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Monday, October 10, 2016

Knee-Pain Sufferers More Likely to Develop Pain in Other Joints │ Acetaminophen ─ Never Give It to Children │ Lower Vitamin D Levels = Increased Mortality

As I reported yesterday, something went amiss with our D-Link router, and there seemed to only be one port functioning ─ I was able to get my computer's Internet access established, but my youngest step-son Pote could not do the same for his machine.

I had earlier failed when he was not yet home. The router is in my step-sons' den area.

What I did not realize as I watched T.V. last evening with my younger brother Mark was that the young prick (Pote) was continuing to meddle with the router and must have been experimenting with my computer's port.

After I was done with T.V. for the night, I came upstairs to use my computer, and discovered that I again had no Internet access.

And I could not play around with the router because Pote's bed is in the den area immediately adjacent to the desk where his computer ─ and the router ─ are.

And of course, he was sleeping with his girlfriend.

After some alcohol-fueled cursing, all I could do was go to bed.

This morning I was ready to rise at 7:02 a.m. ─ until I remembered that my computer probably had no Internet, and I would be unable to do the work on one of my websites that I normally do each morning.

I would have been able to finish and publish the post I have been working on since Friday at my Latin Impressions website.

So I tried for more sleep.

I managed to relax, but by 7:28 a.m. it was clear that I was wasting my time lying there in bed, and thus I rose.

Pote and his girlfriend are still in bed as I type this at 8:00 a.m. into an OpenOffice document. I can do no work on my computer. And the two in bed are not early risers if neither of them has to work ─ which I fear may be the case today. They might not rise till 11:00 a.m. or later.

My window of opportunity for website work will be lost for today, for I don't even know if I would be able to resurrect an Internet connection on the router if I do get access to it..

I seem to recall that there might be another router stashed away somewhere, but it will be in the region of the boys' den area, or in a storage room accessed immediately beside Pote's bed via a heavy and noisy sliding glass door ─ and so I won't be able to search for the possible second router at all this morning to see if I would be able to locate it.

It may not even exist ─ I am thinking back to about seven years ago.

My step-sons can be such bloody nuisances. But at least the older lad Tho has been sleeping a his girlfriend's home since Friday and only appeared for awhile early last afternoon to have a shower and a change of clothes.


After typing the above, I returned to bed a bit past 10:00 a.m. to seek more rest or even some extra sleep ─ I hoped to get out to do some shopping.

I was probably in bed for around an hour, and did have a dream, so sleep must have visited me.

But I had also heard someone showering during my down-time.

When I got up and came downstairs, Pote and his girlfriend were gone.  It was a good sign that he had likely gone to work.

I got my chance to disconnect the Internet cable downstairs, and pulled the power plugs to both the router and the modem.

When I reconnected the Internet cable and powered up the router and the modem, and came here upstairs to my computer, all was well again.

But I have no idea if it did the trick for the boys' computer ─ they each have their own password, and I know neither.  In other words, I cannot check to see if their Internet was restored.

Yesterday my younger brother Mark came home with an Android TV Box, and even bought a 50-foot cable to connect it to the router.  The next smallest-sized cable was 25 feet, and our T.V. in the living room is probably farther away than that from the router.

Anyway, we couldn't get our T.V. to  indicate that the Android TV Box was even connected ─ the screen showed nothing.

Early this afternoon he got the brainstorm that we ought to try the T.V.'s settings button.  And sure enough, it had an option for HTML-1 and HTML-2 ─ he had the Android TV Box connected to the former.

Now we are able to see the various functions and options of the device.  However, it isn't connected to the Internet ─ I don't want to mess with the router until I know that the other ports work, and not just the one my computer is connected to.

But I won't know until Pote or his older brother Tho comes home and logs into their computer to access the Web.

If theirs is also back online, then the router is probably okay and I will risk experimenting.  We had tried accessing a couple of movies just to see if maybe the Wi-Fi would be good enough, but each time a message appeared that the stream was not found.
I am presuming that the reason it is not found is because the Android TV Box did not have Internet access.

Mark took off around 1:30 p.m. to hook up with his girlfriend Bev, and I was home alone to ready for that shopping expedition.

I was interrupted by a call from my wife Jack ─ she said that she would be home this evening, but she wanted me to do an international money transfer using an account that we used once before.  It's with a bank that we have a joint account with, but I never use it.

Fortunately, we had saved the destination information, so all I had to do was select the amount to be transferred from the account to her account in Thailand.

She wanted me to transfer $1,200 ─ I didn't even know she had that much money in the account.

To elucidate a little further concerning this, she has a flight booked to Thailand later this month so that she can visit her mother and other family members in Nong Soong, which is near to Udon Thani (city).  She figures that accessing the money from her own account at a bank in Udon Thani would be far better than using an ATM card.

I never thought to see if the transfer could have been done as Thai baht ─ I did the transfer as U.S. funds, so the net result is well below $900 in that currency.  I will have to let her know about this when she gets home.

I could have skipped the shopping expedition, but I had a Rogers Wireless payment to mail off, and it is due October 18.  Yes, one might think that there is not all that much urgency, but last month I mailed it away with about four days of grace, yet the buggers hit me up with a late payment charge.

Consequently, I left here at 1:57 p.m. and hiked the mile or better to Surrey Place (Central City) and mailed the payment at the 'post office' (viz., Pearl Photo, formerly Pearl Cleaners).

From there, I continued on the quarter-mile or so to Save-On-Foods there in Whalley and did my shopping.

It is presently 4:27 p.m., and I am still the only person home.

The afternoon became rather sunny ─ it would have been nice to have been able to sit outside to bask in the sunshine.

I might as well post a photo of my wife Jack ─ I took it at the rear left corner of our home in the afternoon of September 8.  That corner is barely visible at the lower right border of the photo ─ a neighbour's home is on the other side of that fence:


There is a recent study of (I believe) 3,486 people aged 45 - 79 which has found that those who suffer from knee pain are more likely to start suffering pain in other body joints.

In these cases, the knee pain was from osteoarthritis, from what I understand.

The consensus seems to be that the likely cause for the pain in other joints is due to changes in the pain-sufferers gaits; these abnormal changes in how folks are walking place unnatural stress upon those other body joints.

If you care to read any reports about the study, you might try the following two:



That second report is rather a steep read, but neither report offers any helpful suggestions about how to potentially treat one's condition.

For that, perhaps try this report:

I would love to be able to afford to treat my own knees for the damaged cartilage that I have incurred over the years that I was a determined runner, but my 67th birthday is tomorrow, and it's unlikely that I am going to strike it rich before I call it quits and cash it in.


As far as I am concerned, acetaminophen is a terrible drug, and should not be available without prescription.

And even then, people should not be taking it unless absolutely necessary ─ and with a full understanding of the potential side-effects.  Even the rare ones.

To add to acetaminophen's bad reputation, a study has found an association between this drug, and hyperactivity in children when pregnant mothers took the medication.


One journalist put in a shameful effort at minimizing the threat:

But let's check out what a couple of actual physicians have to say about acetaminophen:


I stay clear of the stuff.  I sure cannot understand why a parent ─ let alone a physician ─ would casually administer it to a child.


Let's cap off this section with a couple of reports on a study that discovered that the lower one's levels of vitamin D were, the greater the risk of death.

Here are a couple of reports on the study:


That second report links to four others beneath it.

I have increased my vitamin D3 supplementation to 4,000 I.U.s per day now that I am unlikely to be able to bask in the sunshine any longer this year.


It is time for me to close off with this 41-year-old journal entry from back when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the tiny unit in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

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

I worked as a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck.  Esther St. Jean ─ a dear woman in her early 40s ─ usually drove the truck.

In 1975, S.A.N.E. was housed in a building that used to be located on Carnarvon Street right about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now stretches out onto that same street.
FRIDAY, October 10, 1975

I got up around 5:10 a.m.

Esther was busy most of the morning running favours; Myrna got herself hospitalized after getting shoved by a waiter last night; a broken arm and maybe some fingers.  

Bill & I did little this period. 

David came in and expressed a wish to see me tonight.  

Not long after he left, Bill & I broke for lunch; I ate a pound of Granola, plus milk, of course.

It seems Safeway has finally opened, the food strike ending.

Coming home for lunch, I found a note from dad at my door; he would like to see me Wednesday.

Back at the job, a little work was done, but nothing unbearable.

I got a ride home, arriving about 4:15 p.m.

I typed Jean a letter; I'll mail it on my way to Bill's, as last night I said I'd try and make it over.  It is 7:00 p.m. now, and David said he's visit then, so I had better vamoose.

Bill wasn't home, so I came straight back.

Poor David came about 7:30 p.m., to no avail.

Bed at 9:00 p.m.
Myrna was a part-timer at S.A.N.E. ─ a very nice Indigenous Canadian.  I don't recall this bad incident happening to her.

My co-swamper was an older fellow named Bill Sevenko, but I just cannot remember him anymore.

Philip David Prince was an old friend of mine who lived a few blocks from me in his own room.  I just about always tried to avoid his visits because it seemed like he would never leave, and I always had things that I wanted to be doing.

My busy schedule was also why I seldom visited him ─ he was hard to get away from.  I suppose that he was actually very lonely, but I did not appreciate this truth back then.

This statement of Safeway having been shut down due to a strike is the first time my journal mentioned it.

My father Hector lived off in Burnaby, and would have had to bus or take a taxi to get into New Westminster.  He must have forgotten that I worked on Fridays.

The letter I typed back in my room was to Jean M. Martin, an American pen-pal I had.

My old friend William Alan Gill lived quite near in a bachelor suite he was renting.  I didn't mind visiting him ─ he was not generally as clingy as poor David was.  And Bill was just about always sensible.  David could be overbearing and quite unpalatable.

I expect that I was home when David came knocking at 7:30 p.m., but I would have feigned being away.  I would not have wanted him occupying me for the evening, particularly if I wanted to watch a little television and get to bed early.

I do miss the unfortunate fellow in my old age now, however.  He died too young.  Old friends are precious and rare.

Well, it is 6:34 p.m. at this moment, and I am still home alone!
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