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Monday, January 23, 2017

Four Natural Cancer Fighters │ Towel and Sheet Laundry Etiquette │ Indigestion Medication and Severe Gastrointestinal Infections

Recollection fails me where last night's bedtime is concerned, but it was definitely before midnight; I just cannot say if it was before 11:30 p.m. Maybe.

I expected to sleep better than I did. Getting to sleep is not the problem ─ remaining there is. Possibly I can blame a too-meagre supper: two boiled eggs, a wedge of old cheddar cheese, and a number of nutritional supplements.

Perhaps my system needs to be weighed down with more than that.

Whatever the case, it was 7:01 a.m. when I rather restlessly checked the time and decided to get up. My youngest step-son Poté was already up ─ once again, his overnighted girlfriend must have had to leave early for work.

I got busy finalizing a new post at my Amatsu Okiya website, and I managed to get the post published just after mid-morning: Geisha Scans Übel Blatt II. But I was not feeling properly rested; otherwise I would have undertaken work at another of my six hosted websites.

With no desire to weather the day feeling as I did, I returned to bed and probably spent at least 80 minutes there, with considerable dreaming. It was difficult forcing myself to get up ─ lying there in bed felt unusually sensuous. That feat actually took several minutes.

Not too long thereafter, I decided to go out to the backyard shed and engage in some exercise there. It was rather chilly ─ the day was sunny, but we had some frost overnight, and the backyard was still in shadow.

Once finished, I came back into the house to discover that Poté had gone ─ probably to work. This was a very good thing, for otherwise I never would have gotten involved in some cleaning-up after the supposed rat we reportedly have dwelling in the house.

Poté had told me Sunday morning that he had finally seen the invader Saturday night, and it was roughly the size of the mousetraps we've been fruitlessly using to try and catch what we thought was probably a mouse.

My younger brother Mark's bedroom door was closed this morning after he had gone to work for the day ─ he normally never closes it unless he is within sleeping.

I had occasion to go into the room during the noon-hour, and saw why he likely closed it ─ the description beneath the photo is from the Google album where I filed the image:

I took this photo on January 23, 2017. This bald-spot in the carpet appeared overnight.

It is midway in the doorway of my younger brother Mark's bedroom. The lighter carpet is within his bedroom, while the darker carpeting is along the upstairs hallway where our bedrooms are.

It would appear that something tried desperately to either exit the bedroom, or else to enter it.

Or else the rodent was simply vandalizing.

We have known since Boxing Day that at least one vermin has taken up residence, but it has no interest in our many mousetraps, nor have those glue pads had any success.

My youngest step-son Poté said that he and his older brother Tho saw it Saturday night ─ and according to them, it is a rat.

We do not wish to poison it and have it hole up in a wall or someplace like that to die, while its decaying corpse fouls the atmosphere for...months?

What I am trying as of today is repelling it by setting up small containers of ammonia in key areas where the creature has had the most activity. I have been using those small fast-food condiment containers that salad dressings and so forth come in. Three squares of toilet paper folded up four times insert nicely into them; and then I just pour in a quantity of the ammonia.
Undoubtedly, Mark will have much to say when he comes home this evening.
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Anyone concerned about keeping cancer at bay might appreciate the following article from Dr. Marc S. Micozzi:

DrMicozzi.com

I cannot afford to add the herbs to my supplemental regimen ─ my pension is inadequate as it is. But I do take 4,000 I.U.s of vitamin D daily. I just can't bring myself to increase my intake to 10,000 I.U.s, but I certainly would if I became ill for any reason.

I sure wish that finances were not the concern for me that they are.

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The following came to me this past Friday from NewMarketHealth.com:
No matter how frequently you toss a load of clothes into the wash, there's one item that just might not get included as often as it should.

I'm talking about that bath towel you reach for after showering.

Experts are saying that if you use the same, unlaundered towel every day for a week or more, you might be actually making yourself dirtier than you were before you stepped into the shower.

Sure, that sounds crazy. After all, we're clean when we use it, right?

But the problem is that damp towels are the perfect places for germs to breed. Not only do they offer all the conditions microbes need to survive and thrive, like moisture, warmth and a neutral pH, but food for them as well – the secretions, dead skin cells and the like that come off your body.

Also, the bathroom is an ideal environment for microorganisms to flourish. One way is from droplets that can spread from the toilet. And if the towel is hanging where other family members or guests might use it to dry their hands, it only adds to the bacterial buffet.

The expert consensus is that a bath towel should be used no more than three times at the most before laundering. And that's assuming that it dries completely after every use.

As for hand towels, however, since they're used more often, they should probably be changed every day or two.
I come nowhere near to this recommendation, but apparently the advice has been around for a few years ─ check these articles out:

HuffingtonPost.com

BusinessInsider.com

Esquire.com

I don't bother drying my hands on any of our hand-towels ─ that stopped as soon as my two step-sons arrived here from Thailand in September 2008. But I am egregiously guilty of not frequently washing my bath-towel or sheets as often as recommended.

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Do you take any medications for indigestion or heartburn? If you do, then you are running the risk of allowing dangerous bacteria to get past your stomach's natural acid protection, with sometimes deadly consequences once those organisms start breeding in your gut.

Here are a couple of reports on a latest published study:

ScienceDaily.com

JacksDailyDose.com

Indigestion was a bad recurring problem for me in my young adulthood, but it faded away when I gave up gluttony.

The final statement of the study is important:
Whilst acid suppression therapy is often considered relatively free from adverse effects this present study suggests that there are significant adverse gastrointestinal non-infective and infective consequences of their use. 
Stay clear of commercial medications, and research alternative options. And don't eat more than your stomach can handle.

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Our $1,600 monthly mortgage is supposed to be debited from our chequing account on the 21st of each month, but it never happens any earlier than the 22nd. Yet here it is the 23rd, and it still has not happened.

My wife Jack and I had to borrow $300 from her oldest son Tho in order to have enough cash in the account ─ this was done last Thursday, I believe.

There is less than $1,639 in the account, and I keep dreading that some small scheduled debit I have lost track of is going to strike first and leave the account with insufficient funds.

Meantime, I have no money to do any shopping. My monthly pension might show up this week, but it might also not arrive until early next week.

So I sit here all bloody day in utter impotence, fretting about the status of the account, and in need of some food supplies ─ my brother Mark and my step-sons have their own incomes and are able to see to their own needs.

The meal I had earlier today ─ I only eat twice a day ─ was comprised of some strips of chicken, cooked white jasmine rice, turmeric, a clove of garlic, some ginger root, and two hot red chili peppers. I had put it all into a pot and brought it almost to a boil.

I ate it with some nutritional supplements.

In all likelihood, my supper will be similar. 

Perhaps my wife Jack will show up from Vancouver late this evening, bringing home some supplies.

And of course, there was nothing in my AdSense account for today when I checked just prior to starting this post. It was three days ago that it last earned anything ─ 1¢.

My life is a sick, cruel joke.

I finish now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the small space in a house located on Ninth Street, and one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

I worked just one day a week ─ usually Friday ─ at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society. I was a swamper on their blue pick-up truck.

In those years, S.A.N.E. was housed in a building that now does not exist, but it was located on Carnarvon Street, roughly where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station opens up onto Carnarvon Street today.
FRIDAY, January 23, 1976

I got up about 5:30 a.m.

For breakfast I filled up on 32 ozs of cottage cheese with some bread, but the feeling didn't last long.

Since 8:00 a.m. I noticed myself evidencing need of further sleep.

I mailed Ron's letter on my way to S.A.N.E. 

Esther had a meeting, so Joe drove the first part of the day, spending much of it in Vancouver after picking up Dwayne for our help.

There was quite a lot of sun today.

I blew $2 for lunch in Van at the Knossos Restaurant.

When we returned in the afternoon, Esther took over.

I had a full day. 

I got a ride to 9th St & 3rd Ave, arriving home close to 5:30 p.m.

I ate of my homemade granola, not noticing any bitterness this time; I've one helping left of this first recipe.

I finished reading Phoenix in Obsidian.

I know I'll sleep well tonight. Bed at 9:00 p.m.
The letter I mailed was to American pen-pal Ron Bain.

Esther St. Jean ─ a great lady in her early 40s ─ usually drove the truck. I am no longer certain, but I think that "Joe" may have been an enormous young Indigenous Canadian.  And perhaps "Dwayne" was Dwayne Johnston or Johnson.

I have no memory whatsoever of a place called "the Knossos Restaurant."

I was given a ride practically to my door after work. And then I just spent the remainder of the day entirely alone, speaking to no one.

Sometimes I feel like I have been alone most of my life....
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