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Saturday, May 27, 2017

The Latest on Health Dangers from Cellphones │ One in Three Medications Found to Be 'Risky' │ Common Pain Relievers Found to Increase Heart Attack Risk

My younger brother Mark passed out for a short while last evening as we watched T.V. Neither one of us gets a kick out of sitting up late anymore just to watch T.V., so at 11:00 p.m. he called it an evening and headed on upstairs to his bedroom.

This freed me up to also get to bed, and I believe that I was into it by 11:08 p.m.

A typical night of broken sleep. I remember at one break being reluctant to get up to use the bathroom and drink some water out of concern of disturbing Mark ─ and then it dawned upon me that we were into the weekend and he did not have to rise early for work.

I started my day this morning at 6:30 a.m., soon getting to work on the post I am putting together at my Latin Impressions website. Mark had risen before I had quite performed all of the allotted work I had intended on the post for today.

When I did complete that targeted amount of work, I had ─ as too often is usual ─ declined, and was keen on a return to bed for a nap. I believe that it was 10:16 a.m. once I was comfortably back in bed.

I napped and dreamed; and it may have been something like 11:24 a.m. when I rallied myself and rose. By then, Mark had apparently returned to bed for his own nap.

Finding myself to be distinctly hungry, I fixed myself up my first meal of the day, and I am still feeling rather filled by it as I type these words at 2:28 p.m. Mark has already left for the day, and had said that he was likely to be seeking out a relaxing setting to enjoy some sunshine for a time before he hooks up with his girlfriend Bev and his drinking buddies.

The day seems likely to be a throwaway where I am concerned. I won't be out lying upon the sundeck, and I certainly won't be trying for any exercise in the backyard tool shed ─ it will be too hot inside that shed, quite apart on how full I am feeling.

Both of my stepsons are home, and eldest stepson Tho had suggested that he might do some yard work ─ at a minimum, mow the lawn. There is a slim chance that I might yet seek to sit in the sunshine in the backyard for awhile, but I would prefer to do more than just sun my front.

It is strange, but after first rising early this morning, I felt rather able-bodied ─ I was desirous of my day's first mug of hot blended instant coffee / cocoa powder, but I was able to could conceive of having it in me to embark upon a goodly long walk.

However, even though there is so little reward for it, I had the duty of that website work. There would be no time in the afternoon for working at it ─ this blog sucks away all available afternoon time.

And I keep asking myself why I bother? I should forsake blogging, and become more physically active once again. AdSense certainly isn't sustaining me. In checking into my account balance just prior to commencing this post, I saw that one of my six hosted websites ─ My Retirement Dream ─ had generated 1¢ so far today, whereas I never accrued anything at all through my website nor this blog during the previous two entire days.

Why bother indeed ─ a cent in three days for the many hours I put in?

...Well, Tho has chosen mid-afternoon to get at that mowing. There is another project that will involve removal of some blackberry vines to facilitate accessing a wooden fence that has at least a couple of primary support posts that require replacing, but it will surprise me if he dares to tackle that job.

I have an old photo that I scanned and wish to post ─ the description beneath is from the Google album where I have the scan filed:

My mother Irene Dorosh.

I cannot guess where the photo was taken, but it certainly does not seem to be anywhere in British Columbia (Canada) ─ not with those apparent palms in the background. And is she not looking up into a citrus fruit tree?

The dating could be from the late 1960s to anytime during the decade of the 1970s.

Cellphone users certainly are reluctant to hear or read information identifying how harmful their phones really are ─ these devotees do not care to even learn about and employ recommended safeguards, so determined are they to know absolutely nothing of any of the potential harms.

Here are a couple of recent reports for the very few people who might actually look at the articles:



I am in no wise a nomophobe, but I at least understand how difficult it is for so many people to discover that they are no longer in possession of their phone ─ whether they have forgotten it somewhere, or however they are without it. Maybe their phone has been carelessly allowed to just run out of juice.

I find myself somewhat uncomfortable to find that I have left home without my functioning phone, but that is only because of concern of missing a call from my wife Jack. The only other three people I will answer a call from are my two stepsons and my younger brother Mark.

I have never used my phone to listen to music or watch videos ─ not even once. Nor do I have it linked up to Facebook, nor my E-mail account.

Apart from calls and texts with the aforementioned four people, the only other purpose I use my phone for is to read the time.

At night when my wife is staying in Vancouver, I leave my phone on the floor beside my bed, but I am wondering if maybe that is nearly as bad as having it on a bedside night-table? Maybe I will make an effort to leave it on the dresser after this, if I remember to think of it.


Just how dangerous are medications ─ overall, that is?

Well, it's bad. It's almost like playing Russian roulette with a gun that only has three bullet chambers in the cylinder.

Note these recent reports:





And now the FDA is looking to accelerate the approval of new medications?


I am so pleased that I am not on any sort of prescription.


Now expanding on medication risks, recent research has discovered that common painkillers like what you most likely have in your own home elevate the risk of initiating a heart attack.

Here are some reports about this:





Naturally there are plenty of physicians willing to step forth and minimize the threat ─ after all, they likely recommend or prescribe the painkillers to their own patients. One article stated this, based upon what one 'authority' not involved in the study said:
If risk was already low in a person, a 20% to 50% increased risk is not that much cause for concern.
How many of us know beyond any doubt that we have not reached a stage in life where we are at risk of a heart attack, but have just not yet discovered the fact? Heart attacks strike people every day who never had one before, and were sure not expecting to have one.

And remember, this is just the latest bad discovery about these medications. What else is ahead awaiting uncovering?


I saw that Tho made a stab at cutting out some of the blackberry vines, but he quickly abandoned the task and settled upon lawn-mowing.

I have spent the day inside, alas. But more sunny days are directly ahead, and ─ after all ─ I was not home alone. Had I been, I am confident that I would have had a different sort of day.

I am closing off 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 tiny suite was being rented in a house located on Ninth Street, and maybe two houses up from Third Avenue.

Just a few weeks earlier, I had been hired full-time ─ perhaps on a three- or even four-month contract ─ by a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Eds) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society.

I had previous history with the organization ─ for possibly close to two years, I had often worked for them on a part-time basis, usually just a day a week. I had been a swamper on their blue pick-up truck.

But in my new role, I did not have that assignment ─ there were already a couple of young fellows performing that duty. So I found myself with practically nothing to fill my time ─ it was often arduous trying to pass the hours.

The day prior to this entry, young Dwayne Johnston or Johnson ─ one of the actual swampers ─ took it upon himself to buy lots of beer and liquor midday, and he and I got carried away partying. We carried it over to the home of an older former S.A.N.E. co-worker, Art Smith, who was in his early 40s.

He and his family were living in the bottom portion of a house they were renting that was not too very far from S.A.N.E. And S.A.N.E. itself was then located in an old building now gone, but which used to be situated right where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station spreads out onto Carnarvon Street.
THURSDAY, May 27, 1976

What a trap I'm in; I need to be free!

I was up before 6:00 a.m., somewhat hungover but mostly tired. 

I can't sleep any more. I spent from 8:20 a.m. - 9:20 a.m. resting up abed.

I worked on the truck this morning, with Took who has been hired to replace Eugene for a couple weeks.

Dwayne didn't work today, though he came around and shared a joint with me.

This was my most weary afternoon at S.A.N.E. yet, though little work was done; I was so sleepy I decided to come straight home and bed.

I roused about 7:45 p.m., a little over 2 hours after retiring, I guess. I am leaving for mom's about 8:00 p.m.; my second day without torso exercise.

Anyway, I stopped at Bill's place to tell him to pick me up tomorrow after work and we'd go buy pot roasts; I barely aroused enough drive to leave his place.

I got to mom's about 9:40 p.m. There was no mail. She might drop in at S.A.N.E. tomorrow.

On the weekend she & Alex might go to Vernon, seeking property values.

My bedtime is about 11:35 p.m.
"Took" was a likable Indigenous Canadian I had known casually through S.A.N.E. for maybe a couple of years. He was several years older than I. "Eugene" is lost to memory.

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that mightn't have been much more than four blocks from my room.

I truly marvel at my endurance, for it was no small matter to walk to my mother's home ─ which was my main mailing address. She and her husband Alex were living in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey ─ their little home is now gone, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue. 

A hike to get there from my room was about 1½ hours of rather rapid-paced walking. And since I say no differently, it would appear that I also walked back to my room afterward.

I have no idea how I was able to do this if I was as weary all day long as I described.

When I read about my younger self, it hurts me that I never got the breaks to get an early start at making something of my life. I had so much potential.

As I have often proclaimed, if the Internet had existed back then as it does today, my life would have been so different from what it is today that there could be no comparing the two.

But I was socially isolated, and knew very little of making my way in the world. I didn't have the social skills, and was also limited in that I never got my driver's licence. 

To this day, that has remained so.

And now I find myself feeling...sad.
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