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Monday, July 25, 2016

WordPress Travail │ Essential Tremor

I have just finished having a lengthy telephone conversation with a Telus agent after I phoned them to cancel the services agreement I signed up for this past Friday ─ one that would have included Telus Optik TV and Internet.

The agent ─ James ─ was very understanding, and really quite a charming chap.  I think we sort of bonded ─ I was taken aback by how delighted he seemed to be to discover that we both had the same month and day for a birthday ─ I was, of course, older.

He claimed that he had worked for Telus for 10 years, and this is the first time he has 'found' someone sharing the same birthday as he.

Anyway, that worry is now over with.  This household will remain with Shaw ─ for however long we are a household. 

It might not be for another two years ─ the length of the Telus contract I got out of.

Today has been a non-exercise day.

It started off fairly cloudy, but the Sun took charge as the morning advanced.

I worked at finishing the post I started last Thursday at my Thai-Iceland website, but getting it completed became an extremely agitating challenge ─ at the end, I was reduced to much 'wailing and gnashing of teeth.'

Just before I was ready to publish ─ and I had previewed the post to see that all was indeed well ─ I added a heading and two drop caps just beneath it to represent a 'Q' (question) and 'A' (answer).

You can easily enough see the heading and the two drop caps towards the top of the long post, if you are at all curious:  Iceland Dubai Website.

That's the only meddling I did to the post.

But when I previewed it again, so much of the long post had gone amok.

I have scores of references in the post ─ 80, I believe; and the link to each of them is bulleted.  I also include green text displaying just what that link is going to be.

And in about half of the references, I include a 'Publication date' when I had one available for the reference. 

Well, somehow all three of these features became centred, whereas before they had been left-justified.

I couldn't understand it.

After all, each of those references also had a small image and snippets of descriptive text that did not get centred.  These remained left-justified, although I did make the descriptive text justified.

Somehow, the centring was selectively done of just the three specific reference features exactly as I have described ─ it was not some post-wide centring of all text, for the descriptive justified text was unaffected throughout the long post.

What I was forced to do to put things aright was highlight each of those features that had been centred ─ one at a time ─ and select the option to have them left-justified precisely as they had been.

It took time. 

It was approaching noon before I could at last publish the post.

I wanted to get out and do some shopping, but I hate leaving so late in the day.  However, I felt that I left myself no choice ─ I had forsaken my usual small sessions of exercise to that point, and I did not have it in me to try and catch up on them.

So I rallied and began readying for the two-mile hike to the government liquor store over at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard in Whalley.

It was 12:32 p.m. when I set forth.

I was only after a bottle of dark rum ─ no beer this time.

So I went and made that purchase, and then proceeded ─ somewhat backtracking ─ to Save-On-Foods to do some grocery shopping. 

And with that accomplished, I came directly home again.  It was no later than 2:14 p.m.

I found the brown hound living beyond our backyard fence to be barking and barking; and it is still doing so more than two hours later.

I wish that beast nothing but the permanent and speedy silence of death.  Its intrusive booming bark penetrates to every part of this house.

On a related note, of late I have found tinnitus to be very pronounced.  I am only aware of it when I am distant from any noise source, such as when I sit here at my computer working.

But it is becoming both a concern and also an annoyance.


When I was a young man, I could write rather neatly when I made the effort.

That hasn't been possible now for some years ─ no matter how much I might try.  

Heck, sometimes I can't even sign my own name like I used to.  I  have to somehow marshal concentration, but also perform the signature with an unconscious natural fluidity.

If I just focus on signing my name with care, then it's going to be a shaky, awkward mess.

I guess it's nervous and muscular degeneration at play.

I just hope it isn't related to a condition called essential tremor

Wouldn't it be awful to not even be able to put a spoonful or forkful of food to your own mouth because your trembling was so uncontrollable?

In that Wikipedia link to the condition, under the category of treatment this statement is made:
The US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved Insightec’s Exablate Neuro system to treat essential tremor in 2016.
Here are a couple of reports about this:

Note the potential issues of this treatment?
Side effects of the ExAblate device included finger numbness, headache, unsteadiness, loss of complete body control and walking disturbance. Additional potential side effects included skin burns, scar formation and blood clots, the FDA said.

The device shouldn't be used by people who cannot have an MRI, including people who have had implantation of a metallic medical device such as a pacemaker, the agency said. Pregnant women and people with advanced kidney disease, heart disease or high blood pressure also shouldn't have the procedure.
Imagine going from having trembles to losing complete body control!

Would that mean the victim would be bedridden thereafter?

I have read counsel that people diagnosed with essential tremor absolutely must keep in mind that this is not Parkinson's disease, and is not leading up to the development of Parkinson's disease ─ fear of that specific disease might be why someone would undergo the ExAblate device.

I have also read it recommended that a chelated form of magnesium supplementation ─ as well as a magnesium-rich diet ─ just may prove remedial.  After all, even if a person is not identifiably deficient in the mineral, one's levels still might be low.

And just because it may be demonstrated that a person is meeting the Recommended Daily Intake (RDI) that the government has set for magnesium intake does not mean that this is all that is required for ideal health. 

I would certainly explore magnesium supplementation before ever undergoing the ExAblate device.


I'm ready to close out 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 I was renting was located in a house situated on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

At the time, I only worked one day per week ─ Friday ─ for a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that today is known as Fraserside Community Services Society.

When I was working for them as a swamper on their blue pick-up truck, they were located in a building that was situated right about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now spills out onto Carnarvon Street.
FRIDAY, July 25, 1975

All morning I suffered over fatigue.

The first part of the day was overcast, but eventually we had hot sun.  I worked with Bill, and we had an easy day, though we commenced under the threat of a moving job.

I looked rather messy today, not having brought home my brush.

I did not eat a lunch.

When I knocked off, I took home the first 2 volumes of an old encyclopedia, plus some recipe and nutrition pamphlets for mom.

Then I walked out here to mom's.

A note was here from Mark asking me to phone when I arrived, but at 7:45 p.m. there was no answer.

An hour later Cathy phoned from Chilliwack, asking me to mail her unemployment card, and bring her birth control pills tomorrow if I could convince Bill to go out; a kiss was promised recompense.

I meanwhile overate.

I plan to stay at Mark's tonight; seems dear Alex turned off the hot water, denying me a bath.

Charlie and possibly one other went camping too, I believe she, Cathy, said.
Is it peculiar that I no longer have a memory of "Bill," my co-swamper at S.A.N.E.?

My mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex had left at the start of the week for a trip of a couple of weeks' duration 'back East.'  I was expected to keep a check on their home.  And anyway, it was my mailing address.

The house is now gone, but it was located in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey:  12106 - 90th Avenue.

To walk from my room in New Westminster to her home would take about 1½ hours at a fast pace.

My younger brother Mark had mentioned a day or two earlier that he and his girlfriend (and her two young daughters) were going camping for three or four days, and he had invited me along.  However, they were to leave fairly early on Friday, my day of work.

I guess Mark came over for me to our mother's home on Friday, but of course I was not there ─ I had gone home Thursday in order to be present at my room to get to S.A.N.E. Friday morning.

"Cathy" was Mark's absolutely lovely girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther.  I had quite the crush on that young thing.

If there was a kiss involved in deliverance of her birth control pills, then I would most definitely be tempting my old friend William Alan Gill of the drive out to where they were camped in the Chilliwack area.

He loved Jeanette and her little girls.

And he loved to drive whenever someone was with him.

I doubt I would have mentioned any promised kiss, however.  I'm sure that was reserved for me!  

Mark and Jeanette were renting a home together in Whalley ─ the house was on Bentley Road, not too far at all from the intersection of 108th Avenue & King George Highway.

To get there from my mother's home meant another walk ─ this time, maybe 4¼ miles.

It was Charlie Little who seems to have likely gone camping, too.  He, Mark, Jeanette, and I ─ along with Mark's German shepherd Daboda ─ had all gone at the end of June on a two night hiking/camping trip involving Pierce Lake in that same region.

Charlie was a nice guy, and always seemed to be happy-go-lucky.  Some years later, somebody told me that he committed suicide.
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