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Monday, January 2, 2017

Excess Urinary Protein and Increased Dementia Risk │ Alzheimer's Patients and Increased Death Risk from Antipsychotic Medication │ Sunlight's Enhancement of T Cell Activity

Just before I was ready to publish yesterday's post ─ it may not yet have been 6:00 p.m. ─ my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Bev arrived home.  She was to be spending a second consecutive evening and night here.

I didn't want to take the time to mention the arrival in yesterday's post ─ I was in too great a haste to get it published and out of the way.

I settled in with them to watch an evening of Android Box TV while we all enjoyed some drinks, but it almost came to ruin for me when Mark offered that Bev be allowed to watch the 2007 movie The Bind Side.  She is a big football fan, and claimed never to have seen the movie before.

Mark has seen it, and I have had it on T.V. a couple of times in the past.

I tuned it in for them, and then came upstairs feeling rather miffed.  I certainly had not anticipated having to sit up for a couple hours re-watching this movie.

I did a couple of things while I pondered what to do.  I was inclining to perhaps just drinking the three cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer I had planned on drinking, and then getting to bed early.

And so it was that I returned downstairs and proceeded to drink the first can of beer...and was soon charmed back into the movie.  I watched it all with them.

By then it was just after 11:00 p.m., and Mark suggested tuning in Django Unchained, so I located the feed for it ─ and pointed out to Mark how long it was.  The movie was listed at two hours and 45 minutes ─ we did not want to be sitting up that late.

So I searched for another Western, and came up with In a Valley of Violence.  It was an hour shorter than Django Unchained, so we settled on this unknown feature.

It wasn't too bad.

As I recall, my bedtime last night was 1:41 a.m.

After my first good block of sleep, I had a dream-riddled stretch of intermittent sleep.  I think I may have even had a bit of dream that was inspired by actress Taissa Farmiga and her scenario from the Western I had watched.  In the movie, she was only supposed to be 16 years old, but angling to be the love interest of mid-40s actor Ethan Hawke's character.

I just don't recall any details now of the dream ─ just that someone very much like her movie character was becoming closely involved with me.

Or maybe I'm dreaming that I dreamed this.  Who knows?

Anyway, it was after 9:00 a.m. when I finally rose for the day; Mark and Bev were quite some while in getting up after me.

Evidently both my youngest step-son Poté and his girlfriend had to work this morning, for both were gone.  Eldest step-son Tho hadn't been around since Saturday ─ he headed off to stay with his girlfriend, and only came home late in the noon-hour today.

I put in some work on an edit of an old post at one of my six hosted websites over the morning, and then joined Mark and Bev in watching a movie they had tuned in on regular T.V.'s Bravo station.

But first I fixed myself up a big, hot, spiked coffee beverage.

By the time the movie ended, I was quite feeling that drink.  It would have been nice to have spent the afternoon drinking and watching T.V. with Mark and Ben, but by about 1:15 p.m. they had gone.

It's possible that she may even have needed to go to work ─ she is employed in a bar that Mark frequents.

Whatever the case, he will be returning alone this evening.  The Christmas/New Year's Season has officially ended for us, alas.

The day seemed to be just about flawlessly sunny, and it seemed so brilliant out there with the white snow thick everywhere.  I think we have had some snow on the ground ever since the first light blanketing back on December 5 ─ I took photos of it that morning before it was yet 8:00 a.m.

And there is no sign that the stuff we presently have is going to be melting anytime soon ─ this is one of the earliest and longest runs of snow-ridden days that I can recall in these parts in many recent years.

My wife Jack said via texting early Saturday afternoon that she might be around from Vancouver sometime today, so soon after Mark and Bev left, I went out to the backyard shed for some exercising.  It was remarkably warm standing in the sunshine pouring in through the shed's opened doorway, but any shade is distinctly chilling.

I am not at all looking forward to any hikes to replenish my dwindling beer supply.

Here now are a few more photos taken back on (I think) October 30, 2016, when my wife Jack was in Thailand to visit her mother and other family members.

They had an opportunity to visit the Ayutthaya ruins that day ─ Jack had never before been there.

In the first photo, Jack's sister Penn is looking back at us, while their mother is beyond, using a cane:

And now Penn has caught up to their mother and walking with her:

I will just add two photos taken of the ruins before I move on to other topics:


I read just today that folks who have high levels of protein in their urine (albuminuria or proteinuria) have a 35% greater chance of developing mental impairment than do people with normal urinary protein levels ─ this is according to a recently published study, as these two reports tell:



Well, I don't have a family physician ─  how am I ever supposed to know if I have high urinary protein levels?

There seems no end to the tests we can be taking for any and all potential pathological indicators.

But if you do have a physician and have regular medical examinations, this condition is something you need to keep in mind.


There is a rather disturbing finding in a study of many thousands of Alzheimer's disease patients ─ this should concern anyone with a loved one who has the condition.

If the patient is being administered any antipsychotic medications, then the patient's risk of death dramatically escalates ─ this report tells of the study:


Jack Harrison also spoke of the study, and offered some excellent advice:


I pray I never have a family member I love descend into any sort of debilitating dementia.


It has been found that sunlight is able to stimulate our T cells ─ a specialized white blood cell heavily involved in keeping our immune systems strong.

These reports tell of the study:




Information such as that makes me all the more wish that I was not a prisoner of debt essentially confined to this house that I am heavily mortgaged into.

If circumstances and debt had not overtaken me as they have, I would probably today be spending the bulk of each year living in Thailand.


I close out today's post now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the small unit in a house located on Ninth Street, one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

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

At that time, S.A.N.E. was housed in a building on Carnarvon Street, pretty much right where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now opens up onto that street.

I was a little concerned about returning to work as a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck because I had hurt a foot nearly two weeks earlier while running hard for several miles on city streets while I was wearing boots.  It felt as if a small bone in that foot had dislocated or maybe even broken.

On New Year's Day ─ the evening prior to this particular journal entry ─ I had gotten to bed at 8:00 p.m.
FRIDAY, January 2, 1976

I could have slept further, but got up about 4:15 a.m., not feeling too bad.

It was this morning I caught up with my record of the past couple days.

I last night mailed Terri's letter on the way to Bill's mother's place.

Between my bad foot, very sore lower back (probably a result of dancing), and general run-down condition, I certainly am not happy about having to show up at S.A.N.E.

I paid my rent last night as Bill & I left for supper.

On my way to the bank this cold, sunless day at Ash & Queen's I encountered Wendy & Shirley exiting the apartment building there; Marvin apparently lives there, and Nell was inside.

At the bank I bought 2 money orders ($13 and $10), then headed for S.A.N.E.

Our morning duty after bringing some objects upstairs was to move a woman from 527 Ash to 711 Walmsley, a light single load.

Then Esther drove me home for lunch.

My partner, by the way, was Gordie.

After lunch we took a load of beds to the huge building just below Georgina's old place (apt. 404, I think).

And that, I believe, marked the end of our day.

During the lull I bought some groceries at Safeway ($5.79 total).  When I returned, Verna discharged me; it was about 4:15 p.m.  She requested I deliver the incentive forms to the welfare office.  By now, the snow that began falling during lunch appeared not only to have finished for good, but to be melting away.

As I exited the welfare building and proceeded to cross the street, I was hailed from behind.  'Twas Art afoot.  He was supposedly heading up 6th to pay a bill.

He never let me get past the Towers.

I explained about supper with Bill, but he just kept buying.  I blew my final $2.  I got two busy signals trying to phone Bill, then only unanswered rings.

Art called Angie; she told him Bill had been there searching for me.

It was about 9:00 p.m. when Art & I left; we parted at Queen's & 9th, me lying I'd visit if I missed Bill's supper.

Bill showed toward 9:30 p.m., already fed.  He said dinner was on for tomorrow, but I told him I refused to go and have to confront his mother.

I gave him a small dish of yogurt, cottage cheese, flax, sunflower and sesame seeds, coconut, and honey mixed, a trial dessert he enjoyed.

I was really feeling my beer, and was even occasionally swimming.

I retired 10:00 p.m. or so.
Apparently I spent that morning catching up on a few missed journal entries, for I had spent the night of New Year's Eve at the home of my maternal Aunt Nell Halverson out in Surrey ─ she was possibly living on 64th Avenue, very near to Newton Junior High School.

The early evening prior to this journal entry, I had enjoyed a turkey feast at the home of Anne Gregory, the mother of my old friend William Alan Gill.  I had mailed a letter to an American pen-pal I had back then ─ Terri Martin ─ while Bill drove us to his mother's home.

Bill was renting a bachelor suite perhaps four or so blocks from my room, but his mother lived in a rented house out in Maillardville, I believe.

Her meal was based around a 13-pound turkey that had been given Bill for buying a brand new car.  Thus, with just the three of us eating, there was so much remaining that Bill and I were expected back this evening, as well.

On my way to buy the two money orders at a bank, it was my teen cousin Wendy Halverson (my Aunt Nell's daughter) and Wendy's friend Shirley Montroy that I encountered.  Marvin was some friend of their family's, and I reckon Nell was paying a visit.

As for my day at S.A.N.E., Esther St. Jean was usually the truck driver.  She was a truly good woman in her early 40s.  I think Gordie may have been a somewhat mentally challenged young fellow given to outrageous boastings.

I often ate lunch back at my room, so Esther must have given me a ride home at lunch on this day, saving me the walk.

Verna (Williams?) may have been the manager at S.A.N.E. ─ she seemed to run the place, at any rate.

I now have no idea where Georgina Junglas's old residence was ─ the locale of a stop we made in the S.A.N.E. truck after lunch.  Georgina was also a part-time S.A.N.E. employee ─ an extremely attractive woman of roughly my age with whom I had blown an opportunity to become involved.  I was just too lacking in confidence.

Many of S.A.N.E.'s employees were working there part-time as I was.  It was done via an employment incentives programme in place between S.A.N.E. and New Westminster social services.  Essentially, social services would pay us the going social assistance rate, plus we would receive a stipend for our work at S.A.N.E.

But we had to submit paperwork to social assistance to continue to remain in the programme ─ I suppose S.A.N.E. would vouch that each one of us had put in the requisite time working.

After I took over those incentive forms to the social services offices, I had the misfortune to cross paths with Art Smith ─ a chap in his early 40s whom I had previously worked with at S.A.N.E.    .

We had grown close, but Art had become too demanding of my time, always trying to get me to his home to spend late, late hours as his drinking companion.  I had begun trying to avoid him.

On this day, he was supposedly on his way to pay a bill farther up Sixth Street ─ the social services offices were on Sixth Street, a short ways up from Columbia Street.  He knew that I would be heading up Sixth Street to get back to my room, so he may have been telling me a tale about the bill he was out to pay.

It is perfectly possible that he only wanted to get me as far as the Royal Towers Hotel (which today is an apartment building), and willfully strong-arm me into going in to the beer parlour with him for a beer or two.

But once he had me there, he would not easily allow me to be on my way ─ he was excruciatingly needy of my companionship for someone who had a wife at home, and three kids.

So he had his way, while poor Bill did his best to find me.  Bill had even gone to Art's home and spoken with Art's wife Angie (Angelina).

Incidents like this one only made me more determined to avoid Art.  It cost me a wonderful second consecutive turkey supper ─ I certainly would not be feeding myself that well back at my room.

However, I was at least creating my own homemade granola ─ I let Bill try some, and he reportedly enjoyed it.
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