

I wanted to go on the four-mile round-trip hike for a resupply of two dozen cans of beer at the government liquor store over at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard in Whalley.

First, though, I worked at the groundwork of a new post at my Lawless Spirit website.

I felt unusually insecure ─ it was nearly unnerving.  But I've always struggled with insecurity and self-confidence.  It's the main reason I deem myself such a suicide risk, despite having reached the age of 66.

Sometimes I really do wonder how this has happened ─ that I've gotten this far.

I used to hang on by telling myself that I had to outlive both of my parents, but my last parent ─ my mother Irene ─ died in mid-March 2006.

All that remains of my immediate family is my generally-annoying younger brother Mark.

Of course, I married in 2005; but my Thai wife Jack just may be the push that sends me off and into that abyss ─ her and her determination to put me as deep into debt as she possibly can.

She is supposed to come home today at some point from Vancouver and spend the night.  She said a couple of evenings ago that she wants to take her two sons to the Royal Thai Consulate-General in Vancouver on Thursday so that they can apply for Thai passports, even though they all have Canadian passports.

As to when she'll arrive home, possibly it will not be until after the restaurant she works at in Vancouver closes this evening.

The day was projected to be cloudy with rain showers later in the day, but it's been just about as sunny as it was yesterday ─ just some light haze.  And it is 1:45 p.m. as I type these words.

I knocked off work on the post to get ready for my foray while both of my step-sons were still in bed, and it was 9:50 a.m. when I set off.  My unease had dissipated.

It was an unremarkable excursion overall, and I took my time.  I wanted to benefit from exposure to the day, and also minimize the generation of body-heat within my denim jacket.

I did have an interesting brief encounter as I was approaching a food bank after I had left the liquor store and was heading back for home.

There were a few people about, and one shaven-headed guy coming my way and pulling a cart spoke out something to the effect of:  "Do you have a baby under a year old at home?"

Initially I thought he might be speaking to a woman nearby, but then when he repeated himself, I saw that he was addressing me.

Did he have something to give to me if I did have an infant, I wondered?

When I replied that I did not have a baby, he then explained that the food-bank was turning away people who had no such child ─ he was evidently of the belief that I was intending to get some food at the bank.

He further said that they had refused him, but he had managed to wheedle a little out of them and was bearing it away in his small cart.

He then wished me luck if I was going to go and make a try; I played along and looked resigned, and just continued on my way past the entrance.

By the time I arrived back home, it was 11:20 a.m. as I set down my baggage to fish out my house-key ─ the trip had taken exactly 1½ hours.

I always tend to decline badly after these ventures, for it is something of a trial walking the two miles home with a dozen cans of beer hanging from each hand in separate packs─ one also contained a mickey of white rum. 

So, rather than just uselessly vegetate when the crash took hold, I opted to go out onto the backyard sundeck and spend just over an hour sunning myself while wearing a pair of shorts.

I thought that I would likely find myself beset with the threat of falling into a doze, but that never happened ─ in fact, I never even felt close to drifting off.

I found that odd.

After coming back into the house and waiting for the water to boil so I could have my day's second hot beverage, I checked the mail.

The annual property taxes billing was there.  Due on July 4, we owe $2,168 ─ or something like that (I am going by faulty memory, for I don't have the billing at hand).

And I know that the annual home insurance billing will yet show up ─ it seems to me that the payment was due around June 14 last year.

Alas, no later than the 10th of this month I am going to have to apply for a withdrawal from my dwindling RRSP account if some financial miracle does not first intervene.

All I can say is that my wife Jack had better not try to tell me that she wants to take her two young-adult sons to Thailand entirely at our expense by using some of the remaining line-of-credit on the house mortgage ─ that bloody ain't happening!

╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞

I've a photo I would like now to post ─ the description after it is from the Google album where I have the photo stored.

Note that the photo is a scan of a picture still stuck into an old photo album: 

This photo was probably taken between 1973 - 1975.

That is my old friend William Alan Gill looming at the left border of the shot.

Seated on the couch are my younger brother Mark at the right, and myself in the red sleeveless sweater-vest.

If we go on the premise that this photo was taken in 1974, then I was 24 up until my 25th birthday in October.

Mark would have been 21 if it was before his July birthday, and 22 afterwards.

Dear Bill would have been 27 if he had not yet had his April birthday; and 28 if the photo was taken after that birthday.
╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞

It seems to me that there must be countless parents out there who do not deserve that distinction.

There have got to be safer ways of coping with ADHD than doping kids up with harmful pharmaceuticals:

It's chewable, fruit-flavored and OK'd for children as young as six.

And experts are calling it a recipe for disaster.

I'm talking about Adzenys, the latest attempt by Big Pharma to get young kids hooked on ADHD meds.

The company behind Adzenys is getting ready to roll it out to thousands of doctors across the country.

But before Adzenys shows up at your pediatrician's office, there are some serious risks that every parent and grandparent needs to know about.

And one of those risks includes sudden death.

"Back to School" used to mean new clothes, notebooks and other school supplies.

But this year, Neos Therapeutics hopes the occasion also means its newly-approved, fruity ADHD drug will be in the school bags of as many children as possible.

That's why Neos is now "ramping up" its sales force to get a head start on the new school year.

Maybe Neos could also promote Adzenys with a special logo pencil case with a compartment to hold the drugs.

And don't let that label saying it can be taken by kids at the ripe old age of six fool you.

As a condition of its approval, the FDA said the drugmaker must conduct a safety study for tots as young as four! And there's no doubt that Adzenys will be prescribed off label to toddlers right away.

It's the latest chapter in the sordid history of ADHD meds -- make them tasty and so easy to take kids won't know the difference between them and a jelly bean.

Last December I told you about Pfizer's recently-approved cherry-flavored ADHD med. And as with Adzenys, the FDA also ordered tests to be done on four-year-olds. You can't tell me that doesn't mean the agency isn't fully aware that these drugs are being given to kids who are still being potty trained.

And while Adzenys has just hit the market, we already know a lot about its kissing-cousin, the ADHD med Adderall.

Adderall has been linked with heart attacks, strokes and death. In fact, ten years ago the med was suspended for six months in Canada after the drugmaker released information on the sudden deaths of 14 children and six adults who were taking it.

So it should come as no surprise that the Adzenys label warns about "sudden death" -- and more. Things like blood pressure and heart rate increases, "psychotic or manic symptoms" in kids and adults with no prior history of any mental problems, and "long-term suppression of growth."

And that's just the short list.

And like Adderall XR, this new fruity drug is also an extended-release med that will give these children a constant supply of it all day long.

Let's face it: the kiddy prescriptions for ADHD drugs are out of control. At this rate, soon they'll be selling better than Playskool toys.

Not too long ago the CDC reported that over 10,000 two- and three-year-olds are regularly getting ADHD meds. At the same time a watchdog group called the Citizens Commission on Human Rights uncovered the fact that as many as 645,000 kids three and younger were being medicated for anxiety, depression or ADHD.

Even without counting the numbers of older kids, teens and adults taking them, the numbers are shocking. And with ADHD drug sales skyrocketing to the tune of over $12 billion a year, the last thing we need is a candy-flavored one.

Or, as one expert said, "What's next? Gummy Bears?"
Check out this 27-page .pdf document titled HIGHLIGHTS OF PRESCRIBING INFORMATION  that the FDA has released concerning ADZENYS XR-ODT.

How many parents are going to study that?  Just about all of them will leave that sort of thing to their physician and just dish out the amphetamine dope to their kid.

However, physicians ─ including psychiatrists ─ make a lot of money from prescriptions; and that's why only "some" are alarmed about the drug getting widely prescribed.

The others are delighted at the new income source.

Anyway, here are a couple of other reports about this ─ the first one clearly gives a lot of voice to the huge 'pro-' camp of psychiatrists:




╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞

Well, it seems that a new salt study review whose results indicated that people should be getting at least 3,000-mgs daily has roused considerable ire amongst the blinkered mainstream dietary-guideline authorities.

Picture it: I was sitting in a diner ready to tuck into a plate of eggs, and I uttered a four-letter word that caused the whole place to go silent.

No, it's not the one you're thinking of.

All I did was ask for the SALT!

OK, maybe the entire place didn't go totally silent... but based on how the gang at my table reacted, you'd think I had asked to shake some cyanide onto my eggs.

People are downright terrified of salt these days!

Well, my friend, if you've been living in fear of your own saltshaker... if you've had to endure years of bland food because of the great sodium scare... it's time to break out the grinder and get to work.

Salt isn't just safe. It's essential -- and new research shows how NOT getting it could hurt or even kill you!

If you've been following the food-hating, joy-sucking guidelines issued by the American Heart Association, you could be killing yourself right now.

They want you to get just 1,500 mg of salt per day. But the new study finds that if you fall below even DOUBLE that -- just 3,000 mg per day -- your risk of heart attack and stroke actually jump by 26 percent.

It's as if they're TRYING to kill you!

Those are the numbers for folks who don't have high blood pressure. If you DO have high blood pressure -- and, let's face it, at this point you probably do -- you might think you have to be extra careful watching your sodium levels.

NOPE!

Falling below 3,000 mg per day will cause your stroke and heart risk to climb even higher -- by 34 percent, according to the study published just last week in The Lancet.

If you have high blood pressure, you do have to watch out just a little bit. Incredibly high levels of sodium per day -- we're talking 6,000 mg or more -- can boost your risk by 23 percent.

But there's no way any sane person could get more than 6,000 mg of sodium per day on a diet of fresh, natural foods. The only way you can top those levels is if you eat processed junk -- but even so, that would be like eating SIX Big Mac's in one day!

You'd have to have a death wish to live on that garbage -- and in any case, all the chemicals and other ingredients in those foods will probably kill you long before the salt ever will.

So go ahead, break out the saltshaker and start to enjoy your food again... because it won't just add a little zing to your meals.

It could also save your life!

With a pinch of salt....
Here is that Lancet study review ─ its the summary, since the full study is not available to the general public without payment of a fee:  Associations of urinary sodium excretion with cardiovascular events in individuals with and without hypertension: a pooled analysis of data from four studies (doi: 10.1016/S0140-6736(16)30467-6).

However, if Sci-Hub.ac is still functioning correctly, you should be able to locate it as an 11-page .pdf document.

Anyway, here are some further reports about this study review or assessment:




╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞

I love curries ─ especially my wife Jack's Thai curries.  The spicier, the better!

Here is a report on the latest great news concerning turmeric:

I'll try any dish once, so I can tell you that I have had curry... once.

Once was enough. I had flames coming out my nose and smoke coming out my ears -- and while I hear you can get milder curries, I don't intend to find out.

But I absolutely DO intend to get the benefits of the main ingredient in curry. It's called turmeric, and it's the spice that gives the stuff its color... but thankfully not the heat.

It not only adds a little oomph to a plate of vegetables (and, let's face it, most veggies could use some oomph).

It could also add some oomph to your brain!

The latest research confirms curcumin, the main compound in turmeric, can help boost the aging mind, protect the memory, and ward off dementia.

Nearly 100 older folks were given either 1,500 mg of curcumin or a placebo every day for a year... but it didn't take a year to see a difference.

By the six-month mark, folks on the placebo were showing the declines of age (and then some) in cognitive tests.

Folks who got the real deal, on the other hand, had turbocharged brains. They ran circles around the placebo folks on tests of verbal skills and memory, according to the study published in the British Journal of Nutrition.

The researchers are calling for more research. Of course they are. And I bet they would just love a big, fat grant so they can make a career out of this.

I don't need to see more research to know this stuff works. We've seen it before, and other studies even show why: Curcumin zips through your skull like a Predator drone, seeking out and destroying the beta amyloid plaques that gum up the works, slow your brain, and ultimately set the stage for dementia.

And that's not all it can do.

A 2011 study found curcumin can fight off pain, improve function, and lead to less painkiller use in folks with osteoarthritis. And in 2013, a study found it can fight depression as effectively as Prozac... but without the risks.

If you've got a taste for curry, go ahead and eat the stuff as much as you want. Like I said, once was enough for me.

But you don't have to like curry to get the benefits of curcumin. It's widely available as a supplement -- both on its own and as part of a blend -- and will run you about nickel a day.

If it can stop your mind from turning into mush -- or in this case, curry soup -- I'd say it's worth every penny.

Putting some oomph in your noodle....
This is the study, but once again only the abstract is available for free to the general public:  Curcumin and cognition: a randomised, placebo-controlled, double-blind study of community-dwelling older adults (doi: 10.1017/S0007114516001203).

Notwithstanding, I did access the full article as an eight-page .pdf document at Sci-Hub.ac ─ when that website is functioning, it is a huge boon! 

And here are some other reports about the study:




So many articles about this study proclaim how a curry a week will work wonders ─ but how is that supposed to be so when the study involved daily intake of turmeric over a year?

One curry a week might have some marginal benefit, I suppose.  

But a daily curry would be awesome!

╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞╞

It fast clouded up after I finished sunning on the sundeck; and by about 3:30 p.m., I noticed that it had begun raining lightly!

To close today's post, 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:
SUNDAY, June 1, 1975

I paid the rent about 10:00 a.m. this morning; the girl seemed personable.

I got up a little before 7:00 a.m.

Anyway, after the rent, I walked to Burnaby Lake and got my first sunburn of the year.  Tomorrow is to be cloudy, possibly with evening showers.

I wonder today how dad and Marie are making out; it won't be wise to visit them tomorrow, for they might still be wild for drink.  Perhaps Wednesday.

I got home from the lake about 5:00 p.m.  It's now 7:00 p.m., and I fear I've gotten too much sun; I even feel, though very vaguely, nauseous; and I have chilliness with the burning.  I am foregoing a shower.

Towards 8:00 p.m. while I was much incapacitated and abed, barely able to move watching what I could bear of Cher, Art came knocking; seemed persistent as if he believed me home, but I was too badly injured to get up, nor in a mood to talk.

I'd hoped to see if The Waltons were a rerun, but just could bear no more.  I shut off the TV and tried to sleep.

I grew hotter and hotter, bundled up tightly, trying to keep the cool air from further chilling me.

I don't suppose I was in bed too long, my body and mind braced against my agony, when I began to feel nauseous.  I was forced to struggle up, and stumble, sweating, to the kitchen.

I felt hungry too and wondered if I should put some food into me, weakly reasoning this was causing my illness.

I could drink little water, and began to grow dizzy.  I dropped my cup in the sink, and had to fight to stay on my feet.  No doubt, shock from this worst burn of my life was besetting me.

I got to bed without falling down, but as I lay there nauseous again, my ears began roaring; this grew louder and louder till it filled my world, and I started twitching some, with my eyes trying to roll up into my head.

I was concerned.

I fought to the kitchen and grabbed a basin outside the door to the basement, and brought that and a cup of water to my bedside.  

I felt close to actually dying.

And I just lied there, frightened, till the sensation passed enough to bear.
Wow!  And I cannot say that I even remember this happening to me.

My landlady had left me a note directing that I should pay the rent to some young woman living upstairs ─ apparently this was the first time I actually met her.  I had always only been intensely annoyed by her because she used the basement laundry facilities too frequently for my liking ─ and often while I was trapped in the cubicle that was my toilet and shower. 

This cubicle was not in my room.

The washing machine would also usurp all of the water and leave no flow for the shower.

Yet I had to use a laundromat to wash my clothes.

My room had two doors ─ one to the outside; and the other to the rest of the basement.

If I needed to shower or use the toilet, then it was a simple matter to duck into the cubicle.  But it was quite another matter when that young woman or my landlady suddenly came into the basement and had me trapped in that darned booth. 

My concern for my father Hector and his girlfriend Maria Fadden arose from the amount of money they were spending.  I had helped them move the previous day ─ as had an older friend and co-worker of mine, Art Smith.

But this day, I wanted to go out to the Burnaby Lake area and take some Sun.  I was living on Ninth Street, just above Third Avenue, in New Westminster.  The hike out to Burnaby Lake was rather generous.

Due to some body acne, I was far too self-conscious to sun myself in public, despite being quite well-built ─ and thus that long walk.  I would first cut through Robert Burnaby Park, and then get to the other side of the freeway (Trans-Canada Highway).

If you refer to this Google map, you will see both features ─ I just can't quite recall now if I actually ran across the freeway; or if I used a creek culvert that went under the freeway.

Once I was on the other side of the freeway, I would just seek the cement foundation of a transmission tower for the power lines that were there.  Enough shrubbery was about to shield me from the public.

Unfortunately, due to what I had to go through to get to that site, I often overdid the sunning ─ I certainly did this day!

Art Smith must have called to me when he came knocking that evening, but I was far too gone for any company.  I was trying to watch Cher, but I had deteriorated too much for The Waltons.  

It sounds like I was not only into a state of shock from the sunburn to most of my body, but probably also experiencing heat stroke.  

Maybe I really could have died!

I sure don't need a June 1st like that one again.
Post a Comment