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Monday, May 22, 2017

Heart Disease Risk Factors Often Deliberately Ignored │ Juries Siding with Victims of Cancer-Causing Baby Powder │ Stevia Showing Promise in Fight Against Lyme Disease

I had 'Mr Hyde' for company last evening ─ the besotted version of my younger brother Mark. He twice passed out in his chair in the living room during the time I was watching television programming with him via our Android TV Box, and I finally left to go to bed, leaving him unconscious with a news programme that I had tuned in on regular T.V. for his company.

I was even entertained with one of his four- or five-minute sneezing fits during one of his descents into oblivion. When he is beset with one of these attacks ─ often engendered when he starts gurgling and choking while unconscious ─ he will bellow forth a devastatingly noisy roar of a sneeze every 10 to 15 seconds, each as violent as the other.

It is the most rude thing to have to weather this offensive nonsense while trying to follow a T.V. programme, but he will often not even open his eyes once during the entire lengthy bout of sneezing.

I cannot help but visualize the atmosphere of the entire living room progressively filling with moist droplets of spray projected from the depths of his lungs ─ it is exceedingly unpalatable to have to be subjected to this.

If I have any food present, I quickly spirit it upstairs to my bedroom and leave it upon my bed, pulling the door to.

But no, of course he doesn't have a drinking problem. Doesn't everyone pass out so regularly on any given evening that it's a toss-up as to whether or not it will happen?

How he is able to get up every workday at 4:20 a.m. and go to work without fail at his age of 64 certainly merits marvel and wonder.

At least today has been the Victoria Day public holiday, so he was able to sleep in after whenever it was that he finally roused himself and properly went to bed last night.

I got to bed at 11:22 p.m., if I am remembering right. I was half-expecting that my wife Jack might show up from Vancouver, so I may have been sufficiently uneasy that it contributed to my trouble getting asleep. I didn't keep track of the time, but it would not surprise me if it took me an hour to finally get there.

I never bothered rising during the night anytime I found myself awake, even though it felt like I was never sleeping in blocks any longer than an hour in duration.

Of course, the entire time I was wearing both earplugs and a blindfold.

Well, before it was yet 5:30 a.m. I fleetingly considered whether I should rise, but I opted not to. And it was 6:49 a.m. when next I checked the time and decided to call it a night.

Of my two stepsons, only youngest Poté slept here last night. I think he had to go to work, though, for he was to rise and head out the door at 8:37 a.m.

For myself, I finally finished and published the post I have worked on for what may well be 11 days at my Lawless Spirit website: Three Rivers Holistic Vet II. I think that it was about 11:00 a.m. by the time I had gotten it published.

Mark had risen while I was deeply engaged with that post, but before I was done, he had returned to his room for a nap after he watched a little T.V.

It looked like I might manage to get in some exercise in the backyard tool shed before the day became excessively warm, but that was not to be. Mark was soon enough back up, and then he got busy doing work on his van, trotting back and forth to the backyard shed.

If he takes off for the afternoon before too long (it is 12:22 p.m. as I type this), I will have that workout, for no one else is yet home. And then I would like to just sit out in the sunshine and enjoy it for 40 minutes while the opportunity is there. It is always quite possible that my wife Jack will turn up this afternoon.

One of the shows I watched last evening was a recent episode of Chicago P.D. featuring a guest actress who was strongly familiar to me, but I just could not identify why. She portrayed a rather hard-nosed 'robbery / homicide' detective from another precinct who initially clashed with Sergeant Voight at the scene of a crime.


She somewhat reminded me of the teen-aged daughter (played by Sarah Jeffery) of the policewoman played by Jennifer Lopez on Shades of Blue, and I wondered if they might be related ─ it seemed just about impossible that the same actress could play both roles due to the age differences of the characters.

Sarah Jeffery

So I did some research, and now I know why the actress looked so familiar to me ─ she was on a recent science fiction T.V. series called Revolution. When I read that, I immediately placed her, although the actress's name was unfamiliar to me: Tracy Spiridakos.

The two actresses are not related, but it is interesting to me that both are Canadian.

*****
Mark finished up his mechanical work and had returned to his bedroom midway through the noon-hour, so my opportunity was presented to try for some shed exercise. I was out there by 12:49 p.m.

I suppose that my presence in the shed was responsible for the demise of some kind of long, dark, wasp-shaped insect that flew with an uncontrolled power, and didn't carry itself with the purpose that any wasp I am familiar with would.

It careened towards the base of the open shed door, struck the bottom part of the door, and landed all a-flutter onto a section of spider webbing just under the corner of the door below the hinging.

Immediately a very large grey spider came streaking into sight from behind the shadows in back of the base of the door, and was immediately atop the insect. There didn't seem too much of a struggle ─ had it been an actual wasp, I would have expected some fight from it, for this was not the sort of spider that uses webbing to subdue its prey. Rather, it grabs its victim and overpowers it.

I don't know enough about spiders to identify it other than to describe that it tends to create a spreading horizontal web like a mat or blanket that doesn't seem to be sticky like an orb-weaver spider would create. The web's purpose just seems to be to telegraph to the spider ─ nestled deep inside a sort of funnel it has made at one end of this mat ─ that it has a visitor, and it will come rushing forth to investigate.

They're extremely fast, moving almost as a blur.

I slowly moved the door to gain a better perspective of the spectacle, but the spider wasn't fussy about being in the sunlight, and it disappeared back into the shadows with its meal.

I suppose that it would have to be some type of funnel web spider, but it doesn't much look like the giant house spider in the linked-to Wikipedia article ─ it doesn't extend its legs out as naturally as the spider in the photo at that article is doing, and its body is far fuller.

Another photo of the giant house spider is the first one in this article at SpiderBytes.com titled The real house spiders of Vancouver, but my spider was shaped more like the second spider (the hobo).

Had I not been in the shed exercising, the shed door would have been closed, and whatever insect it was would not have fallen onto that web just inside and beneath the doorway.

But I'm getting badly sidetracked.

Suffice to say that I had my exercise, and then came into the house for my first meal of the day. Mark had gone for the afternoon, and locked the front door.

Then at exactly 2:17 p.m. I commenced my 40 minutes of sunning, seated in a chair in the backyard, and wearing just a pair of cargo shorts with the legs pulled up.

I left the front door locked.

About 10 minutes into my session, my eldest stepson Tho appeared from around the side of the house, announcing that he had let his younger brother Poté have his key, and thus had been unable to get through the front door.

He went into the house via the sliding glass sundeck door, and I soon could hear him talking ─ he had let his girlfriend in through the front door.

The gal didn't leave until nearly 4:00 p.m. ─ she is rarely here that long anymore, if at all.

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Do you know whether or not you are living with any of the risk factors that could contribute to something like heart disease?

Bizarrely, a Canadian health survey found that almost 18% of the people who had at least five different risk factors for heart disease would not acknowledge there was a potential problem when their attention was drawn to those bad habits.

It's nearly as if lots of us actually want to die.

Here are some reports about that survey and what it revealed about us:

CBS.news.com

Consumer.HealthDay.com

JacksDailyDose.com

Good luck...if you're one of those that find any change of habit to be too big an inconvenience!

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You have likely heard something about the trouble Johnson & Johnson has been in concerning claims from people that the company's talcum powder has caused them to develop conditions such as ovarian cancer ─ yet Johnson & Johnson keeps selling the stuff.

Here are a couple of reports about the latest news over this fiasco:

Bloomberg.com

HSIonline.com

I used to use a fair bit of talcum powder in my teens and into my 20s. But I think that well before I became 30 in the Fall of 1979, I had read how talcum is bad for the lungs.

And why wouldn't it be? People who work in industries where it is necessary to breathe fine particulate material on a regular basis have often come down with dreadful lung diseases because the dust settles into the minutest pockets (alveoli) of the lungs. Those small pockets can become clogged, and the material clogging them remain there until the death of the person affected.

Well, I sure never wanted my alveoli starting to become clogged from regular use of baby powder, so I gave up on using the stuff.

Besides, there is enough air pollution everywhere anyway ─ I didn't need to be creating my own.

øøøøøøø

To my recollection, I have never tasted commercial stevia, but I sure do like the reputation being built up around the wonderful plant from which true stevia is derived.

If I was better off financially, I might even consider keeping myself supplied with the plants.

Research has found that ─ in the laboratory ─ stevia extract seems to perform better than antibiotics in killing the bacteria responsible for tick-transmitted Lyme disease.

Here are a couple of reports:

Collective-Evolution.com

HSIonline.com

I feel fortunate to live in a part of North America where ─ insofar as I know ─ there are no ticks. I cannot imagine being too afraid to walk through the tall grass and thick shrubbery for fear of ticks attaching to my clothing and then my skin.

What disgusting things!

Heck, I would be afraid to even own a pet, and let it into the house. How do people in tick-infested regions cope?

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Well, I had best wind up today's post smartly, for my younger brother Mark may be making an early appearance this evening.

Here to close with 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 my little suite in a house located on Ninth Street, and maybe two houses up from Third Avenue.
SATURDAY, May 22, 1976

I got up before 5:00 a.m., having been awake quite some time. I'm still full, and frequently thirsty; I plan to go to bed later this morning.

The music I was so happy about early last eve developed into an "every other" sort of thing.

I last night suggested I might go to a drive-in tonight, but I see I only have $10.

I went back to bed c. 7:40 a.m. and arose again 10:20 a.m., having spent about half this time in the land of dream.

I eventually started a letter to Ron and was working on it when Bill came.

We took the dozen cider and tried to visit Allan & Marie Varga, but got no answer. We had the same result when we tried to reach David at 1:00 p.m. So all we could do was go get Bill's mother.

When she got ready we headed for the Cloverdale Inn, after a small glass of milk.

We had far more beers than anyone planned. 

Finally, I saw a guy that resembled Harry Klassen and went over to speak to him. It was he.

He lived nearby, and 1 of the 2 girls at the table was a sister, Carol. Apparently he's been divorced, and he also said Ron Scott is married.

Harry joined us and we had further beers. He wanted us to sup with him, and even stay the night, but I BSed that I was obligated to dine with Bill & mother.

Anyway, we're to meet next week in Cloverdale.

What an amazing thing!

He's shorter than I, though not lighter. 

Back in New West after Bill took home his mother, he bought me 2 hamburgers and 2 apple turnovers.

I left at 11:00 p.m. for home and was abed by 11:30 p.m., drunk.
It was the Victoria Day long weekend, and a radio station had advertised that it was going to play music à la Happy Days or American Graffiti throughout, but I was sorely disappointed to discover that only every second song was such a 'flashback.'    

My dear old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that was likely little more than four blocks from my room. He dropped by while I was working upon a letter to Ron Bain, and American pen-pal I had.

I think we had the dozen ciders remaining from the previous weekend. We tried finding Al & Marie Varga at their New Westminster apartment, but failed; and then also failed to find my old friend Philip David Prince at his rented room at 330 Fourth Street.

So with nothing better to do, Bill drove us to Maillardville to where his mother Anne Gregory was renting a suite, and then the three of us headed off to the beer parlour or pub of the main hotel in Cloverdale. I have no idea if that business still operates, but it apparently used to be at 5708 176th Street.

What was so amazing about finding Harry Klassen there was that I had not seen him since we knew each other as students at Surrey Centre Elementary School when I attended in the late 1950s. He had been one of my best school friends.

I remember this incident, but have long believed that it occurred a few years earlier.

Unfortunately, my lack of income and an overall reclusiveness were to quickly scotch this friendship renewal, and I have always regretted it. 

I didn't remember that a sister Carol was present. The only sister I can now remember from school was his sister Kathy.

The two of them were incredibly fair ─ their hair was essentially white. 

But I have to cut short this reminiscence ─ my wife Jack unexpectedly showed up from Vancouver at 5:49 p.m., and is downstairs cooking. Fortunately, both of her sons are home, so I am taking the time to proofread this post before publishing it, and then going downstairs to socialize with her.
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