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Thursday, March 30, 2017

Less Radiation for Breast-Cancer Patients │ Your Favourite Fruits and Vegetables Are Probably Toxic with Pesticides │ Try to Eat Seasonally?

It was something like 11:08 p.m. when I made it to bed last night, finding myself feeling less sleepy than I had hoped I would.

My sleep was fairly fragmented overnight, and the last dream I could recall was quite dramatic, but its details are lost to me now. I could easily have risen well before 6:00 a.m., but I chose to wait until that hour, for I really have no idea if it is at all disturbing to my youngest step-son Poté when I go downstairs to prepare my morning's mug of a hot blend of instant coffee / cocoa powder. The kitchen light shines into the boys' den area where he chooses to make his bed.

I needn't have been too concerned. When I removed my earplugs, dressed, and opened my bedroom door, I saw that he was in the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, although no lights were yet on downstairs.

His girlfriend had stayed the night and was still in bed.

I fixed my beverage and returned upstairs to where I keep my computer, and then began the morning ritual of dealing with the flood of overnight E-mails to my Inbox.

Meantime, Poté and his girlfriend readied themselves and left ere quite 6:30 a.m., for both evidently had early starts at their separate places of employment.

His older brother Tho was still in bed ─ he has not gone to work this week, and I have no idea why.

On target for today was the completion of the post that has occupied me for over a week at my Latin Impressions website, and that is now published: Dragon Age Inquisition Romance Walkthrough.

That website is the poorest performing of my six hosted websites. By way of illustration, for the entire period from March 22 up to today, only March 25 is listed as having seen any visitors to the website ─ there were supposedly two that day.

Clearly, I am wasting my life blogging; and it is why that I am considering just quitting this blog once the sunny, warm weather has arrived.

Today has been a mix of Sun and cloud. Now that I am done with that Latin Impressions post, perhaps tomorrow I will get out and undertake a beer replenishment hike to the government liquor store about two miles distant.

The sole other thing of note that I have been involved with today has been putting further work into the drafts of the income tax returns for my wife Jack and I. It has all been so confusing.

I only have the two tax returns to work with, so I do not wish to mess things up. However, the dilemma has been trying to determine what would be most advantageous in terms of the total refunds we would be getting back: give her all of the medical deductions and charitable donations to claim; take them for myself; or give her the medical deductions while I take the charitable donations...or vice versa.

I find myself losing track of what I am doing on the papers I use as my worksheets, for there are so many damned fields within the tax returns and the related schedules, and so many various calculations to be making manually.

I should have mapped out just how I was going to take this task on, but I did not.

However, I think that the best scenario would be if she had the medical deductions, and I claimed the charitable donations. When next I put more work into this, I will use a pencil and make actual entries on our personal copies of the tax returns, and see if I managed to figure out the proper refund amounts despite the mass of figures I have all over the working papers I've been writing on.

Unfortunately, I put in several hours of work doing this today, and my bad eyes are suffering for it. I had hoped to be able to lie down awhile and rest up before tackling today's blog, but I just do not have the luxury of spare time to lose with any bed-rest.

Before I move on to other topics, I want to present a few photos that were taken last Fall in my wife Jack's home village of Nong Soong, which is no more than about a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

No doubt, all of the following photos were taken right around Jack's family home:

This is Jack's nephew Daniel ─ he is the son of Penn, Jack's next oldest sister (Jack has two sisters):

And here is my wife Jack, sitting just outside the family home's front door (if I am not mistaken):

That same front door is in this photo featuring Jack's nephew Daniel (right) and some lad I do not know:

Enough photos for today ─ I have not the time to continue with more.


How I sympathize with women who have had to undergo radiation therapy for breast cancer! Who knows what consequences there will be in the years ahead?

I am concerned for myself just because of having two CT scans last month when I had developed a huge swelling in my left cheek as a result of a blocked parotid gland. There was even a third one ordered, but I staunchly questioned it, and finally was told that it was not essential.

I am growing fuzzy now on the details of CT scans, but I had read that ─ depending upon just what the scanner's settings were ─ the punch one scan had was equivalent to anywhere from 200 to at least 1,100 regular X-rays!

Ahh! I just found the report I was recalling ─ it actually said that the range spanned 150 to 1,100 times the amount of radiation that one normal X-ray would use. The article is from July 21, 2013, at ScientificAmerican.com: How Much Do CT Scans Increase the Risk of Cancer?

But let's get back to the ladies and breast cancer radiation treatments:



When it comes to a cancer diagnosis, none of us should ever just rely on one specialist's opinion. And the same goes for the course of treatment.

I agree with the conclusion of that second report ─ the situation today can only be as bad as it ever was where excessive radiation treatments are concerned. The mainstream medical profession knows nothing else, and it isn't interested in finding out about anything else ─ not when there is so much money to be made from abiding by the status quo.


Yesterday when I was doing some grocery shopping, I saw fairly large plastic containers of gorgeous-looking red strawberries. I won't normally buy them ─ especially at this time of year ─ but these were labeled as being organic, even though imported from California.

Well, deep red or not, the few I have had thus far were more sour than sweet. But at least I know I am not getting a load of pesticides.

The Environmental Working Group just recently released its list of the most pesticide-laden fruits and vegetables, and strawberries were the worst:



What I don't quite understand is how potatoes get sprayed with pesticides ─ they're underground. If the tubers need to be protected from insects or whatever, then the darned plants must get virtually bathed in pesticides so that the stuff soaks deep into the soil!

I also rather wonder why hot chili peppers need to be sprayed ─ what's going to be chowing down on those?

This is all pretty darned discouraging, but it sure goes to show where public health stands in relationon to profits in the minds of most commercial farmers.

It's unfortunate that we cannot all just grow much of our produce, such as this suggestion for blueberries:


We have a little bit of space in our yard, but I know the yard has been sprayed with who-knows-what for decades. Also, I have no idea how otherwise toxic the soil might be ─ it may be fine for flowers and related garden plants; yet it might harbour construction or landfill residues of one sort or another that I would not wish to be ingesting, but which some edible plant I had raised and harvested had soaked up.


I sense that there may well be some wisdom in the following two articles, but can eating seasonally really matter as much as doing so is here stressed?


I am willing to grant that maybe our very remote ancestors did have to eat according to what was available in each season of the year, and our bodies might still resonate with that ancient way of life.

But there are parts of the world where there really is scant difference year-round as to what is available to eat ─ the tropics, for example. Cannot things like coconuts, bananas, mangoes, and so on grow and produce throughout the year?

I honestly don't know. It just seems to my reasoning that an ancient European or native North American may well have had to eat in the seasonal sense as described in those two articles, but someone in Southeast Asia or tropical Central and south America would not have been under such restrictions.

It is definitely an interesting concept, however ─ especially since I may well be wrong about the tropical regions.


I sent out the following to my mailing list last evening, but it's worth repeating here:
In 1953, one of the two contestants on Groucho Marx's T.V. show You Bet Your Life was a Texas-born man whose father was a Mexican American, and whose mother was a native-born Mexican.

The chap identified himself as Ramiro G. Gonzalez.

The following video is the full sequence involving Ramiro G. Gonzalez and the hapless American woman that he was partnered with, for Ramiro completely eclipsed her. I do not know if I have ever in my life seen anybody who was so naturally comical as this guy, who didn't even seem to realize just how funny he was being.

Heck, if I did not know better, I would have believed that his whole routine was just an act. But it was not.

The story goes that actor John Wayne must have been watching this episode on T.V., and was so smitten with the guy that he got him hired to act in a few of Wayne's Westerns as some comedy relief, pretty much playing himself just as you saw him in the Groucho Marx show.

He got some other roles after that, too, including as a voice in some cartoons.

However, because he had to leave school at the age of seven, he couldn't really read. So his wife would read his scripts to him, and he would do his best to memorize them.

I was surprised to learn that his grandson ─ Clifton Collins Jr. ─ is a fairly active actor.
I had no idea when I watched the full series Westworld recently, that Clifton Collins Jr. had a recurring role. 

I see via Wikipedia that a second season of episodes is planned for the series, but they pretty much killed off all of the central characters in the season finale ─ the human ones, anyway. 

Okay, time to close 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.

My living space was really quite small; I was renting it in a house located on Ninth Street, and a couple or so houses up from Third Avenue.

I had planned to take on the 1½-hour hike out to Surrey this day to visit my mother Irene Dorosh, but that was not to be.
TUESDAY, March 30, 1976

Like a fool, I opened the door this a.m., no later than 4:00 a.m. He, my drunken father, was alone, and I slept no more.

He drank near a quarter gallon of wine before I finally got the maudlin, grating dreamer on his way, in tears cause he's playing the "Nobody loves me" routine.

So much for visiting mom.

He didn't leave till 11:30 a.m.

Again, yesterday's evil whelmed me in a full eruption, about 3:20 p.m. At least I have glutted for the final time ere my protein diet; I plan not to overeat at mom's tomorrow.

I shall retire by 9:00 p.m.
My father Hector must have come visiting while on a carouse, but I cannot imagine where he would have been coming from at that hour. He lived off in Burnaby, so he most definitely would not have walked ─ and certainly not far in his state. 

I had not visited him since before Christmas, for I had a bad 'falling out' out with my father's live-in girlfriend, Maria Fadden. Thankfully, she was not with him when he visited me.

The poor guy would get sickeningly cloying all too often when he got drunk, so my younger brother Mark and I did our best to avoid him when he was that way. However, it sounds like I had his company for about 7½ hours while he guzzled my stash of cheap wine. 

I feel bad now reading about this, for I miss my old father. He was not to live another decade. 

Yet I turned him out late that morning when he was in no condition to be going anywhere...but what else could I do? He probably was not interested in sleeping, and he certainly had no intention of trying.

Still, it was doing his health no good whatsoever. A heart attack is what finally took him out...and I have missed him ever since.

For about the past week, I have written in my journal about a protein diet I planned to undergo beginning on April 1st ─ it was actually supposed to be a whole turnaround of my life. However, I now have no idea what I thought I was going to do ─ I hardly had any income, so a protein diet was definitely beyond my economic reach. 

The "evil" I referred to was self-abuse ─ something else that I hoped to put behind me with the arrival of April.

My father wasn't the only "dreamer," alas.
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