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Saturday, September 17, 2016

Our Over-Medicated, Fractured Seniors

Both of my step-sons were out when my younger brother Mark went up to his bedroom for the night last evening.  Soon, I had come here to my computer and became waywardly engaged.

However, anon I heard my eldest step-son Tho arriving home in his car, and that was my cue to forsake the vile nonsense and hie myself to bed.

Despite the lost time, I believe that it was no worse than 11:45 p.m.

I fared rather well insofar as concerned the duration of the first solid block of sleep, for it was after 5:00 a.m. before I checked the time and used the bathroom.

I could hear it raining, despite my earplugs.  I had noticed the street outside was wet during the evening, but whatever rain there had been to cause that was insignificant by comparison.

After the bathroom break, my return to bed had some intermittent snatches of sleep, but my day was to commence shortly after 7:00 a.m.

I spent most of the morning continuing my edit on the old post at my website Siam-Longings ─ I began the edit on Thursday, and still hope to be done by Monday.

By the time I had quitted the edit just into the noon-hour, my brother Mark had returned to his bedroom for a nap.

I soon returned to my own bed, although I am unsure if I actually managed any napping.

Mark was gone from the house ─ and probably gone for the day ─ when I emerged from my bedroom.  As I type these words, it is 3:30 p.m.  My eldest step-son Tho is watching T.V. ─ most likely because his younger brother Pote is in bed with his omnipresent girlfriend in the boys' den area, and Tho feels too timid to enter therein to use the computer he would otherwise have been locked into.

This is no life for a 66-year-old such as I.

The day will be heavily overcast and dank, with periods of rain.  But there is no wind exacerbating conditions.


Here is a photo I wish now to post ─ the caption beneath is from the Google album where I have the image stored:

A beach on Koh Samet in Thailand, late in January or early February, 2003.

I had nothing to do with the photo ─ my female companions had appropriated my camera.

Of the five people in the photo, three are strangers ─ only Tumma in the tee-shirt captioned 'WoW,' and tall Jack (Supranee) behind her, were part of our group.

The other three people had just been walking along the beach and 'my' girls got them to pose with them.

I certainly am not as stable as once I was ─ I am speaking specifically of balance here.

But at least I take no medications, and thus I am not made even more prone to some sort of crippling fall.

Heck, I already had one of those ─ but it involved a failed leap up some steps here in the house, and my quadriceps tendon was sundered from my patella (knee cap) as a result.

That happened November 1, 2010; surgery for reattachment of the tendon was the evening of November 5.

No doubt, some of my instability today is attributable to the aftermath of the accident and its essential surgery.

Sometimes it almost seems like the medical world is trying to exterminate seniors ─ the masses of prescriptions those poor old souls are inflicted with can sometimes be astounding.

But what happens when a medication causes a senior to fall and suffer a fracture?

Just about nothing ─ note this sentence from a study on the topic of such fracture-inducing falls:
Approximately 7% of these patients discontinued this drug exposure after the fracture, but this was offset by new users after fracture. 
A mere 7% of the victims discontinued the medication.  In other words, 93% of the fall-and-fracture victims were kept on the culprit medication!

If interested, you can read a couple of easy reports at the following websites concerning the study:



Also, check out these more proactive reports on the study:


And do you need an excuse to keep drinking coffee?

Well, how about this?

Mail Online


Once again, though, let's temper our enthusiasm with some proactive advice:


Okay, that's enough for today ─ and the latter afternoon hereabouts seems to have broken into some most unexpected sunshine!

I am closing now with a 41-year-old entry from my journal back 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.

My big plan for the day was a long-distance hike out to my mother Irene Dorosh's home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey

Her home was my main mailing address.  The house no longer exists, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

The "long-distance" rout involved following the King George Highway all the way to 72nd Avenue (Newton Road) in Newton.  From there, I would turn right and ─ a short distance along 72nd Avenue ─ turn right again onto the railway tracks.

Then I would follow the tracks for at least three miles until I was able to access my mother's street.  She lived a half-dozen or so homes down 90th Avenue, on the right-hand side.
WEDNESDAY, September 17, 1975

It was near 3:00 a.m. when I awoke; for a while last night I was awake from actual cold.

I have my order ready for my Musclemag Annual 76 supposedly to be published in January.

Departure for mom's via Newton, with a boiling chicken for Sunday:  5:00 a.m.

I went by David's to drop off a note with an explanation for Saturday morn, but again his light was on.

As I turned onto McInnes I saw an apparently drunk woman being departed from by a taxi, and I saw a drunk fellow by the Fraser apartments. 

I found it necessary to stroan before making the bridge; then a double evacuation was necessary by the time I was across from Ruby's Drive-in; I was delayed in converse at the bus bench in front of Hi-Low by an older fellow with baggage bound for Newton; I jogged to Newton from Kennedy Road; and after starting up the tracks, urination was again engaged in.

Must have been my plum breakfast.

While talking to the fellow in Whalley, it was still so dark I couldn't see him clearly.

There was no fog today, and the weather was quite sunny.

My weight was about 185.  However, I fed extremely heavily on bread today, and much fats were included in the diet.

Mail today presented me with my La Cotta cooking implement, Christmas stamps, and a Plain Truth.  Mom is to give me $2 Sunday for 25 of those stamps.

Anticipating a glut, this morn I took with me my jacket; the cold made me feel glad I went to the trouble.

Bed at 9:30 p.m.
My old friend Philip David Prince may have been living in the very cheap Fraser Apartments.  I had tried to leave him a note Saturday morning, but he heard me trying to wedge it into his door jam and I heard him rushing towards the door.

I took off at a run ─ I didn't want to get enmeshed into visiting him because I did not want my hike to my mother's home to get delayed.

So it would seem I was going to try and leave him yet another note, but he was apparently not in bed sleeping ─ at that hour, it just made no sense.  He didn't have a job, and he was no walker ─ why was he up that early?

I wonder how many plums I had for breakfast anyway?  

I needed a pee before I got to the Pattullo Bridge; and then when I had almost gotten to Whalley ─ I think Ruby's Drive-In may have been on the King George somewhere above the steep part of the hill leading to Whalley ─ I had to seek the bushes for a bowel movement.

I am unsure now if the old supermarket chain was accurately called Hi-Low or not, but I believe that it was located in Whalley's Dell Shopping Centre.  However, I can't imagine why I was passing it by ─ it was some ways off the highway.  

Perhaps the bench the older fellow was at was actually situated on the King George Highway, and I just mentioned it being in front of Hi-Low so as to better clarify where along the highway this incident took place.

If that is so, I should have just said that the bench was in front of the Dell Shopping Centre.  He was most likely waiting for a bus.

Anyway, I continued along until I reached 88th Avenue (Kennedy Road), and then from there I jogged the remainder of the way to Newton.

The mail at my mother's home included a "La Cotta cooking implement" that was some sort of skillet I had bought as a present for my brother Mark's girlfriend's upcoming birthday; and the stamps were a pane of 50 commemorative Christmas stamps from the Canadian post office.

The reason I had brought my jacket in anticipation of "a glut" was that I could overeat hugely; I wanted it to wear so that my distended abdomen would not be obvious on my walk straight back to New Westminster later that afternoon.

I took the very long route to get to my mother's home, but I came directly back to my room ─ that hike only took about 1½ hours at a fast walk.  Had I not jogged in the morning on my way to Newton, the long route to get to her home was easily a three-hour trek.
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