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Sunday, July 10, 2016

★ If You Have Not Yet Heard, FluMist Declared Ineffective by CDC │ America's Crushing Hidden Hospital Fees

Yesterday I caught up on seven hour-long T.V. programmes I had previously missed:  the first three episodes of season three of The Last Ship; the latest episode of Containment; and the first three episodes of season two of Zoo.

They were mainly commercial-free, but it still took a lot of time.

Thus, it is not too much surprise that it was well past midnight before I made it to bed.

Sleep was typical:  a bathroom break during the night that marked the commencement of fragmented sleep, and I finally rose at something like 7:38 a.m.

My youngest step-son Pote was up ─ his overnighted girlfriend had left earlier, and he was to head off at approximately 10:28 a.m. to catch his bus for work.

When my younger brother Mark arrived home shortly after 10:00 a.m. from his girlfriend Bev's residence where he had spent the night, he didn't seem unduly abused for having celebrated his 64th birthday yesterday.

I spent some of the morning setting up yet another new post at my Lawless Spirit website, and I know that I'll be fortunate to have the post finished and published by Wednesday.

The day has been a mix of cloud and Sun.  I might have gone outside midday to sit in the backyard, but the cloud was then prevailing.  Instead, I sought a nap in bed.

Mark was gone again by the time I rose.

And then I yielded to that old accursed addiction.

In Friday's post, I presented some photos of a reunion I had with two former co-workers ─ Angela and Barb.

We all took photos, but I have only seen one that either of the ladies took ─ Angela E-mailed it to me:

That's me with Barb.

I look dreadful, but I blame the mistreatment Angela gave the image.  For one thing, it has been resized, so I suspect that its quality was drastically reduced.

I appear somewhat jowly, I think.

And it looks smoky there where we sat in White Spot in Whalley, but it was not ─ this is a photo that I took of Barb and Angela as a comparison:

See how clear and sharp my photo is?

Here is another of Angela alone:

Angela was quite a beautiful young woman ─ I was quite struck by the 'photo of a photo' of her that I think her daughter took:

I have no idea what her age is in that old shot ─ her early 20s, or even her teens?

Time does a number on us all, doesn't it?


I don't know anyone who has tried the FluMist vaccine, but I certainly haven't.  In fact, I have never had any sort of flu vaccine, and have no intention of ever submitting to any.

FluMist has been told to desist, with the CDC pulling the plug on this weird experimental vaccine that's supposed to be sprayed up your nose, like a snot-rocket in reverse.

It's aimed at people who fear needles, especially kids, and it's notorious for making your nose run like it's training for the Summer Olympics -- so much so that some of the folks who get it feel like they're on their way to developing the flu.

Turns out it doesn't work... at all. Not even a little. And it shouldn't have been approved in the first place.

The CDC admits they actually knew the mist was a bust just three months after they approved it, when their immediate data showed it made no difference at all in flu risk in children.

Not a small difference. NONE... AT... ALL!

Yet instead of coming clean and telling the public they failed, the agency dragged its bureaucratic feet for TWO FULL YEARS before finally 'fessing up last month and admitting that the nasal spray doesn't work.

But as far as I'm concerned there's no big shock here.

If anything, that just means FluMist is consistent with the flu shot -- because no matter how they hype it, no matter what nonsense they use to try to sell it, the normal vaccine pushed on the masses every year is a big bust.

Like the mist, it offers almost no protection at all in many seasons, especially in seniors.

And even in a "GOOD" year, it's not the sure thing it's been made out to be.

They use rosy numbers to make it seem better than it really is; but once you do the math, you'll find the absolute protection rate of the flu shot is just 1.5 percent.

That's it.

Even worse, getting the shot for "normal" flu can actually INCREASE your risk of getting more dangerous pandemic strains when they strike.

So while docs are now urging patients to go back to the traditional flu shot instead of the mist, I've got a better idea that you can use this coming flu season... and every other flu season.

Try something that WORKS instead!

The flu might change from year to year, but the things that boost your immune system so your own body can fight it off don't. Start with some vitamin D, which studies show is up to 800 percent more effective than the flu shot.

And if you happen to get sick despite vitamin D -- hey, it can happen to the best of us -- don't turn to Tamiflu. There's a safe and natural remedy, which is every bit as effective without the risks.

Learn more right here.

Helping you resist the mist....
Here is one other report about the CDC admission about FluMist:


I don't understand how most 'average' Americans get by where hospital fees are concerned.  Anything I read about the system in the States sounds hopeless.

Think your insurance is good?

Odds are, it isn't nearly as good as you think -- because copays at the doctor's office and pharmacist aren't the only bills you could be hit with.

At any given moment, something could go wrong... and you could find yourself in the ER.

Once you're back home, glad to be alive, you'll want to thank the hospital and count your lucky stars... right up until the moment the bill arrives.

Instead of thanking the hospital, you'll be using every four-letter word you know and maybe making up some new ones. And instead of counting your lucky stars, you'll be counting what's left in your bank account -- assuming anything's left at all!

It's not hundreds of dollars anymore, which was bad enough.

Now, the average hospital bill -- the portion YOU have to pay -- has topped $1,000, rising 37 percent in just five years, according to a new analysis.

That's with GOOD insurance, mind you.

If you're stuck with a crummy Obamacare plan, your share of the bill could reach nearly $2,000!

The problem is they don't just hit you up once. They double- and even TRIPLE-dip, with deductibles... and copays... and even co-insurance, where you have to kick in for a share of every fee beyond the usual deductibles and copays.

Sometimes, you just can't win.

Even with "good" insurance, you're one heart attack, stroke, or bad chicken dinner away from an ER trip that can knock all your years of careful financial planning off the tracks.

So do yourself a favor, and do these two things right now:
  1. Get out your policy and make sure you know what you'll owe. Look for the deductibles, copays, and co-insurance for hospital care so you don't get sticker shock if you ever have to use that part of your plan.
  2. Stash aside a little cash every now and then. Make a slush fund for your health -- money to have handy so when you're hit with a surprise bill, you're not forced to decide between paying up and buying food.
And when that bill does come, don't just write a check and mail it off.

Call the hospital's billing office and ask for a manager. Keep calm and polite -- no matter how ticked off you are by the surprise bill -- because the guy on the other end of the line has the power to remove fees, cut the bill, and come up with an interest-free payment plan for what's left.

Saving you money....
I don't know what source was used for the above report, but I dug up a couple of fairly recent similar articles:


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.

The room was being rented in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.
THURSDAY, July 10, 1975

It rained last night, and thundered.

I arose perhaps 5:10 a.m., having slept well, and dreamed.

I recall one in which I went to town with a kit bag or something, and sought a room; I'd spent several nights in some kind of doorway on a sidewalk where I and my belongings were safe, but we suffered rain.  At a rooming house I passed two females (in their room or the hall?) and for some reason entered a room, as if seeking someone.  There was a person abed, and I turned and was leaving.  One of the girls stopped me, saying that it was alright, that my father would likely wish to see me.  And that is who she appeared with.  It seems I knew the one girl; she apparently stayed with us a couple years earlier, with a young daughter (who hereafter showed up an older child); they were related to me thru marriage or something.  But now she and her friend had taken up prostitution (and were in fact busy with their records when I first came on them; her present lifestyle was totally incongruous with the girl I knew, and I found it hard to credit her change).  The old man was intent on helping me find a place.  Later, I recall David as living in a particular building, and me having to rush off to S.A.N.E.

The morning appears to be a mix of cloud with sun; about 7: 45 a.m. there was a short thunderstorm.

I'll be leaving for dad's with some toilet paper rolls no later than 9:00 a.m.  Hopefully the beef & kidney pie will be ready and awaiting my arrival. 

The sky did not turn out to be considerably cloudy.

I arrived to find that their oven instructions precluded the use of aluminum tin-foil, so no pie was made; we fed on a beef kidney & hamburger stew.

I gave dad our Olympic ticket number.

I finally left at 10:00 p.m., running some of the way home; arrival was about 10:50 p.m.

I'll be abed about 11:45 p.m.
Concerning the main dream, "town" where I had gone would have been Vancouver

My old friend Philip David Prince somehow figured into a snatch of dream that I also recalled, and S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) was the New Westminster charitable organization for which I worked once a week as a truck swamper.  

S.A.N.E. is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society.

I was evidently expected for a special meal at the apartment of my father Hector and his girlfriend Maria Fadden.

Oddly enough, I do not remember ever visiting them at that apartment which was located on Sunset Street, roughly midway between Boundary Road and the Burnaby Hospital as this Google map may display for you.    

It may be that they only lived there for a narrow period of time, but I would think that it would still stick in my memory ─ I often hiked to visit them, and then hiked back home again as I did this day.  This was not a light undertaking.

The toilet paper was probably a batch that my mother Irene had given me ─ she was an evening office janitress at Scott Paper in New Westminster, and thus sometimes came across culled paper products.   

The reason I had hoped that the meal would be awaiting me is because my father and Maria were rather heavy drinkers, and it was always possible that I would arrive and find them plastered and nothing done.

My father and Maria had previously thrown in with me on the price of an Olympic Lottery ticket that I subsequently mail-ordered, and I now had the ticket in my possession.

To have made it back to my room in about 50 minutes suggests to me that I must have done a fair amount of running that evening.

I wish that I had gotten the breaks in my earlier life ─ I had so much potential in many areas.
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