.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, April 21, 2017

Tips for a More Satisfying Medical Appointment │ The Prostate Cancer Treatment That Elevates Risk of Dementia │ Study Finds Large Doses of Vitamin C Reduce Effects and Duration of Colds

Despite getting to bed last evening comfortably ahead of 11: 00 p.m. ─ it was nearer 10:30 p.m. ─ sleep just would not arrive.

Then suddenly the bedroom door opened and light flooded in ─ my wife Jack was home unannounced from Vancouver. I feigned being asleep; and when she got whatever it was she had sought and then shut the bedroom door again, I peeked at the time ─ I think it was 11:42 p.m.

I had been lying in bed for over an hour without sleep, and now Jack was home to disrupt sleep further.

She probably got busy cooking in the kitchen. However, whenever it was that she finally joined me in bed, I still had not gotten asleep.

It was a poor night's sleep without question ─ so darned fitful, and I just do not understand why.

The final interruption arrived just ahead of 6:00 a.m. ─ her oldest son Tho rapped on the bedroom door to summon her up so that she could drive him to the SkyTrain and save the lazy bum bothering with a bus. I used to walk, but he doesn't even do that ─ he generally catches a bus to take him to the SkyTrain.

After Jack got up, so did I.

I was to learn after she returned that she had only just managed to fall asleep right before he knocked and woke her up ─ she tends to sleep at least as poorly as I do.

Our bedroom is on the upper floor of the house, but I cannot help but wonder if we fare so badly because the electrical and gas meters are on the wall outside at the ground floor, and immediately below our heads.

Normally after Jack gets back from hauling a lazy son somewhere early in the morning, she returns directly to bed. But not this time. She got busy doing a number of things downstairs while I worked at laying the foundation for a new post at my Amatsu Okiya website.

I asked her about why she hadn't returned to bed, and she assured me that she still intended to. And so she finally did around 8:00 a.m.

At least she had been present to see her youngest son Poté get up earlier in the morning, and leave to drive himself to work. (Tho sold his own car this past Wednesday, since he's serving a year-long driving suspension.)

The day's weather was predicted to be quite sunny. Yesterday my plan for today had been to make a shopping expedition afoot to a supermarket that is probably at least 1¼ miles distant, but Jack's unheralded appearance last night cancelled any thought of doing that.

I at least wanted to benefit from the projected sunshine ─ the morning had lots of huge, great clouds floating about affording far too brief periods of sunshine.

Nevertheless, as the morning advanced, I decided to risk it and went out into the backyard to sit in a chair while barefooted, and face into the Sun. It was 11:40 a.m. when I began.

I truly lucked out, for not once did cloud obscure the sunshine, and the clouds became weaker and weaker as they faded away. I put in about 45 minutes. I was wearing cut-offs, but I had started off also wearing a tee shirt underneath a pullover ─ it was still fairly cool out there.

By the time my session was done, I was of course over-warm. Jack had risen meanwhile.

She did her thing in the house, and I applied myself at hunting up dandelions to dig out of the yard, as well as also digging up some vine-like roots of what I suspect are field bindweed sprouts now popping up in garden areas. I always thought they were morning glorys.

Until reading about the plants just now, I did not realize that one should never allow the plants to get so advanced as to flower ─ supposedly seeds can remain dormant for two decades.

They are certainly a nuisance. Some of the long vine-like roots are deeply hidden beneath buried dark mats previous owners laid to control weeds, but whole sections of these mats have been pulled up. Others still remain ─ especially under and around what I imagine are probably types of rhododendron bushes.

So those field bindweed or morning glory roots are inaccessible. I will just have to ensure that I allow none of the above-ground vines to become established and start climbing unmolested.

But enough of gardening talk.

Possibly since as far back as January, I have had a wasp that I found in our living room. It was so sluggish that I initially thought that it was dead.

I collected some dead maple leaves, and tore them up to place into a jar. Then I put the wasp in, along with a dollop of liquid honey.

The wasp never seemed to notice the honey; and as sluggish as it was, for some reason it worked its way beneath the torn leaves, but was somewhat visible through the side of the clear jar.

I hoped that it was hibernating, and awaiting warm weather.

Well, we have had little of that. In fact, March was the most sunless March on record since such records have ever been kept here in the Greater Vancouver or Lower Mainland area ─ whatever the heck this region is properly known as (I live in Surrey).

So it has seemed unseasonably cool. Two years ago, I already had a suntan by now, and the talk was that we were having drought weather by June ─ and it wasn't even Summer.

Anyway, today was the first time that I was certain about seeing any kind of bees flying about ─ I saw a couple of wasps, and at least one enormous bumblebee.

So I brought out the jar with the wasp and set it up on the backyard sundeck railing in the sunshine, hoping the warm rays would stir it.

After a half-hour with no results, curiosity got the better of me, and I used a twig to reach down to the wasp. There was no reaction.

So I tilted the jar and disturbed the dried leaf fragments. Still nothing.

Then I emptied enough of them out onto the railing that the wasp also was ejected. I knew then that it was long dead.

Now I wonder if maybe it had needed some droplets of water more than the honey. But I had thought that if ever it became animated enough to care to try to climb to the top of the jar and the lid with the air-holes I had punctured into it, then I would become more involved in its welfare.

Why did it just work itself beneath some leaves and hole up as if it was hibernating?

I had kept the jar on a windowsill of an open window, so the jar was always very cool ─ just about as cool as outside temperatures, but of course lacking the threat of frost that visited the outdoors on occasion when first I housed the wasp in the jar.

All this while I had thought that I was performing a good deed.

But returning to other matters of the day, Tho was home during the noon-hour, having had a short day of it at work. The blessing in this was that he was able to mow the lawn in the early afternoon ─ my younger brother Mark had brought up the subject with the two brothers earlier in the week. This was the year's first mowing.

Jack was busy cooking. And then at about 3:30 p.m., she had left us to return to Vancouver. I have no idea when she will next show up.

I have been posting some photos that were taken last Fall when Jack charged the fare for a flight back to Thailand to see her mother for the first time since early March 2013.

The specific batch of photos I have been working through relate to a picnic or some similar outing that Jack and some of her loved ones undertook on (I think) November 13, 2016 ─ probably in the environs of the family village of Nong Soong, or else near to it.

Nong Soong is a very large village perhaps a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

We lead off with a photo of Jack; her mother is seated on a bench behind her, but I cannot identify the other two people:

I don't know if Jack is really taking a siesta, or just presenting for the camera; it is her old friend Daisha looking up at the camera:

I really like Daisha. He does his best to adopt the ladyboy lifestyle, although he seems more caricature of it than serious.

These pens contain fish; and in the photos I posted yesterday, some of Jack's companions were fishing from the deck they were all on ─ her brother-in-law even hooked at least one specimen:

This is Jack's only surviving brother, Santi:

This is where I shall stop for today ─ I am short on time.


How often do you make medical appointments?

The following article ought to interest you if you have an upcoming appointment, for it gives some advice on how to have a productive visit. According to the article:
Most doctor visits last just 13 to 16 minutes.
That's not including the waiting time, of course!


I had not thought much about it, but that claim concerning the average length of a session with a physician does seem to apply in visits I have had of late.


I never want to have any involvement with prostate cancer ─ what man would?

Treating prostate cancer can be life-ruining ─ in the sense of quality of life. But research is also finding that treatment ─ specifically androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) ─ is a very real threat insofar concerns the risk of dementia.

Nobody wants that!

Here are a couple of reports about the latest research:



Now, concerning some of the nasty symptoms prostate cancer treatments can bring on, I think that they are slightly minimized in this related report:


How many men have had their lives ruined by taking on unnecessary prostate cancer treatments because they were never told that active surveillance is a better option for most of them?


Do you suffer from regular colds?

If you do get at least one a year, then the following report on a recent study should be very interesting to you!



I tend to take two grams of vitamin C daily anyway ─ in other words, a 1,000-mg tablet each time I have a meal, for I do not tend to eat more than twice a day. But sometimes, I only eat a meal once a day, so I skip taking that second tablet.

Consequently, upping my dose to four grams just requires doubling what I already take. And it would be no problem to raise the does even higher if it's going to reduce the grip of a cold virus that's trying to take me over!


The day seems like Summer!

I am going to close my post 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 wee hideaway in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.
WEDNESDAY, April 21, 1976

The final day of the week of unleavened bread holy days; I fully roused about 6:10 a.m.

I did my laundry, sharing the place with 2 others. Nothing at the store for me.

After, I went to Woodward's and traded in yesterday's $7 money order on a $14.25 one to go for supplements; I also bought $3.35 worth of groceries, espying Gilles awaiting me at the line's end.

I went to his place (he gave me 3 7-oz cans of tuna), and he later to mine (I gave him 15 8¢ stamps).

He didn't leave me till about 3:14 p.m. 

I was really out of stride today, merely doing the minimum required of me in exercise performance; I felt so listless and lacking in tone.

Bed: 9:30 p.m.
I forgot that I sometimes tried to obey the Passover injunction of not consuming leavened bread. I would eat so-called hardtack, or just fry up some homemade bannock without using any baking powder or baking soda. 

I did my laundry at a laundromat whose door automatically opened at (I think) 8:00 a.m. I would try to get there right around that time so as to avoid other customers. The laundromat was probably located on Sixth Avenue, right near the public library.

I no longer recall what store I often referred to ─ I would go there in search of interesting comics, paperbacks, or magazines.

Woodward's was also on Sixth Avenue ─ it used to occupy the building that is now the Royal City Centre Mall. I went there this day after taking home my laundry.

The $7 money order was one that had come back in the mail because I had tried to place a mail-order for nutritional supplements in the States, but the company did not serve Canadian orders. 

Gilles was a very nice young French Canadian lad I had worked with for a short while at a New Westminster charitable organization. I liked the guy, but I tried to avoid him because he was usually so hard to get away from. I had my daily regimen involving exercising sessions and whatever else, and did not like unplanned disruption.

I could be very reclusive.
Post a Comment