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Thursday, April 13, 2017

An Expensive Better Alternative to PSA Testing │ The Trauma of Cancer Screenings │ Safe Liver Detox and Gallbladder Flush │ Dangers of Proton-Pump Inhibitors

Yesterday I had mentioned here how my eldest step-son Tho had told me that he made an unsuccessful attempt to awaken his younger brother Poté early in the morning for work, believing Poté had a 7:00 a.m. start.

Poté never actually rose and then left for work until possibly after 9:00 a.m., leading me to wonder if he had slept in and was therefore late.

Well, last evening the kid explained that in his capacity as stock manager, his driver who daily brings in new stock was on bereavement leave ─ the guy typically arrived at the store very early to make the deliveries, and he even was in text contact with Poté concerning those deliveries.

The replacement driver prefers delivering later ─ generally around 11:00 a.m. And so it is that Poté has no need to show up extremely early at the store.

As for Tho trying to wake him up yesterday, the kid claimed not to remember anything about it.

Can people still sleep that deeply naturally? It seems so unimaginable to me.

I got to bed last night at 11:06 p.m. The first time thereafter that I was awake enough to consider checking the time, it was 3:25 a.m., so I opted to have a bathroom break and also drink some water.

I was wearing earplugs, but I could hear it raining outside ─ which meant that it was raining hard.

I resumed sleep, and next made a time check at 6:49 a.m. ─ time to rise. I had work to do on the old post I am editing at my website My Retirement Dream.

First, though, after making my morning's mug of hot blended instant coffee / cocoa powder, I spent time dealing with my E-mail situation. I also remembered that I had a bill payment due on the coming Monday, so I needed to see if I could print out the billing "stub" to include with my cheque.

The printer's blank ink nozzles are too clogged to print any longer, but I had successfully saved a copy of that "stub" with a dark green colour instead of black text. I was to find that it did indeed print.

I felt that I needed to get the payment into today's mail to have any certainty that it would arrive at Rogers by Monday, so that would entail getting it into a mailbox with a sufficiently late pick-up schedule. I was unable to remember if the nearest mailbox pick-up time was scheduled for 9:00 a.m. or 11:00 a.m., but one about four blocks away in a different direction has an afternoon pick-up.

Since it was already after 9:00 a.m. by the time I had the envelope, payment "stub," and my cheque all written up and ready for mailing, I would be getting the eight-block round-trip walk.

It was 9:32 a.m. when I set off under overcast skies, but there was no rain; and I was back home again at 9:51 a.m.

[Edit note: Just before publishing this post, it struck me that Monday is a statutory holiday, so there will be no mail delivery. My bill payment is not going to arrive before Tuesday ─ too late!]

I still had not even started work on that post I am editing, so I had to get at it ─ I am sometimes already finished the work I usually try to put into such posts in the course of an average day.

I took a break during the work for some dumbbell exercise that I hoped would prep me for a shed exercise session after I was done with the post ─ that latter exercise session entails a few body-weight exercises like pull-ups.

All went according to plan, and the shed workout matched that of Tuesday in which I had my best performance thus far this year of 2017.

While I was in the shed, a rain shower commenced that seemed like it might turn into a downpour; but that did not develop, and the shower soon enough passed.

Once back in the house, it was time to prepare my first meal of the day. And although I was not entirely certain that I had prepared enough to keep me until my second and last meal of the day, I soon discovered that I was in some discomfort trying to finish the repast. I persevered, however, but I admit to becoming unpleasantly full.

Of course, that necessitated a lie-down, since doing so upon one's left side is reputed to assist with digestion. Any nap is pure plus.

That reminds me that at rising this morning, I recalled experiencing an interesting dream, but now all of it is lost to memory. I hate that.

Anyway, it is presently 4:07 p.m., and still heavily overcast outside, but no serious rain has thus far developed.    

In yesterday's post, I finished presenting the final batch of many, many photos taken at the marriage of my wife Jack's cousin ─ the cousin was the bride ─ at a celebration that took place at the bride's home in Nong Soong.

Jack attended.

Nong Soong is Jack's home village, and it's possibly no more than a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

I believe that the event occurred on November 12, 2016. Later that day, Jack and her "sister-cousin" and at least a couple of other adults, plus some children, seem to have gone to Udon Thani. My guess is that they were at a Kentucky Fried Chicken in either Central Plaza, or else UD Town.

There are at least another two KFC restaurants in Udon Thani.

Anyway, I might as well post some of those photos.

In this first, I expect that Jack is likely behind the camera, but I do not know the attractive lass with the shoulder tattoos, nor the gent beside her:

In this second photo, my wife Jack (left) appears to have been trying to take a selfie with her "sister-cousin" who is sporting the adhesive bandage along her jaw:

The next batch of photos were either taken by someone who had commandeered the camera and were not as careful as Jack normally is; or else Jack suddenly became unusually unsteady:

The boy seated up high in the next photos is Jack's nephew Daniel ─ the son of Jack's second-oldest sister Penn:

And I shall stop there for today, rather than inflict more of this sameness upon myself nor you. Besides, I am running low on blogging time.

The afternoon here has become full of sunny breaks, and I even heard and saw the very first ice-cream truck come by this year. How desperate is that?


Prostate cancer ─ no guy wants to hear that.

But as with mammography for women, the prostate-specific antigen (PSA) test has duped unimaginable numbers of people to undergoing surgeries and related treatments that never should have been performed.

However, Dutch researchers have found a certain MRI procedure to be much more reliable at detecting prostate cancers than is PSA testing. Here are a couple of reports:



I found that first reference's title to be ludicrous, inferring as it does that mammography is actually reliable for cancer detection in breasts.

The mere fact of undergoing a cancer screening is actually tantamount to being traumatic for many people ─ I will leave the following article for you:



Have you ever considered undergoing a liver cleanse and/or a gallbladder flush?

There is far more involved than most of us realize, and people should never take on this type of therapy without an absolutely thorough period of preparation.

The following article and its video are very important if you have serious considerations of either procedure:


I have to admit that I got a kick out of the listings given for symptoms of liver and gallbladder distress ─ have I ever had one or more of them?

My, Lord!  Who hasn't?!

In fact, I'm still uncomfortably full five hours later after that heavy meal I had earlier today!

And yes, there most definitely has been considerable "bad wind," as my wife Jack used to refer to it.

But of course, had I not indulged so overtly, I would not be in this state ─ and I know it. Thus, I would judge that liver or gallbladder issues are entirely unrelated to what I am experiencing.

My supper is going to be just a snack at very most. My stomach does not have the voluminous capacity that it once had when I was young. Today's brunch would not have affected me at all badly back then.


Nicely tying in with the preceding discussion of liver and gallbladder issues, heartburn (or indigestion) does plague many people. I had lots of trouble with it as a young adult, but that trouble entirely went away when I quit being a mealtime glutton ─ today's brunch notwithstanding.

But anyone who is taking medication for their heartburn need to steer clear of and far away from the class of drugs known as proton-pump inhibitors (PPIs). Example brand names include Losec, Prilosec, Zegerid, Prevacid, Kapidex, Dexilant, Nexium, Protonix, AcipHex, Noltec, and many, many others.

Here are a couple of reports on the latest dire findings concerning these dangerous medications nobody should risk taking:





That final reference also enumerates the many other ills this class of medication is responsible for.


I am closing 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 my little "suite" in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

After being out drinking beer the night before, I hadn't gotten to bed until maybe 1:30 a.m. 
TUESDAY, April 13, 1976

I got myself up before 8:30 a.m.

I'd had a very enjoyable dream experience, benefiting from a delicious kissing experience bestowed by Cathy. I actually dream about her a lot as compared to other women, though not always so favourably.

I should mention last night Bill voiced his plan to take me with him to Vancouver Island to fish, staying with people he knows, next week for a couple days during his holidays then. But not if I can gracefully avoid it!

Mom's turkey dinner is next Sunday.

I went to Woodward's and spent $4.92 on groceries. An old man in there developed some complication, and a nurse and 2 others helped him, laying him on the floor. As I left I saw Russ Jeffs coming afoot, but was successfully inconspicuous. Soon after I noted an emergency vehicle with siren wending the way of Woodward's.

At 1:41 p.m. Wrayanne brought about a truly Climaxic eruption full equal to Sunday's thoroughness.

I next caught up on some sleep, arising at 4:00 p.m.

I'm going to bed at 9:30 p.m.
Dream-girl Catherine Jeanette Gunther was my younger brother Mark's girlfriend, and I did indeed seem to be recording quite a few dreams about her. I not only thought that she was magnificently hot, but I adored the young woman ─ usually. We unfortunately had a few feuds.

It was my old friend William Alan Gill who spoke of taking me fishing. Bill lived in a bachelor suite that he was renting, perhaps four or so blocks from my room. He had grown up on Vancouver Island.

I never went fishing with him at anytime in our lives, so that trip obviously did not include me if he did go.

Woodward's was only about three blocks distant on Sixth Avenue ─ the Royal City Centre Mall now occupies the building complex, which has since been much improved. Apparently I managed to avoid being noticed by my social worker, Russ Jeffs ─ he was an older genial Englishman, but I was not naturally social and generally avoided encounters with people I only casually knew.

The reference to Wrayanne signified a model in a pornographic magazine that was aptly called Climax ─ I shall explain no further.
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