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Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Nagging Shoulder Pain Might Be Signaling Heart Disease │ Silent Heart Attacks More Common Than Thought │ Over 50% of Patients in ICUs Are There Needlessly

I believe I was to bed just after 11:30 p.m. last night.

It's odd how easily I forget precisely when I get to bed...or even when I rise in the morning.  I always check with the intention of remembering.

I can somewhat understand forgetting a bedtime; but how can I forget what time it was when I rose for the day when it was only several hours earlier?

My youngest step-son Poté and his girlfriend were in bed when I went downstairs to prepare my morning's hot beverage.  All I could hope was that one or both of them would have to start work later in the day, and thus I would yet find myself home alone.

I got to work beginning to set up a new post at one of my six hosted websites, but I was not to entirely finish that set-up ─ I wanted to get away and try and hike to the government liquor store about two miles away at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard here in Whalley.

But before I was able to stop that work and get ready for my foray, someone came upstairs and occupied the bathroom ─ it was my eldest step-son Tho.  He had apparently not gone to work this morning.

He was to take off for somewhere late in the morning, but I have no idea if he was going to salvage some of his workday, or if he was just taking off to perhaps hook up with his girlfriend.

I may have disturbed his sleep earlier ─ his bed is directly below the small bedroom I use as a computer room.  I had been shaking up the bed and other clutter in this room because our newly-resident mouse was making lots of scratching and gnawing noises ─ the third consecutive day I have heard it in this room.

It is a heavily cluttered room, for there are boxes and lots of loose items piled all over, under, and around the bed.  But it's apparent that I am going to have to try and neaten things up, and thereby afford the rodent less hiding opportunities.

The little bugger is trying to chew up quite a lot of things in the house.  We've yet to get any traps, but I detest the notion that it is undoubtedly crapping and pissing here in the house in places as yet undiscovered.

Poté and his girlfriend had gotten up when Tho left ─ probably because Tho  had addressed his younger brother about something.

I think I managed to slip away unnoticed while the young couple were farting around in the kitchen, dirtying dishes and making their usual mess.  It was 12:21 p.m.

I was unsure if I would be going the entire distance, but I wanted to at least get to Surrey Place (Central City) to mail a Rogers Wireless bill payment due on the 18th.

I dared wait no longer to get the payment in the mail ─ Rogers loves to sit on cheque payments that come in too close to the due date, processing them afterwards so that they can charge late fees.

It is a crooked manoeuvre that I despise, and is partly done to dissuade such payments ─ they want to be able to debit directly from peoples' bank accounts.

I had to get the payment away today at Pearl Photo / Canada Post, so the shopping mall was an essential goal.  The liquor store could wait if I found the icy conditions too formidable this brilliantly sunny, cold day.

As it happened, I was up to the full challenge.  I did it all, and gingerly carried home the two dozen cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer that I had bought.

I arrived back at our front door at 2:05 p.m.  Both Poté and his girlfriend were still here.

She was finally to leave on her own towards 4:20 p.m.

But enough of cold weather, and of irritant presences of one sort or another in this home.

I want to post a few more photos from my wife Jack's visit to the Ayutthaya ruins in Thailand.  She had gone back to visit her mother and family this past Fall ─ it  had been over 3½ years.

Her mother lives in Nong Soong, which is a very large village roughly a 15-minute or so drive from Udon Thani.

Very early into her visit, they had been able to take advantage of free train passage to Bangkok, and so they all decided to pay a visit to the Ayutthaya ruins ─ Jack had never been there before.

I have been trying to identify which section of those ruins that Jack's photos have covered, but how would I really know?  I have never been there, and so I may have been wrong.

Even so, I am venturing that these next ones are from the Wat Thammikarat area ─ it was the Khmer lion sculptures that helped in my research:








I can but speculate that these two Naga sculptures were in the same area:



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Do you or anyone you care about suffer from ongoing or recurring shoulder pain ─ perhaps a nagging sort that never quite eases up?

The following was released on Boxing Day 2016:
After all the lifting, hauling and wrapping, worn out gift givers may blame the season’s physical strain for any shoulder soreness they are feeling. It turns out there could be another reason. A new study led by investigators at the University of Utah School of Medicine finds that individuals with symptoms that put them at increased risk for heart disease could be more likely to have shoulder problems, including joint pain and rotator cuff injury.
And not only that:
Previous research found that people who had an increased risk for heart disease also had a tendency toward carpal tunnel syndrome, Achilles tendinitis, and tennis elbow, all musculoskeletal disorders.
These two December 27 reports speak of this shoulder pain research:

ScienceDaily.com

DeseretNews.com

So even though a person may be justified in attributing nagging shoulder pain to the stress from hard physical work of one sort or another ─ even exercise; the truth may be that the shoulder of the person in question was especially vulnerable to the physical stress of that hard work because of an underlying condition that might well be signaling heart disease.

Is there no end to the symptoms that we need to keep in mind for when we next see a physician for a check-up?

Remember, a physician may not realize this link to heart disease, and thus is not looking for any.  But where does being proactive as a patient end, and hypochondria begin?

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Now continuing with this theme of not trying to be a hypochondriac, another study has uncovered that folks who have a high tolerance to pain are more likely to have had a so-called 'silent' heart attack than other folks who are more sensitive to pain.

These latter individuals will have sought attention for their discomfort, while the stouter individuals simply did not realize that they were undergoing anything serious.

Here are some reports on the important study:

MedicalXpress.com

Consumer.HealthDay.com

JacksDailyDose.com

According to Wikipedia (in reference to a study published in March 2011), estimates of these silent heart attacks or myocardial infarctions range from 22% to 64% of the population.

A November 8, 2015, article at StatNews.com went so far as to proclaim that "Nearly 80 percent of heart attacks in US are never diagnosed."

So where does it end?  How much are we supposed to be concerned about every ache and pain that besets us?

Keep in mind that it isn't that the folks with high pain tolerance are deliberately ignoring or toughening out their heart attack symptoms.  Rather, persons who experience unrecognized heart attacks have reduced pain sensitivity compared with persons who experience recognized heart attacks.

In other words, it honestly did not affect them to the same degree that it did the more pain-sensitive persons.

Now, what do we do with that knowledge?  I'm sure at a loss.  I am unlikely to be starting to run for a doctor every time I get an ache or pain somewhere in my body.

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And now we have yet another study that claims that over 50% of the patients in ICUs (intensive care units) are there needlessly.

The study seemed based upon just one such unit, but the results were extrapolated to mean that others were likely just as at fault.

Here are a couple of reports about it:

MedicalXpress,com

DailyBreeze.com

Jack Harrison gets especially excited over this study's conclusion, but I do see his point:

JacksDailyDose.com

We are supposed to be on the alert for sore shoulders, carpal tunnel syndrome, Achilles tendinitis, and tennis elbow, and in fact all musculoskeletal disorders ─ because they might be indicating heart disease.

And in addition, those and other pains in all other areas of our bodies might be signs of a silent heart attack.

Yet more than half of the ICU population has no business being in such a unit.

There seems no rhyme nor reason to any of it.

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Here to close out today's post is 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 fairly small space in a house situated on Ninth Street, and maybe a house or two up from Third Avenue.

My old friend William Alan Gill ─ who lived in a bachelor suite about four or so blocks from my room ─ had talked me into making a trip into the States this day to buy cheap turkey.  We we going to pick up my mother Irene Dorosh and take her along, too.

She had been told to expect us around 11:00 a.m.

I had gotten to bed the evening prior to this journal entry at 9:45 p.m.
SUNDAY, January 11, 1976

I debated for 10 minutes from about 3:30 a.m. before getting up.

That embarrassingly located hardened blood vessel has about disappeared.

I finished all my exercises and was into the shower before 8:00 a.m.

I walked over to Bill's, and we got to mom's before 11:00 a.m.  She was ready.

Bill had her drive.  

And off we went to Mount Vernon.  

It was okay, though we spent a lot of time there in the mall.

There is no doubt that the States are the place to live where meat prices are concerned.  

Bill bought a turkey of 20 lbs and some 3 or so ozs for $13 and some odd ¢s.  I will pay him $3 when I get my S.A.N.E. cheque.

All I bought were 100 capsules of Schiff E-Complex-400 priced at $9.70; for free a bottle of 50 extra caps came with it.

It was after 3:00 p.m. when we left, so I knew I wouldn't make Art's in time.

Bill shared his 2 qts of pineapple and, I believe, raspberry kefir with us.

It was dark and pouring when we made the border.  

All told, we may have had about $50 worth of stuff, but mom only mentioned $7, so we were waved across ─ into a heavy snowstorm which piled up in no time.

At mom's, she cooked us supper, which I much enjoyed.  We even tried some of her goat's milk yogurt which tasted just like sour cream.

Alex was home, and Sherry showed up later.  Everyone was made at Phyllis for not coming for her today as promised.

Mom gave me some hamburger Phyllis must have left, and a loaf of bread ─ whole-grain ─ which I'll use with it.

Then Bill & I went to Art's so I could excuse myself for not coming round at 4:00 p.m.

Everyone was up watching TV but him, who was abed.  But he came out.

Bill & I had about 3 shots of sherry.  We stayed 30 - 45 minutes at most.

When we left, the snow had about quit.

I was obliged to go with Bill to his mother's for a quick delivery; she never mentioned the supper date I missed. 

Then home.

I had a letter at mom's from TP Products; it was a cheque refund of $5.98 for some product (the binoculars?) I'd ordered which was no longer in stock.

Bill surprised me this morning.  He went to Foxy Lady Wednesday with Nell, Sandy, Maria, and Cathy (mom was unable to go), and won a $10 third prize among 3 guys for doing their "thing" on the stage in the undershorts!

Bed about 10:00 p.m.

Angie said dad a while ago never recognized her at the cafe; he'd been drinking.
Well, that was a full day!

The "embarrassingly located hardened blood vessel" that had almost disappeared was a cord-like hardening that ran the length of my penile shaft, right from the foreskin.

Bill never knew where he was when it came to driving, so it only made good sense to have someone else drive into the States.  I used to just take him out to Surrey and let him try to find our way back home.  Sometimes I had to intervene, though, for he was incredibly skilled at getting lost and I just did not have the time to waste riding all about. 

The S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) cheque I mentioned was for working a day a week ─ S.A.N.E. was a charitable organization now called Fraserside Community Services Society.

It was there that I had gotten to know Art Smith ─ who I had promised a couple days earlier that I would be by this day at 4:00 p.m. to watch the Thrilla in Manila boxing match that was being televised for the first time since it had been fought three months earlier. 

Art's wife Angie (Angelina) worked at the Pacific Café on Columbia Street in New Westminster.  I'm unsure when it was that she had ever met my father Hector, however.  It doesn't surprise me at all that he would not have remembered her ─ particularly if he was drunk on both occasions.

Anyway, after my mother, Bill, and I got back to her home, her husband Alex was of course present.  Sherry was the young daughter of my older maternal half-sister Phyllis.  As I have previously noted in my journal, Sherry had been spending a heck of a lot of time at my mother's home.

I am sure Phyllis often had to work, but she also liked to get out and enjoy herself. 

I guess even my mother and Alex were feeling put out by the ongoing imposition.

Bill's mother Anne Gregory lived in Maillardville.  I had missed a turkey supper at her home because Art had gotten his hooks into me and had me shut up with him drinking beer in the Royal Towers Hotel beer parlour in New Westminster.

Bill had been unable to find me ─ he had even gone to Art's home.  

Art could get annoying.  He would become most overbearing when he wanted my company to drink with, and I was too soft to deny him.  So I generally just tried to avoid the man.

As for the Foxy Lady (I previously identified it as the Foxy Mermaid), my mother had told me that she was going there with her sister Nell Halverson, Nell's daughter-in-law Sandy, someone named Marie or Maria, and my younger brother Mark's girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther.

The place featured male strippers, but the gals were all supposed to be going on an amateur night. 

I entirely forgot that Bill ever got up and stripped down to his undershorts.  He was about five feet and 10 inches tall, but weighed well over 300 pounds!
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