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Tuesday, August 9, 2016

How NOT to Solicit My Siignature to a Petition │ Hidden Dental Root Tip Infections

Despite the Pattullo Bridge 'rehabilitation' closure last night, my wife Jack made the trip home to Surrey from Vancouver to drop off some dishes that she had earlier prepared at Mango Thai Restaurant.

My younger brother Mark had already gone upstairs to his bedroom for the night, and Jack's eldest son Tho had earlier retired.  Her youngest son Pote was away with his girlfriend and visiting his friend Julian.

Basically, all Jack did was come home to leave the food ─ she was very soon to leave to make the long drive back to Vancouver.  I doubt that she was home for as many as 10 minutes, and possibly for as few as five minutes.

And I was in bed well before midnight.

I had done a little leveling with Jack concerning how often Pote's girlfriend is here ─ she's slept overnight for all of the past 10 days or so.

But even more irksome to me is that she got him to switch to sharing her days off work ─ Tuesday and Wednesday.  So he goes to work Monday morning, and comes back here with her ─ and she remains here until she has to leave for work early Thursday morning.

This nonsense has been going on for a number of weeks now.

I also told Jack that I have been getting no financial help with the monthly mortgage payment of $1,600 ─ and following an RRSP redemption in June that I made of $2,500 (which netted me $2,250 after income taxing), I now only have about $500 remaining.

I cannot continue with this ─ I will go broke.

My monthly retirement pension simply cannot cover everything.

I pointed out that Pote had begun contributing money towards the mortgage back in the Spring, but he soon stopped.

Jack acknowledged this, and said that he has told her that he just doesn't have enough money to keep helping out. 

No ─ of course not.  He has a girlfriend he has to keep entertained, doesn't he?

Brothers Tho and Pote contribute nothing, and freeload while I am steadily forced to drain my ever-shrinking RRSP account to keep the selfish pricks sheltered.

And apparently the sheltering is extending to Pote's employed girlfriend, too.

Everyone's salaries are just for their own delight ─ and it becomes expensive trying to constantly have a great time, eating out, and doing whatever else they do to blow their incomes.

Naturally they cannot afford to contribute to the mortgage ─ the precious things.

It is no wonder I so often contemplate putting a finish to my miserable life.  I'm trapped into this.  I can't move away ─ the mortgage has seen to that.

My debtor's prison.

Nevertheless, I got to sleep in normal fashion.

I was restless enough to rise ahead of 7:00 a.m. this morning, though; but I waited until that hour had been reached before actually getting up.

We've an overcast day that is marked with occasional showers ─ the very fine mist-like rain. 

And the hound beyond the backyard fence has done its best to be noisily intrusive and aggravating throughout the day, adding to my grief over being unable to leave here and move far away.

I wanted to complete and publish the new post I have been working on since Saturday at my Siam-Longings website, but it was far more work than I anticipated. 

It was after 12:50 p.m. before I finally got it online:  Thailand Attractions.


This can become frustrating ─ all the hours that I put into the creation of just one post, yet it profits me nothing.  After at least six years of being online, there is no second income to supplement my pension.

Just before commencing this Blogger post, I made my usual check of my AdSense account balance. 

I earned nothing yesterday, and thus far today I have achieved an equal sum to my account's balance. 

Hours and hours of work...for nothing.

It becomes very difficult to continue forging onward ─ there are just far too many discouragements in this unpalatable life I find myself  having to endure.

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I received an E-mail today asking for my signature to a petition at Change.org as part of an effort to Ban Cruel Chicken Cages in Canada

Heck, I'm all for that!

So I filled in my details ─ even though I had to use a magnifying glass to figure out what each of the fields was for, due to how faded-out the field descriptions are.  

I even added my own angry comments.

And then I clicked the orange 'Sign' button. 

Well, guess what?

My signature and comments would not be accepted unless I first 'shared' the petition to social media ─ in this case, I think it was just Facebook.

Well, I don't do that.  

As I am doing now, I would happily have advertised the petition here in my blog, but I do not use Facebook for stunts like this ─ no matter how supposedly noble.

Sorry, Krista Hiddema ─ managing director for Mercy for Animals in Canada.  If you are not interested in obtaining my signature without forcing me to flog your petition to everyone I know on Facebook, then I just will not sign.

To me, that's an unnecessary damned cheap tactic.

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I last visited a dentist in 1974, if you can believe it.

And no, I don't have perfect teeth, although I do have all 32 of my teeth at the age of 66.

Like with many other medical or health-related concerns that I have, I have never felt like visiting a traditional or mainstream professional.  For a dentist, I would want one well-practiced in holistic dentistry.

Unfortunately, I suspect that their methods are more expensive, and some might not even be covered under a dental care plan.

And I don't even know if there is such a dentist near to where I live ─ I don't drive, after all.  I'm not one who can abide busing around, and I sure can't afford a taxi.

So I've been waiting until I became financially well-off and could not only afford specialized attention, but I would also have the sort of quality of life that would make me want to do the best for myself.
 
You know ─ life would truly be worth the living!

As it is, I just figure that I'll still probably have all of my teeth the day that I die; and that day is not necessarily some decades off.

I cannot possibly live the life I have for "some decades."  If nothing's going to change for the better, then I want it over with long before.

Anyway, you have no doubt read or heard that poor dental health can result in various serious ailments such as heart disease, diabetes, and even pneumonia.

But what may surprise you is that many of us who have no dental problems that we are aware of may regardless have symptomless dental root tip infections that are helping such coronary diseases to develop.
Dental root tip infection is an immune response to infection of dental pulp, the most common cause of which are cavities. The infections are often symptomless and detected by chance in X-rays, researchers say.
That quote is from this article:


That article says that "root canal can clear the infections," but there are dental professionals who believe that root canals should be avoided.

Check out this March 31, 2015, article for information about that:


But I don't want to get drawn into posting overmuch of a health-related nature ─ I've been getting carried away with that for too long in past posts, and I'm trying to get away from the practice.

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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.

I was renting it in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
SATURDAY, August 9, 1975

I arose at 8:00 a.m., having slept well; Cathy was in my dreams.

As yesterday, the morning is cloudy.

I was undecided on what to do, but the sun appeared, and though the official forecasts are not heartening, I am going to the lake and sun.

I nearly got to the end of 2nd St. before turning back with the conviction clouds were going to take over.

At the light at 2nd St & 8th Ave. I recognized Bill's car; as I crossed, he honked, and I gestured he pull up alongside of me.

This he did, running the red light he'd been waiting at.

He said David left a note at my place.

We visited his mother, then hit the smorgasbord; I first bought a jug of Beau Sejour Rich White wine (total of $5.09).

After eating, Bill bought a 3 pt carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream, which we ate at my place.

I feel so miserable, especially considering my calorie intake.

Bill left to sleep.  I napped as well, dreaming.

I watched the final Western draw at 8:00 p.m.; nothing.  According to the news, I lost out on the Orpheum draw too.

I exercised in the dark here, to avoid luring David; and after 10:00 p.m. I went to the track.

A short guy, stocky in build, was there, succeeding me for a few laps; I passed him.  But I performed poorly, lacking the suppleness of body and springy step that a non-overloaded digestive system allows.

Bed:  11:45 p.m.
"Cathy" in my dreams was my younger brother Mark's lovely girlfriend of the time, Catherine Jeanette Gunther.  I quite loved the dear young woman.

My sunning plans were going to involve going to Burnaby Lake ─ I was too backward to strip down in a local park to do my sunning.  

I don't know if Second Street ended just where it does today; but if so, then I had just about reached Robert Burnaby Park or Nineteenth Avenue before giving up on the venture.  

I returned along Second Street, and it was at Eighth Avenue that I espied my old friend William Alan Gill sitting in his Vega at a traffic light.  

Bill was always so darned eager to please that he must have thought that I was directing him to immediately proceed to where I was awaiting him, and thus he revved up and ran the red light he was stopped at.

Bill and I often attended a smorgasbord that used to be located in a shopping plaza at Eighth Avenue & McBride Boulevard.  Apparently he had already tried to visit me at my room, and saw the note from my old friend Philip David Prince who had also come by during my absence.  

David did not live too far from me, so it was not as if he was inconvenienced.  His address was 115 Tenth Street ─ so not quite three blocks?

I had very little money back then, so anytime I was confronted with the amount of food a smorgasbord offered, I ate myself into incapacity.  And it sure didn't help that Bill and I took a three-pint carton of ice-cream back to my room to eat in its entirety.

Once he left, of course I would have needed to sleep off that heavy feeding.

Then I checked up on a couple of lotteries I was involved in ─ the Western Lottery (might that have been the Western Express Lottery?), and a lottery or sweepstakes relating to the Orpheum Theatre

I had such belief that one day I was going to win big and all of my woes would finally come to an end, and I could make something of my life.

It was never to happen.

Next up was a session of unexplained exercising that I did in the dark just in case David came by again ─ I had other plans than to be tied up with his company.  Dear David was someone I had to have lots of time for ─ otherwise, he was very difficult to get extricated from.

And of course, it was worse if he visited me ─ there was practically no getting rid of him.  Far preferable was that I visit him.

Finally, at some point after 10:00 p.m., I hiked on up to the school track at New Westminster Secondary to do some running.

The other track-user was there already running.  I set off with him behind me, yet I was to pass him before I finished up and went home.

I very much miss being able-bodied and active.  Now, I am tied to this computer in a last-ditch desperate bid to break into a second income before it is too late.

It probably is, though.
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