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Wednesday, March 29, 2017

How Far Can the EPA and FDA Fall? │ Female Hormone Replacement Therapy and Improved Heart Health │ Gluten-Free Products Are NOT Health Foods

Did my eldest step-son Tho go to work today? He stayed home the previous two days.

Perhaps just after mid-afternoon yesterday, his girlfriend seemed to just let herself into the house and go to my step-sons' den area and seek Tho out where he was likely lolling on his bed just adjacent to the den.

I initially thought that it was my youngest step-son Poté arriving home from work until I heard her and Tho talking ─ he sleeps in a room directly below where I keep my computer.

Soon, they left together in her car; and I do not believe that he has returned home since. If he slept at her home, then it is always possible that he went to work from there.

Or of course not, if this is indeed his third day off work for whatever reason.

Last evening, after my younger brother Mark retired to his bedroom for the night and I had turned off the T.V. and come upstairs to do the same, I made a final check of my E-mail Inbox and found a message from Susan, the daughter of Eugene ─ one of my older maternal half-brothers. Eugene died in 2002, if I am remembering correctly.

Susan had first E-mailed me two days ago after a silence of perhaps a few years, and mentioned that she was now living in Medicine Hat, and had retired from the military.

Her message last evening was in response to the reply I had made to her first message ─ I had wondered if she had ever met my older maternal half-sister Phyllis.

I need here to clarify that my mother originally had a son and daughter in the 1930s ─ Ethel was born in 1934. and her younger brother Eugene was born in 1935.

My half-sister Phyllis and her younger brother Arnold are products of a later relationship that our mother had, and the two of them were born in the earlier 1940s.

I was born in 1949 after my mother got involved with my father, and my younger full brother Mark was born in 1952.

Ethel and Eugene made home in the Thunder Bay area of Ontario, whereas I believe that Phyllis and Arnold probably spent their earliest years in Richmond, B.C. Thus, the two sets of siblings never knew one another in any of the formative years of the younger pair.

And Mark and I essentially grew up in Surrey, never having too much at all to do with Phyllis and Arnold. There was some involvement when I was a pre-schooler; but I was never to see either Phyllis or Arnold again until Phyllis showed up at Johnston Road Elementary School when I was maybe in Grade VI or VII.

She didn't know our address, but somehow knew Mark and I were going to school there. Today, Johnston Road Elementary is probably forgotten, for it is now known as Sullivan Elementary. Apparently the school changed names in 1975.

When she showed up at the school, Phyllis was in her late teens and probably finished with high school. She had shown up with her boyfriend of the time. Even though I did not recognize her, I remembered who she was when my teacher ─ Principal Carey ─ had summoned me to the office to see her, and she identified herself.

That was around 1961 or 1962.

Phyllis was quite beautiful as a young woman, and was even Miss Richmond one year.

But back to Susan and her message of last night ─ I had asked her if she had ever met Phyllis:
I met Aunty Phyllis when she visited many years ago.  Her and Grandma Irene visited Aunty Ethel. 
You have heard that she passed away the beginning of March?  The internment at a later date. TBA
That was all she said about Ethel's passing. I have since done some research online after recalling Ethel's last name, and have found that she died March 1st at the age of 91.

I last saw Ethel around 2003 or 2004 when our mother Irene Dorosh was still alive and living in Keremeos ─ Ethel stayed with her for several months at one point. Ethel was pretty lively for her age, and loved to get out dancing and meeting guys ─ to our mother's annoyance, I think.

This photo of Ethel is date-coded as having been taken on December 20, 2016 ─ that is her at the left, but she is barely recognizable to me:

When I last saw her, she was into flowery hats and hippie-like clothing styles.

Time is so damned unkind.

Anyway, Mark had not yet gone to bed when I had read Susan's message about Ethel, so I spoke to him through his bedroom door, indicating that I had some news from Susan.

He was still fully dressed when he opened the bedroom door so we could talk.

I don't know if the news concerning Ethel was at all involved, but after I was in bed at 10:55 p.m., I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep. I felt wound right up.

I even considered getting up and doing some work here at my computer, but I knew that would just put me into a late start at my morning today.

Sleep eventually came.

I think that it was something like 6:06 a.m. when I rose this morning. Poté was already up, and left for work before it was yet 7:00 a.m.

I am still working on the new post at my Latin Impressions website ─ it has been over a week now that the post has been 'in the making.' I would love to be done with it tomorrow.

I didn't get quite a full day's work on the post today because I knocked off so that I could get out to do some local grocery shopping at the No Frills store about four blocks away in the Cedar Hills shopping plaza at 96th Avenue & 128th Street here in Surrey.

The store does not open until 9:00 a.m., so I left here just after that hour.

It was raining, and had been doing so since Monday evening (it finally ceased late this morning).

For the very first time since I developed an enormous swelling early last month that housed a bad abscess in my left cheek ─ the result of a parotid duct obstruction ─ I entered a place of business without pulling up a hood to hide the healing wound where the abscess had broken open.

I took these three photos on my way home after I had shopped:

This was me last month when the swelling was pretty much at its peak:

By the way, getting back to my older half-sister Phyllis ─ she got married last October to some retired Montana rancher that she met on a Caribbean cruise some while before.

A few months ago, she sent out a message to folks on her E-mail contact list to report that she was going to be down there until at least April (Phyllis lives in Chilliwack). I haven't received word from her since, but this morning I sent her a message about Ethel ─ I used Phyllis's two most recent E-mail addresses, as well as one that she provided for her new husband.

I have not yet gotten a response.


I have already posted about this topic recently, but it absolutely merits the exposure ─ the public needs to know about Monsanto and their sordid dealings:



I feel that I would be remiss if I did not also offer a couple of articles on a related matter.

The two reports above indicated how easily the EPA was misdirected when it came to protecting the public from Monsanto's cancer-causing glyphosate.

Well, the FDA is far worse in the context of protecting the public from dangers from the pharmaceutical and related industries, and it seems that that agency is about to become even more corrupted from its original mandate to keep the public safe:




That third article failed to offer a live link to any concerned American interested in expressing displeasure to President Trump over the turn the FDA is taking ─ this is the live link: whitehouse.gov/contact/.


I find myself reluctant to consider hormone replacement therapy (HRT) of benefit to any but those unfortunates whose bodies never were able to produce sufficient levels.

There is a recently published study proclaiming heart-health benefits to women who undertake such therapy:



I suspect that the major harms with HRT are when synthetic hormones are used. After all, no one is benefiting from all of the pseudo-hormonal endocrine disruptors in our foods, food containers, and various toiletries and cosmetics.

Perhaps the above study ought to be viewed from the perspective of this August 5, 2013, article at Mercola.com: Estrogen Could Have Prevented Almost 50,000 Deaths. 

Maybe the ticket is just to steer clear of a mainstream physician who wants to administer a synthetic hormone, and seek a physician who firmly believes in and practices natural hormone replacement.


This is another topic that I recently posted about, but I will do so again ─ it concerns a newly realized risk for people who choose a gluten-free diet:



Perhaps this is a good place to mention this January 22 article from Mercola.com that I have previously posted some time ago: How to Safely Bring Wheat Back Into Your Diet.


Gosh, the afternoon has become very sunny!

It shan't be long ere I will be able to start sitting out in the backyard and soaking up the sunshine and start gaining some colour ─ I hate my pasty look.

It is time to close off 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, and about a couple of houses up from Third Avenue.
MONDAY, March 29, 1976

I was up fairly soon after 6:00 a.m.

Again the sapphos of Club International drew me out, the magic moment being 11:45 a.m. It's my last similar experience if my April regimen is all I pray it will be. I must admit it was intense.

I'm really fattening up; I am eager for April.

I'll be hitting the old hay around 9:00 p.m.
This was my third consecutive day spent in my room, and not speaking to a soul other than myself, although I did go out after dark the previous evening just to mail a letter.

I was unusually reclusive.

The magazine reference was to a pictorial of two nude models whose charms overwhelmed my will and better judgment.

As for the month of April, I had some big plan afoot to undertake a protein diet and pursue muscle-building and a more noble way of life, but I just cannot now understand how I believed that I could do this. The main hurdle was that I had hardly any income. I can't even afford an exclusive protein diet today ─ I have never been able to.

Nevertheless, I sure wish that I was young again. Sometimes I think how fabulous it would be if I could have the companionship of my younger self to inspire me to do things outdoors once more instead of being essentially housebound like I am today.

Yes, I had just spent three entire days back in 1976 holed up in my room, speaking to no one. But I was also very active when not undergoing those lapses. I loved the night, and often traveled far afoot in the darkness without the concern that I would have today of doing so.

I knew that I could outrun anyone that might threaten me if it seemed that I was at a disadvantage, for I was quite strong and fit. Today, after the knee surgery I had the evening of November 5, 2010, to reattach the left quadriceps tendon back onto my patella (knee cap), I am no longer a runner. I fear confrontation that might be more than I could handle, for I could not escape it.  

So the night is no longer such a friendly place.

If ever I am able to move from here to somewhere in which I have outdoor privacy in all directions, I would undertake to regain the ability to run as nearly as I could re-train myself to perform this function once more. I have the heart ─ I just do not have the privacy and space in which to take on this sort of training.

But my time is running out....
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