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Saturday, April 1, 2017

Increase Fruits and Vegetables to Prevent Depression │ A Broken Hip Can Be a Death Sentence for Elderly │ Ibuprofen's Cardiac Arrest Risk

I enjoyed a good initial block of sleep overnight, but had difficulty sleeping thereafter. And even though I took note of the time when I retired to bed, when I had that first break in sleep, and when I rose this morning, not one of those readings is with me any longer.

However, it seems to me that it may have been at least 6:45 a.m. when I rose. My youngest step-son Poté was up ─ his girlfriend had slept overnight with him, so he had to drive her somewhere because she has a fairly early start at work.

She has two part-time jobs, as I understand it ─ both in the restaurant field.

It was raining quite hard, and probably had rained most of the night. I generally wear earplugs in bed, so I do not always notice.

I was busy putting content into the new post I began yesterday at my Thai-Iceland website when my younger brother Mark got up to have his shower. He was unable to sleep in as he usually does on Saturday morning because he had to get some repair work done on his truck, and that was going to first entail driving out to whatever parking compound he keeps it at (maybe on Annacis Island?); and then drive the truck out to the repair shop in either Abbotsford or Aldergrove.

The repairman was supposed to be someone Mark knows from the bar he generally drinks in, so I reckon he would be getting some sort of decent break on repair costs.

And of course, once done, he would have to return the big cargo truck back to where he keeps it parked.

He never did return home for a nap, so I expect that he's had a long day of it. Once he gets his van again, he'll probably just hook up with his girlfriend Bev and commence his daily drinking at the bar she works for.

I hope they get along, and that he doesn't show up this evening because the two have a 'stinking-drunk' fight. He normally spends Saturday night at her home ─ I don't need him back here this evening with his under-rested, pickled brain, blighting my evening of whatever television I opt to watch.

I want to have an evening without disruption, and get to bed nice and early. I have had a scant nap myself this early afternoon, so I am anticipating that I shall readily fall asleep this evening once I gain bed for the night.

The rain stopped in the latter morning; the initial afternoon was quite overcast, but further rain does not look likely. I don't know if it will still hold, but a weather report from a couple of evenings ago projected that Sunday would be sunny.

Last Fall, when my wife Jack charged up the cost of a round-trip flight back to Thailand so that she could visit her mother for the first time since March 2013, Jack had the opportunity to attend the wedding of a maternal relative ─ the bride, I am suspecting.

I also would conjecture that the ceremony took place within or very near to the large village of Nong Soong, Jack's home village. It's maybe a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

Here are some photos of the event that I believe occurred on November 12, 2016:

Here is my wife Jack:

I cannot identify the woman with Jack in the next two photos:

And now my wife Jack's oldest sister Lumpoon is posed with the same woman for a couple of photos:

Such a lovely bride! Seated beside her is Jack's mother; and standing at the right is Lumpoon again:

It surprises me how much darker my wife Jack is, standing next to the bride ─ the seated man is the husband of Jack's sister Lumpoon:

This is Jack's only surviving brother Santi ─ she had two other brothers who both died separately as young adults:

At the left is Jack's mother, and then Lumpoon and her husband:

No one at this next table of wedding guests looks familiar to me:

The new husband and wife:

Here is Jack taking a selfie with the couple in the background:

Jack's brother Santi again; the standing man resembles someone I met a few times whom Jack identified as her uncle, although I believe the relationship is only through marriage:

These two kids are unknown to me ─ cute little girl:

And I will stop with this photo of Jack's mother ─ I am sure that Jack was really intent on capturing the food on the table:

There are too many other photos to include in this post.


You might find the following short article to be of interest, discussing as it does the very real likelihood that a diet rich in vegetables and fruits can actually induce a better mood, and even 'prevent' depression:


Concerning that 14-day study meantioned in the article involving three groups of young adults, these are the final two sentences of its conclusion:
This is the first study to show that providing high-quality [fruits and vegetables] to young adults can result in short-term improvements in vitality, flourishing, and motivation. Findings provide initial validation of a causal relationship between [fruits and vegetables] and well-being, suggesting that large-scale intervention studies are warranted. 
But results like that in just two weeks? That is beyond remarkable.


A broken hip at any age is long-term misery; but for the elderly, it can be a death sentence. The following two reports concern a recent study that bore this out:



This is the closing paragraph to the study:
In conclusion, our study confirms that elderly individuals who have suffered a hip fracture are at increased risk of dying, compared to those who have not, in the short term after the fracture but also years later. Appropriate measures need to be implemented for primary and secondary prevention of hip fracture in order to ensure better quality of life and survival in the elderly.
The loss of physical and psychological independence is undeniably devastating.


At the start of February, I misdiagnosed the cause of swelling developing in my left cheek, believing it to be the result of temporomandibular joint dysfunction.

When after a week the pain was so bad that I could barely get any sleep ─ and by then, the swelling looked as if there was a large orange embedded within my cheek ─ I started feeling desperate.

On the ninth day, I surrendered resistance and took three Advil that day, one just before bedtime. But it failed to bring any sleep relief from the pain ─ and by then I was heaping up a pile of bedding to lie against with my good side, for lying prone seemed to aggravate the pain in my cheek.

On the 10th day, I finally sought medical attention. The diagnosis was that my parotid gland's duct had become blocked, and an infection had set in.  

I probably took three Advils each day for maybe five consecutive days at most, even though I knew they can be dangerous for some people.

Yet medical staff gainsaid that there was any harm, and that I could safely double or even triple the dose for the short term.

But that wasn't for me. Apparently I read more concerning the drugs than had the doctors.

And now note these recent mid-March reports on a study concerning Advil (ibuprofen) and related nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs):    





As the researchers warn, none of these drugs ─ even Advil ─ should be sold without a prescription from a qualified medical professional. The medication is that dangerous.

Mainstream medical professionals have to quit reading the false assurances and hype that the pharmaceutical corporations put out there, and start doing some browsing of alternate reading matter.


And I am done for the day!

By the way, the afternoon became very sunny.

I 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. "Home" was a very small affair that I was renting in a house located on Ninth Street, about two houses up from Third Avenue.
THURSDAY, April 1, 1976

I got up a short while after 6:30 a.m.

While doing my laundry, I bought a TV Guide and 4 comics (including an annual); an older fellow was laundering when I returned from the store. 

It's a sunny day.

The fact of the landlady's going out combined with the deteriorating efficiency of my complexion camouflage persuaded me to go to Woodward's about 11:30 a.m. and forget about waiting on my cheque; I blew $4.38 on 3 dozen medium eggs and 3 lbs liver.

The landlady returned with a horde of stomping, noisy relatives and brought my cheque down to my box sometime after 1:30 p.m.

I composed a letter re The Defenders #36 (June) decrying the Plant Man's continuing base status; I'll mail it tonight.

And that's all I did; I scrapped my plan of going to Queen's Park to work out. I'll go to bed about 7:40 p.m.

I got to sleep, then about 9:15 p.m. or so Bill came over. I guess his purpose was to tell me my mother was worried about me; Mark & Cathy are well occupying his time alright, to his great satisfaction.

I will retire about 9:40 p.m.
I used a laundromat that I believe was located on Sixth Avenue, very near to the public library. Woodward's back then was only across and just down that avenue, but it probably was not open when I laundered ─ I generally tried to arrive at the laundromat at or right after its automatic 8:00 a.m. opening.

My complexion was in bad enough condition that I was holing up in my room, and had avoided hiking out to the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey to visit my mother Irene Dorosh as I usually did at least a couple of times a week.

Her home was my main mailing address, but I did get some mail where I was living. Unfortunately, I would only receive it after my landlady sorted it once it was dropped through her front door ─ she would get around to bringing any mail for me, leaving it in a special box outside my door in the basement.

I only used that door to avail myself of the shower and toilet cubicle that was there and intended for me, or to check for mail. I had a different door in my room that gave me access to the outside world.

My old friend William Alan Gill ─ who I think turns 71 today, by the way ─ lived four or so blocks from my room. He rented a bachelor suite, and had a telephone ─ I could not afford to have mine connected for service.

Bill also had a nice new car, and all week had been letting my younger brother Mark and Mark's girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther have use of it ─ their car had been smashed up in a traffic accident. Bill was very 'needy' socially, so having this sort of inclusion in their lives must have been quite ideal for him, even if someone else would have deemed it inconveniencing.

Queen's Park had an outdoor fitness circuit that I would use for doing a series of chin-ups, parallel-bar dips, and push-ups off those parallel bars ─ there may even have been a set of low-lying parallel bars for push-ups, too.    

Surrey where I am now living used to have a number of such fitness circuits, but over a decade ago they eradicated every one of them for some bizarre reason, the pricks. 
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