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Sunday, September 11, 2016

💀 ☠ On the Path to Self-Destruction │ Chemotherapy's 'Chemo Brain' Very Real and Long-Lasting

My dear younger brother Mark fooled me last evening by showing up ahead of 8:30 p.m. ─ he normally spends Saturday nights at the home of his girlfriend Bev, but apparently she had gone to some music concert somewhere.

I don't generally care to have him here Saturday evenings because that is when I catch up on T.V. shows I am unable to watch during the week, and having him here drunkenly blathering through them is no pleasure.

However, last evening he passed out for at least an hour, and when he revived, he was rather quiet during the latest episode of Zoo, and even opted to head on up to his bedroom ere it was quite finished.

His initial homecoming was irritating because of my involvement with 'negative engagement,' but I soon actually thanked God for the interruption.

But fool that I am, instead of smartly getting to bed after I was done with T.V. last night, I resumed my dissolute occupation of the early evening.

It was 1:25 a.m. before I found myself in bed.

My break in initial sleep may have been towards 5:00 a.m. ─ it is my usual cue to use the bathroom.  I slept intermittently thereafter, and around 7:45 a.m. checked the time and decided to rise for the day.

My spirits were profoundly low, and I had no idea how I would make anything of my day.

And it was a sunny day.

I did some work compiling material for the old post edit I commenced yesterday at my website My Retirement Dream.

I could have doubled the work, but I needed to try and salvage something of the day.  I was low on liquor ─ the bottle of rye whisky I bought early this past week was nigh done; so I mused on getting in a walk to the government liquor store and procuring another bottle of something, along with some beer.

But my nerves were bad, and I felt so darned low ─ I needed to try and seek some refuge in bed in the hope of a little restoration.

And it worked ─ when I checked the time after a good rest, it was something like 11:02 a.m.  I felt that I could go public and get in some kind of walk.

At times like this, I do not want to announce my intentions to anyone here in the house.  Mark had been napping, but he arose just ahead of me.

Fortunately, he soon began some weed-eating out in the backyard, and I was able to ready myself and slip away.  My eldest stepson Tho was busy at the computer in the boys' den area, whereas his younger brother Pote had forsaken the house prior to 8:30 a.m. to catch his bus to work.

It was 11:58 a.m. as I walked the driveway towards the street, unsure of just what I would be doing.

I rambled rather aimlessly, trying to settle on a course of action.  But ultimately, I decided to hike to the government liquor store at Nordel Way & Scott Road (120th Street) here in Surrey.

I walked slowly so as to derive as much benefit from the Sun as I could.

Alas, had I known that I would not be shopping for some groceries after making my liquor store purchases, I likely would have gotten a dozen cans of beer instead of the half-dozen that complemented the bottle of rye whisky that was my main purchase.

I would have probably taken to the railway tracks nearby the liquor store and gotten into the extra half-dozen beers.

But I did not, of course; and I was home by 1:44 p.m.  I had not been gone two hours.

Only Tho was home, so I decided that I was going to derive even more sunshine.  I ventured out into the backyard while sporting just a pair of cut-offs, and I sat in a chair facing towards the very warm Sun from about 1:45 p.m., drinking two cans of beer and passing better than 40 minutes out there.

I am feeling better than I was this morning, but my spirits are still very low.  There is no question that I need the financial means to effect a change of life, or I am going to destroy myself.

I cannot bear what I am living for too much longer.


I wish to post a fairly old family photo ─ the description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the scanned image saved:

As you can see at the right border of this photo, it was part of a roll of film that was developed in December 1972.

That is my mother Irene Dorosh, although I do not believe that she had yet married her future husband Alex and taken on that surname.

I believe that she is posed with one of Alex's brothers, but I cannot guess where the photo was taken.

Yesterday I posted of a study that found how the hormone melatonin can suppress the growth of breast cancer stem cells.

Conventional treatment involves things like chemotherapy, unfortunately.

More and more, it is becoming irrefutable that chemotherapy results in diminished brain integrity, and this reduction may even be permanent; even a fish-oil rich diet has no impact in undoing or preventing the damage.

The condition is commonly known as chemo brain (post-chemotherapy cognitive impairment).

A very recent study involving mice reached this conclusion:
In summary, the present study provides compelling evidence for long-term (3 months) persistence of both cognitive and neurogenic deficits induced by a chemotherapeutic treatment currently used to treat human breast cancer. Our pre-clinical rodent model is relevant for the clinical population, in which both long-lasting cognitive impairments and hippocampal volume reductions have been reported.  This model enables future investigation of specific mechanisms that underlie the persistence of cognitive impairments  induced  from  chemotherapy.  With  that  knowledge, this model can be a valuable tool to assess the efficacy of lifestyle interventions, such as diet or exercise, in preventing and/or reversing chemotherapy related cognitive impairments. 
The study is called Long-lasting impairments in adult neurogenesis, spatial learning and memory from a standard chemotherapy regimen used to treat breast cancer (doi: 10.1016/j.bbr.2016.07.043), but only the abstract is available to the general public without payment of a fee.

I made a search at Sci-Hub.ac and found an unedited version of the study ─ the unedited version is a 46-page .pdf document.

However, there are some interesting reports on the study, such as these two:

That latter report cited the following as a reference:

And I will offer one other report: 


Unlike the latter two mainstream reports, the first two reports are concerned with more than just reporting about the study, and actually try to cover options.


My younger brother Mark must have spoken to my eldest step-son Tho about mowing the lawn, for Tho got at it around 4:15 p.m.

I don't think that it has been mowed for over a month.  However, the grass never got tall due to the Summer weather ─ only certain weeds managed to scale to any heights.  Heck, some dandelion-like weeds were a foot tall ─ fortunately, they were sufficiently isolated from one another and not especially noticeable.

I am going to close today's post 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 house I was renting the room at was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I had managed to get to bed the evening before this journal entry at around 8:00 p.m.
THURSDAY, September 11, 1975

I awoke about 3:00 a.m., feeling capable and needful of further sleep; my thoughts were to do just that at mom's while she attends her Uncle Harry's funeral.

I found my 11 laps could only be performed rather slowly.

I went to mom's, with no fog dampening me, and found a tithe receipt.

I gorged on plums, and ate otherwise around 11:00 a.m.

Note:  I left my place at 7:00 a.m.

In today's mail was MuscleMag 3.

About 12:45 p.m. Nell, Randy, & Jock came and took mom to her Uncle Harry's funeral at 1:00 p.m.  

And then I fouled myself with Sept.'s Playboy; I felt inferior and blemished, and depressed over my build, all the way home; only the lottery win can possibly save me.  

The things I would do if I won!  How decent and noble I would become!  I hope I never suffer from pride; I don't see how I could, though; without God and the lottery, I well know I would never amount to the slightest worth.  May it please be!

I did my evening 350 leg raises at mom's.

This sunny day marked the first episode of Space 1999:  excellent.

Bed at 9:00 p.m.
My mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex lived in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.  Their home was actually my main mailing address, and although the little house no longer exists, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

To go straight there from my room would take about 1½ hours at a fast walk.

First that morning, though, I went to the New Westminster Secondary School track to put in 11 laps.

I don't remember my mother attending an uncle's funeral locally ─ her Uncle Harry did not live around here.  As for as I know, he probably lived in Ontario.

Anyway, I made the hike to her home, and found that a tithe receipt from the Worldwide Church of God had arrived for me in the mail a day or two previously.  It was likely only for $5, for I had little income to tithe from.  Even so, I steadfastly did so, always rounding up to the nearest dollar.

I had tithed to that church organization for years, even though I never once in my life attended one of their physical churches.

It was my mother's youngest sister Nell Halverson, and two of Nell's boys ─ Randy and Jock (John) ─ who came to pick up my mother and take her to wherever the funeral was being held.  

This has me quite perplexed.  Nell and her large household had been living in Surrey for two years at most, and they were the first of my maternal relatives to ever have done so.  No Uncle Harry of my mother's ever lived here.

I don't know now how I came upon that issue of Playboy at my mother's home, but I fell prey to its pictorials, and suffered the pangs of guilt thereafter.

I'm still waiting for that big lottery win to make a life-change possible.

At some point before I hiked back to New Westminster, I got the 350 leg-raises out of the way that I apparently was trying to perform on a daily basis.

I guess in 1975, titling a science fiction series with the year 1999 seemed plausible.  However, here we are in the year 2016, and no such lunar colonization is even remotely possible as yet.  

Interesting ─ I had forgotten about that T.V. series.
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