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Friday, January 27, 2017

Asthma Is Commonly Misdiagnosed │ The Importance of Tonsils │ Pharmaceutical Industry Research: Typically Biased

My younger brother Mark was decent company last evening ─ nothing like the evening before. And I think I was in bed well before 11:30 p.m.

But for the fourth straight night I seemed to have my sleep broken early, and thereafter remain difficult to embrace. In fact for three consecutive nights, I believe that my first block of sleep was less than two hours ─ I usually get three or even four hours.

This morning, I was wide awake before 6:00 a.m., and gave it up around 6:30 a.m., rising for the day.

My youngest step-son Poté went to work early ─ he left before 7:30 a.m. ─ but his older brother Tho never went to work, and remained in bed until into the noon-hour even though he retired early last evening.

Granted, he does have a bad cold, and keeps coughing.  However, he surely cannot still be taking time off work for a mere cold! He took off Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of last week, and had the weekend to help recover.

Yet he still took off this past Monday, and I think he missed the first half of Tuesday.

This is a bit much, I think.

He got paid today, and I noticed that he only received something over $530 for two weeks. As I understand it, he does not receive Sick Pay; if he does not work, he gets no pay. Similarly, he does not get paid Vacation Leave. Instead, he receives a small percentage ─ maybe 4%? ─ added onto his wages in lieu of getting any paid time off for statutory holidays.

So if he's just being a pussy, there's a cash penalty for it, as he will discover.

He is fairly early into a one-year driving suspension, but Poté had been using Tho's car. However, this week it has remained parked in the open carport. Has Tho maybe decided to let its insurance lapse? He will at least be saving some money, if so.

I put in quite a lot of work adding content to the new post I started on Tuesday at my Lawless Spirit website. By 11:00 a.m., my eyes were rolling a little from drowsiness ─ I felt ready for a good nap. But I wanted to have some breakfast first.

Before I could allow myself to eat, though, I felt that I had to undertake some exercise out in the backyard shed even if I did not feel at all like it.  

The day was overcast, and dank and rather chilly. Nevertheless, I did what I went out to the shed to do.

I never did nap. I lied down before commencing this post, but to properly nap I need to don earplugs as well as a blindfold. My bedroom window is open fairly wide, so I hear all the outside cul-de-sac noises. Also, Poté got back home in the course of that lie-down.

In Wednesday's post this week, I mentioned finding what I thought was a dead wasp perhaps lying on its back under the small wooden stand of a potted plant in our living room.

I nearly risked picking it up by hand to put into one of the potted plants for fertilization purposes, but thought better of it and used a piece of dead leaf to try and scoop it up. I did a shoddy job of getting the leaf under the wasp; but as I raised the leaf, I saw that the 'foot' of one of the wasp's legs seemed to have attached itself to the leaf and thus the wasp was being elevated.

I could see then that ─ ever so lethargically ─ the wasp was moving.

So I got a small jar, mostly filled it with two dead maple leaves that I pulled into pieces, and the wasp is presently situated in there awaiting warmer weather. I have a big drop of honey on the topmost bit of leaf, but the wasp is lower down and mostly dormant ─ it has yet to notice the honey.

I looked in on it today ─ I keep the jar on the window sill of that open bedroom window so that the insect keeps chilled; I noticed a leg or two slowly move where it has taken up its wait, so I suppose all is well.

There is nourishment if the wasp revives enough to do any exploring. But meantime, I expect that it is essentially hibernating. There is no sense keeping the wasp in the warmth of the house. After all, I plan on releasing it when the days are warmer, so reviving it now would be stupid and of no purpose.

For anyone who does not realize, although wasps kill insects and will even attack raw ground beef or steak, this is not for themselves ─ they do not eat. Only their young do. Adult wasps suck nectar from plants for nourishment, and that is why they can so easily be tricked into drowning in something like a soda can. Sweet soda would be an irresistible lure for a hungry wasp.

Yes, they definitely have a nasty bite! But they do not have the ability to swallow anything other than something like flower nectar. Their jaws are for work and protection only.

I have been patiently awaiting the arrival of my monthly pension, and I had concluded that it would likely not show up until next Tuesday ─ I have been unable to do any shopping since maybe Monday of last week.

Well, a midday online check of my account revealed that the deposit has finally taken place, but it is too late in the day for me to get out and do anything. I have to be geared up for any shopping expeditions, and I have been resigned to staying shut in for too many days now.

I will require a fair bit of sprucing up ─ I do not believe that I have shaved as yet this year, so I am starting to look rather unkempt.

Some more photos now of some sort of garden in Thailand.

My wife Jack had charged the fare for a round-trip flight last Fall to return to her family home in the large village of Nong Soong, which is maybe a 15-minute drive from Udon Thani. Jack had not seen her mother in person for well over 3½ years.

Anyway, on what I think was November 3, Jack had paid a visit to some sort of large garden area ─ I posted numerous photos of it yesterday. I will now try to post the many that remain. I can only suppose that the setting may be in or near Nong Soong; but if not, then certainly somewhere around Udon Thani.

Jack taking a couple of selfies:

Jack even took this photo of a beautiful flower peddler:

Three shots of Jack striking a lovely pose:

And that was the last of those!


Do you or anyone you care about have asthma?

If so...is it possible that you do NOT have the condition?

Have a look at these reports on a recently published study:





I am unaffected by the study, but I wonder how many people I have known who claimed to have asthma might have actually been victims of a faulty diagnosis?


My younger brother Mark and I both had our tonsils removed when we were young kids ─ I am unsure of the state of our adenoids.

But were the tonsillectomies justified, I wonder? This has long been a question for me.

And articles like the following keep me wondering:


Perhaps many of the colds that Mark and I regularly suffered might never have taken hold had we not had those surgeries, but I can never know.


A study has been published concerning the unreliability of research when the sponsors of the research are the Pharmaceutical Industry ─ the study is actually grabbing quite a lot of attention.

Here are a couple of reports about it:



If a pharmaceutical company is backing the study, I think that it's pretty much a foregone conclusion that the medication will turn out to be of more benefit than risk ─ even though that is likely not so.

As that latter report declares, taking as few prescriptions as possible is the only way to protect yourself and your loved ones from the Pharmaceutical Industry's relentless determination to get rich at any health cost whatsoever to the consumer.


And now comes time for me to close with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house I was renting the small affair in was located on Ninth Street, and perhaps one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

This was to be one of those days in which I hiked out to the home of my mother Irene Dorosh who was living in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey. That little house that she shared with her husband Alex no longer exists, but is address was 12106 - 90th Avenue. It was my main mailing address.

To hike there from my room would take about 1½ hours of rather fast walking.
TUESDAY, January 27, 1976

I got up about 5:00 a.m., and sure need more sleep.

About 7:15 a.m. I left for mom's.

Mail awaiting included, of course, my Olympic Lottery ticket, plus one for the Western, and William Hope Hodgson's Out of the Storm; in today's mail came a second identical offer for the muscle building system experiment at $5, along with an ad for a series of Canadian wildlife books

I ate enormously.

My complexion kept me from shopping.

After checking by phone, about 12:45 p.m. Mark & Cathy came over and stayed till 2:30 p.m.; we partook of a small sampling of some moose stew mom had left over.

I didn't head home till both Sherry & Alex were there; night doesn't arrive as early anymore.

I found a nickle,

I did not come directly home, but went to Bill's to see Barney Miller, after which I hurried off to the library and borrowed My Life with the Eskimo by Vilhjálmur Stefánsson, and Human Anatomy Made Simple by I. MacKay Murray. 

Bill gave me, after I returned, a tin of kippered herring.

I wanted to go home at 10:00 p.m., but he was possessed of a passion to go out for some beer; we walked to the Towers and had 3 apiece, he buying.

I walked him as far as Wong's before heading straight home and penning all this.

Bed about 11:30 p.m.!
I believe that I still have that William Hope Hodgson book ─ I will have to look for it and scan its covers as proof.

"The muscle building system experiment" was a come-on to get people to chip in $5 for a workout schedule. Supposedly it was some kind of trial, and participants were expected to pay the $5 to participate.

Well, not me.

It was my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther who dropped by my mother's home for about two hours.

I guess if my complexion was concerning me, I was loath to head for home while it was still daylight, so I hung around until it was darkening. Sherry is my older maternal half-sister Phyllis's daughter, and back then she was practically staying there because Phyllis was rather 'footloose.'

My old friend William Alan Gill only lived about four or so blocks from my room. I must have stopped in to watch some colour T.V., and then got the notion to hit the library up on Sixth Avenue.

The Royal Towers Hotel is now an apartment building. Its beer parlour was the first one I ever visited ─ that was back in 1970; so I had some fondness for the place. Bill must only have been a couple or so blocks uphill from there.

Wong's family-owned little store doubtless no longer exists, but it was just a couple or so blocks directly uphill, too.

Those were such formative years for me. It is unfortunate that I did not have the advantages necessary to get ahead in life.
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