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Sunday, May 28, 2017

Macular Degeneration Missed in 25% of Eye Exams │ Brain-Threatening Perchlorate in Baby Food Packaging │ Most Elective Knee Surgeries Are Useless

Finding myself home alone last evening, I decided to sample a T.V. series (via our Android TV Box) that I had not heard of before: Hindsight.

We have probably all pondered how our lives might have worked out far differently if something crucial had changed in our pasts ─ maybe that road not taken...or taken, if instead we had chosen to follow a key avenue that probably was a mistake.

I was entirely unfamiliar with lead actress Laura Ramsey; and although she made her character cute enough, I actually felt a slightly stronger attraction to the character played by actress Sarah Goldberg ─ whom I also had no familiarity with, and was surprised to later read that she was born in Vancouver (as was I).

By the finish of that pilot episode, I wanted more, so I tuned in the second episode, and grew more attached to Laura Ramsay and her character.

I am disappointed that the series opened and finished in 2015, having been cancelled; but I will watch the episodes that are still ahead for me.

It was 11:10 p.m. when I retired last night, and I was awake an hour later ─ I don't know what is going on with me. Definitely it was hot. I even tried sleeping with my head at the opposite end of the bed on the chance that the gas and electric metres outside the house's ground floor below the head of my bed may be bringing interference.

It would probably be better to sleep in the opposite side of the house.

I had a night of very fractured sleep, taking advantage once to pay a visit to the bathroom and drink some water. It was 6:41 a.m. when at last I checked the time and decided to rise for the day.

Only my youngest stepson Poté was home; and he rose right after I was downstairs awaiting the boiling of water for my day's first mug of hot blended instant coffee / cocoa powder. He soon left for work ─ or so it stands to reason.

I had engaged absolutely no exercise yesterday, so I intended to try for some in the backyard tool shed before my younger brother Mark was home from having overnighted at his girlfriend Bev's home. First, though, I wanted to get roughly half the work done I had planned for today on the new post I am putting together at my Latin Impressions website.

I figured that taking a break around 9:00 a.m. would afford me plenty of time, and the shed would still be reasonably cool.

Well, Mark sure fooled me ─ he showed up just ahead of 8:30 a.m. I cannot remember when he last may have gotten home as early as that.

So when he entered his bedroom here upstairs ─ he usually has a shower immediately after getting home from a Saturday night at Bev's residence ─ I had no option but to ready myself and get on out to that shed.

I did drop the last two of the five exercises I have of late adopted as my regimen, but the most strenuous of that lot of five exercises are five sets of pull-ups ─ I performed those. But I am suffering tendinitis at the insides of my elbows, the right elbow suffering the worst.

I keep hoping to adjust to the strain. But if things just progressively worsen, then as much as I hate the notion, I won't have any choice but to lay off.

It seems that Mark decided to have a good nap before he had his shower ─ I needn't have dropped the two exercises that I skipped. And just as I said about him arriving home as early as he did, I cannot remember when last he sought a nap before having his shower.

When finally he did emerge from his bedroom and went downstairs to have his coffee and breakfast, before the forenoon was done he was back in his bedroom for a bit further rest.

I can only suppose that he must have badly abused himself with the drinking yesterday. Yet right around noon, he headed away again and won't be home until the late afternoon or early evening. At some point, he will hook up with his girlfriend Bev and his drinking buddies.

At his departure, I decided to seek my own nap, having finished my first meal of the day somewhat before.

Strangely, though, I found myself unable to sink towards slumber. I didn't waste too long trying. I recognized that I was indeed wasting time; and since I actually felt reasonably well, I decided to instead do some sunning on the backyard sundeck.

And so I did ─ a little over an hour. I began around 12:26 p.m., and called a halt at 1:31 p.m.

It is now 2:51 p.m., and I am still happily home alone.

And since there is nothing else to report thus far concerning my day, I wish to post this old photo that I scanned recently ─ the description beneath is from the Google album where I have the scan filed. Note that I just recently posted what appears to be another version of the same photo:

My mother Irene Dorosh.

I am unable to guess where the photo may have been taken, but I would estimate that it would have been taken sometime during the decade of the 1990s.
I think that her left eye may have been patched, for I do recall that for quite some while, she suffered from the breakage of a blood vessel in one of her eyes.

I may as well post this photo, too:

This photo from my mother Irene Dorosh's collection is just about impossible for me to conjecture as to location or date.

Speaking of eyes, I would very much like to have my eyes examined by someone skilled enough to unfailingly detect any signs of eye disease. Unfortunately, despite what we may hear, not all eye examiners have the expertise to pick up on the earliest signs of trouble.

Note these reports concerning a revisit of the eye exam records of 644 people who had been cleared of having any notable problems ─ in these cases, relating to age-related macular degeneration (AMD or AMRD):




My vision at the age of 67 is extremely bad, and I would love to have my eyes checked out by someone very skilled. However, I do not have the quality of life that leads me to care to consider any sort of eye surgery as an option.

Perhaps once I am well off? ─ if that big lottery win arrives soon, for instance.


Are you familiar with perchlorate?

You sure don't want to be eating it, but if's pretty much inescapable if you eat packaged foods. And since it "threatens fetal and infant brain development," those most precious versions of us should not be exposed simply because some stinking food manufacturer's packages have less static when this toxin is added to the material.

If you care, you can read about what's going on in these reports:




As usual where industry and government are concerned, "Them's the risks, folks!"

We have to understand that profit and Big Industry matter before all else.


Yet another study has come out declaring that people are better off taking a pass on elective knee surgery for conditions like arthritic pain or partial meniscus tears.

If you are considering any such procedure, then pay heed to the following reports:






If you can read reports like these and still go ahead with the type of surgery being spoken about, then you only have yourself to blame. 

That last report claimed that there was to be a follow-up report on the topic later the same day. Well, it seems to have been pulled from the website, for there is no longer any trace of it. 

However, I did happen to have my own copy ─ can you see any reason that the website may have been forced to pull the article?
The knee shot you don't want
It's official. New guidelines admit the surgery pushed on MILLIONS of arthritis patients won't do a thing to ease your aching knees.

So, surgery's off the table.

But you've GOT to do SOMETHING, right?

Your doc will claim he's got just the ticket. He'll swear he's got a backup option to ease the agony, stop the damage, and give you that relief you've been looking for.

He'll offer to pump your knee so full of steroids it'll be the next home run champ.

Don't let him, my friend.

New research shows this treatment's about as effective as that surgery I told you about this morning.

It doesn't work!

In fact, over the long run, steroid shots can actually make your knees WORSE, not better.

In the new study, 140 patients were either injected with corticosteroids or a placebo every three months.

This isn't like an ordinary shot, either. It's not a quick prick into a meaty part of the body... but an injection directly into your knee.


It can hurt like heck, and some folks actually feel MORE PAIN for a couple of days afterward. It might be worth it, too, if that little surge in agony was followed by a dramatic drop in pain.

We'd all make that tradeoff, right?

But that's not what happened here.

There were no differences at all in pain levels in the folks who got the steroids vs. those who got the placebo injections, and not just after a few weeks or months.

This study went on and on and on for TWO FULL YEARS, with folks getting shot up every three months in hopes of getting a little pain relief.

They didn't get it. Even after two years, the pain levels in the two groups were the same.

And that's not all.

The folks given the steroid shots actually had MORE damage inside the knee, suffering from DOUBLE the drop in the thickness of the cartilage!

It might seem like you're running out of options here.

No surgery, no steroids, no hope, right?


Your knees don't WANT to fall apart. They just don't have the one ingredient they need to support the cartilage that's crumbling away in there.

Give it to them -- give them the collagen they can use to to protect, repair and even rebuild the crumbling cartilage so you have less pain and more movement.

The one "catch" here is that not all collagen supplements can be effectively absorbed by your body and used by your knees. Look for UC-II, which is so good for arthritis that studies show it works BETTER than the old standbys, glucosamine and chondroitin.

You'll find it available both on its own and as part of a quality joint support blend.

With a 'shot' of common sense....

And now it is time for me to close out with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. The house I was renting the small space in was located on Ninth Street, and a couple houses up from Third Avenue.

I had recently become employed on a full-time basis with a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society.

In those early years, S.A.N.E. was located in an old building that used to be situated right where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now opens up onto Carnarvon Street.

I had previous experience with this organization, having worked for them on a part-time basis ─ usually just a day a week ─ for somewhere between one to two years. However, I had served as a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck; but in my new full-time capacity, I was not required on the truck.

In fact, I did not have much requirement at all, and time tended to be an enormous weight that I was often forced to bear.
FRIDAY, May 28, 1976

At last Friday!

It may have taken me past midnight to fall asleep, but I didn't rouse till 6:30 a.m., actually believing it to be Saturday momentarily.

This morning at work I did next to nothing; David dropped by for a lengthy visit. We only broke up shortly past 1:00 p.m. at Safeway where I bought an apple pie and some boysenberry yogurt for tonight. David wants Bill & I to pick him up around noon tomorrow or Sunday; he is going to phone Bill tonight to make sure, and learn what are our plans re Harry.

On my way to Safeway I was certain I saw Mark getting into a yellow car, the 2 girls in the back seat; he was getting out of the liquor store, apparently.

After lunch, I made the street just in time to see Mike Schutz; he was headed back to work with 2 others.

The day really dragged. Art phoned and invited me over, but I put him off. Then mom phoned; she definitely is going to Vernon with Alex on the weekend.

Our cheques didn't come in today.

After work I waited for Bill, all day dreaming of my pot roast dinner to be bought. Well, he came ─ well after 8:30 p.m., professing to have worked late.

Yeah. 10 minutes, I later learned.

He'd run around buying hamburgers for himself and his mother. Then he picked up a female hitchhiker and took her to Middlegate. And he'd even gone home to change, answering Harry's phone call.

I wanted to eat, but let him persuade me into going over to visit Cathy, he buying 2 bottles of wine (well, 1 Red Devil, and a 4-pak of Lonesome Charlie).

He went out later that eve to buy 3 hamburgers & chips orders, but I refused to eat, or drink much.

Wendy came over.

I phoned Harry; we're to fish tomorrow.

This is the last Friday I'll let [myself] depend on Bill.

Bed at 1:30 a.m.
It was my old friend Philip David Prince who came by S.A.N.E. for an extended visit with me. He had his own room in New Westminster, but we did not see much of one another ─ I tended to avoid him.

I usually went home for lunch, so it was during that break that I headed over to Safeway with David where we parted company, firmly believing that I saw my younger brother Mark climbing into a yellow car that also had his girlfriend Jeanette's two little girls in the back seat.

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that mightn't have been much more than four blocks from my room. Bill had a nice car, so he was always our 'wheels.'

Bill also had a hooked-up telephone ─ a phone was a luxury I could not afford.

I had learned of a pot roast sale ─ I think I wrote that they were going for 69¢ a pound. Bill wanted in on the deal, so we had arranged that he would come by my room to pick me up and we would go shopping for them after we had both finished working that day.

I am unsure if Mike Schutz was working at S.A.N.E. or elsewhere. I liked the guy. He was  probably darned near 6½ feet tall, but was very lean.

The afternoon phone call at S.A.N.E. from Art Smith was from a former co-worker who had worked there ─ Art was in his early 40s, and loved to drink. But I had other plans for my evening ─ a fabulous pot roast supper!

The call from my mother Irene Dorosh was to confirm to me that she and her husband were heading up to Vernon to check out property prices.

Anyway, I got home after work, and began the wait for Bill.

Of course he would have claimed to have had to work late, but he couldn't help talking and saying too much, so I was soon to learn the full truth.

Middlegate ─ where he took the female hitchhiker ─ was a shopping plaza or centre at 7155 Kingsway in Burnaby:

The previous weekend, we had been drinking in the main hotel in Cloverdale, and I recognized an old school chum from when I went to Surrey Centre Elementary School during the second half of the 1950s.

This is in fact my Grade II class photo at that school, which would have been the 1956-1957 school term:

Harry is the blonde kid wearing suspenders, and seated just to the right of the school sign. I am three rows up and directly above that sign ─ I am also wearing suspenders, and my hair looks brushed straight up. 

But I am becoming most sidetracked.

Bill wanted to go over and visit my younger brother Mark's girlfriend with some drinks ─ Catherine Jeanette Gunther and Mark were living in a rented home that they shared, located on Bentley Road in Whalley.

Mark was working an afternoon / evening shift, so he was not going to be present.

From the sound of it, I had become petulant where Bill was concerned, and wanted nothing to do with his fast food; nor was I in the mood for much convivial socializing via drink.

Wendy Halverson ─ my young maternal cousin ─ made an unannounced visit. 


One final thing. 

Yesterday in this blog I was whining how over the course of that and the two preceding days, my hours and hours of work on my websites and the blog only earned me a measly 1¢ in total in my AdSense account.

Well. when I logged into the account today just prior to starting today's post, my account had somehow generated $2.56 ─ how can there be such a swing in value?!
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