.dropcap {float:left; color:#4791d2; font-size:75px; line-height:60px; padding-top:4px; padding-right:8px; padding-left:3px; font-family:Georgia}

Google+ Followers


Friday, January 6, 2017

U.S. Skin Cancer Rates Increasing │ Study: Insufficient Evidence Fluoridated Water Reduces Cavities │ Study Finds Caregiving Seems to Bestow Longevity to the Caregiver

After my younger brother Mark got home last evening soon after 8:30 p.m., he fussed and farted about doing one thing or another, and even engaged my eldest step-son Tho in some conversation in the kitchen while they both were doing a little simultaneous cooking.

Meantime, younger step-son Poté had arrived home with his girlfriend.

I must have been about 75% through the latest episode of Blindspot when Mark finally brought his mug of beer into the living room and sat into his chair.

And immediately he started going on and on about the mess the young people leave on the kitchen counter ─ dirty pots, plates, bowls, utensils ─ it's his repeated refrain that is so damned tiresome.

And especially so when I am immersed into a television programme ─ I am not sitting there to be a sounding board for his nagging and bitching.  I have my own enormous peeves over those same youngsters, and I nurse those peeves almost the day through ─ I need this short time in the evening to release myself into some television.

I finally had to wave my hand in exasperation in the air, and ─ doing my best to sound light, and not heated as I was feeling ─ I semi-laughed and said something like, "That's all very nice to hear, but I want to watch this."

By then Poté and his girlfriend were in the kitchen, perhaps cooking something.

So he rose and went in after them, leading off with something like, "I don't want to keep sounding like the heavy, but...."

I hope at least that he made enough of an impression this time to have some lasting impact.  But if he was too easygoing, then it won't much have mattered.

It's not just that they pile up the dirty dishes, but they even have some of them partly filled with water.

They do all this because some months back Mark erected a big sign on a kitchen cupboard door declaring that he was fed up finding the sink full of dirty dishes each morning when he comes downstairs to start making his lunch for his workday ─ he likes to wash some fresh vegetables to take along.

Apparently they have come to think that the workaround is to pile everything up onto the counter ─ they even take the pots and other dishes out of the sink (that they allowed to collect there over the day), and pile them up all over the counter.

This is how so many of these dishes have water in them.

But I am getting myself worked up narrating all of this, so I am going to drop the topic.

Mark offered that he would be bringing his girlfriend Bev home with him Saturday evening to spend the night.  He normally stays at her home Saturday nights, but he explained that there seems little heating there...and she does not have her television set hooked up to cable.

I think that he said that they usually just listen to talk radio.

If he does show up with her on Saturday, that could be a welcome break from just sitting by myself all evening in the living room enjoying my drinks and programming.

Anyway, I now forget when it was that I was in bed last night, but I think that it was before 11:00 p.m.

My morning commenced a few minutes after I checked the time at 7:02 a.m.  It took me those few minutes to conclude that I would be unlikely to sleep any further if I attempted it, and so I rose.

And for the second consecutive morning, I found myself alone in the house.  Also ─ just like last morning ─ the front door was not locked.

Whichever of my two step-sons is the last one out the door lacks the courtesy and good sense to lock the door after him.  After all, it is hardly as if I am on sentry duty in my bed ─ I sleep with earplugs and a blindfold, for Pete's sake!

Like I said earlier, I have so much that irks me relating to the brothers, as well as the youngest one's omnipresent girlfriend, I bloody well do not need to have my brother Mark harping on and on about them in the evening when I am trying to enjoy the only couple or so hours I have of escapism in my day.

I continued the edit work I began on Monday of an old post at my Siam-Longings website, but I wanted to try and make a beer hike to the government liquor store roughly two miles away at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard here in Whalley.

Despite posting here yesterday that I was second-thinking such a venture, my resolution rallied and I had determined that I had to try.  There is no knowing just how long our snow and ice will be around.

I also had Mark's monthly expenses reconciliation cheque to deposit ─ $146.02 ─ at an ATM at the  Coast Capital Savings building over by the King George SkyTrain Station.  That's about a mile away, so roughly half-way to the liquor store.

So after doing what post edit work I hard targeted for myself, I then needed to lie down for a time and rest my eyes and aching butt and back.  My computer chair is a hard metal office-type swivel chair; and the cheap computer desk I have is more fitting for a child, since the keyboard is down at my knees ─ I constantly work hunched over, unless I feel the need to slouch down with my legs extended out to one side of the desk to give my butt and back some relief.

The bed-rest almost resulted in a nap, so I had to pull myself out of it.

By the time I was ready and had set off, it was 11:50 a.m.

I got the whole chore accomplished, and had my two dozen cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer back here by 1:31 p.m.

There is no brilliant sunshine today.  In fact, occasionally I would see a tiny snowflake falling.

My wife Jack had said that she would next be around from Vancouver on Sunday, but she phoned me at 3:50 p.m. this afternoon to request me to bring a couple packages of meat out of the fridge icebox and leave them in cold water in the kitchen sink.

She clearly plans to come home today to do some cooking.  Had I suspected this, I would have gotten an earlier start on this post ─ except that after I had a substantial meal after getting home from my hike, I started to crash and needed to return to bed for a half-hour or so.

It couldn't be helped.

I sure felt the strain of toting that beer back home ─ a dozen cans each in a separate carry bag.  The top and back of my shoulders are still feeling it ─ the trapezius area.


A report came out just a few weeks back indicating that skin cancer rates in the U.S. are rising:




The blaming fingers point to too much UV exposure and to tanning beds, but no one bothers suggesting that many sunscreens may bring on trouble, too.

We need exposure to the Sun ─ it yields the best kind of vitamin D, and sunlight also activates our T cells to enhance our immunity.  It even generates valuable nitric oxide (not nitrous oxide) within our bodies.

We need unobstructed sunshine on our skin ─ we just have to avoid being exposed long enough to get sunburned.


I am staunchly against water fluoridation, so the following article was nothing I disagreed with:


However, the statement that a "new analysis looked at 30 reviews of the evidence on fluoridated water published since 2002 and found absolutely nothing to back the practice" admittedly stretched the truth somewhat.

This is how that study actually concluded:
Prevention treatments may have a relevant impact on the avoiding the development of caries. On the basis of this large review, a greater diffusion of preventive interventions could reduce the incidence of caries at an affordable cost. Topical application of fluoride gel and fluoride supplements appear convenient and inexpensive tools to reduce dental caries. Likely, also pit and fissure sealants and fluoridate varnishes appear to effectively reduce the risk of caries. 
Food fluoridation, fluoridated milk and fluoridated water do not seem, based on the existing literature, to hold sufficient evidence for the reduction of dental caries. 
It was hardly a battle cry against the use of fluoride.

Still, it did determine that there was not sufficient evidence for the employment of fluoridated water to prevent cavities.

I had a devil of a time locating that report.  I have to thank News-Medical.net for at least indicating the month that the report was published in the Journal of Clinical and Experimental Dentistry ─ the month was mentioned in the article Many researchers report lack of evidence for caries-preventive effect of water fluoridation.


A very interesting study has found that people who help others ─ well, the main part of the study title says it all:  Caregiving within and beyond the family is associated with lower mortality for the caregiver: A propsective study.

Whether a person cares for a family member, or for someone outside of the family, the action seems to enhance well-being and even longevity in the person doing the caregiving.

Here is a report on the study:


Today's blog is running me overtime, so I will save comment and just offer this excellent analysis that actually opens up the study topic even further than did the Time.com article:



Poté and his girlfriend showed up around 5:30 p.m., and an hour or so later he queried of me whether I wished a dish of the supper they were preparing.

It was then that I let him know that his mother was supposed to be coming home to cook.

At that, he gave her a call ─ for it was news to him.

It turns out that Jack is working this evening, and will not be around until after 10:00 p.m.  Consequently, I have a little time to complete today's blog post.

Right now I want to add a few more photos from Jack's trip back to Thailand this past Fall to visit her mother and other family after more than 3½ years.  They live in a village called Nong Soong, maybe a 15-minute drive from Udon Thani.

They had an opportunity to visit the Ayutthaya ruins ─ Jack had never before been there ─ so they took advantage of a free train trip to Bangkok.

I believe that these specific shots were taken on October 30 (2016) in the Wat Mahathat area.

This is Jack in the first three photos:

Jack is also in this photo with her nephew Daniel, but I am unable to identify the lass in the white top:

And Jack once more:

Closing out today's post is 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 it in a house located on Ninth Street, perhaps one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

I had gone to bed at 8:30 p.m. the evening prior to this entry.
TUESDAY, January 6, 1975

I had extreme difficulty getting asleep, and was up well before 4:00 a.m.; it was the fault of the enormous mass of food I ingested yesterday at mom's.

The night before I recall a horrifying dream incident.  There were 5 hoodlums of a very cruel nature, 4 of whom were about to assault a particular girl.  She'd apparently already had some experience with them and was badly frightened, but she somehow possessed certain mind powers.  Just as they laid hold of her, she knocked them aside, then, lifting them from 5 - 8 ft off the ground, she repeatedly dashed them speedily and violently to the earth much as does a basketball bounce when dribbled.  They screamed their bone-crushing agony with great intensity at the first, but rapidly their voices grew faint as their bodies assumed a pulped form.  Then she sent them rapidly running, though dead, up a highway at a friction-burning speed that made of them mere blurs.  My memory is unclear as to the fate of the remaining masher.

I did my laundry this morning; at the store I bought Skull the Slayer #4, the "Happy Days" TV Guide, and Knave (a sad expense of $1.75).  I nearly got killed returning to the laundromat; I was passing in front of a bus stopped at the lite, then broke into a hurry as the lite turned orange, causing a sudden mutual stop to a car coming alongside it who didn't even seem bent on stopping till then; it skidded.

Back at home I finished a letter to Jean.

I napped adequately, and arose close to 2:30 p.m.  I became conscious as I enjoyed the fulness of a WD; I erupted astraddle the lap of a girl whose extremely wetted tongue was being assiduously sucked by myself; I purposefully relaxed and thrilled to the sensuality of the experience in order to achieve the acme.

Bill dropped by at the tail end of my shower.  Before returning with him to his place for an eve of watching TV, I put away my attempt at making granola.

He gave me a tin of a salmon pea sauce mix which I ate cold at his place.

I shall be in bed by 10:30 p.m. at latest (I mailed Jean's letter on my way home).
Jean M. Martin (née Black) was an American pen-pal I had.

I certainly had my share of dreams!  I just wish that I could still have the erotic ones, but age has robbed me of that delight.

I think the laundromat was on Sixth Avenue, near the public library.  However, I  now have no idea what store it was that I was buying the periodicals from.

My old friend William Alan Gill had a bachelor suite about four or so blocks from my room.  He had just recently been laid off work, so I was seeing a little more of him than I otherwise would have.

Incidentally, this would be the cover of the TV Guide that I bought that day:

Post a Comment