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Monday, June 19, 2017

Sleep Deprivation May Result in the Brain Literally Destroying Parts of Itself │ Meditation Is Not for All │ Imitation Wines

My younger brother Mark was examining the undersides of his eyelids through the first 75% or so of the lead programme I tuned in last evening ─ the season finale of Jessica Jones. But at least he got to see what I have long awaited ─ the killing of evil mind-controller Kilgrave.

There are some long-running villains in certain series whom I become utterly weary of, and he was such a one. I wanted him gone, and now that has finally been done.

Mark remained vigilant for the two programmes that I tuned in thereafter.

After he finally called it an evening and headed on upstairs to his bedroom for the night with a workday before him, I had some delay in getting to bed because my eldest stepson Tho was having an inexplicably late start at showering before himself getting to bed.

I was unable to retire without that final use of the bathroom, so I had to await his convenience. As I recall, it was 11:03 p.m. by the time I was in bed.

I had been half-expecting that my wife Jack would be showing up from Vancouver, for when she was last here a few days ago she said that she would be back to take Tho to an appointment with a lawyer on Monday.

And I expected Tho to be taking Monday off work.

But neither scenario played out. What I am expecting now is that she will pick him up from work for what is probably an afternoon appointment.

Tho is serving a year-long driving suspension, and as a consequence sold his car. However, the lawyer appointment involves another matter.

It is 2:20 p.m. at this very moment, and I am still home alone.

But returning to my night's sleep ─ which was very broken, as usual ─ I learned just today of yet a new threat arising from inadequate sleep.

However, before I get to that, I have to report that my wife Jack interrupted me with a phone call, requesting that I take from the fridge icebox a couple of packages of meat that she identified for me. When I confirmed that I had located both, she thanked me, and said that she would "see you guys tonight."

She sounded very sleepy, so must have just gotten up.

Obviously she will not be coming home this afternoon, nor be taking Tho anywhere today ─ he must be having a full day of work.

Well, maybe Jack originally meant that she would be home today or tonight in order to take him to an appointment that he may have tomorrow?

Clearly, I sure don't know.

Anyway, back to the sleep issue.

It seems that ─ from what has been learned through research on mice ─ there are certain brain cells called astrocytes, and others called microglial cells ─ that are involved in the 'housecleaning' that goes on in the brain when we sleep.

But the research with the mice has found that with inadequate sleep, the astrocytes seem to accelerate their task of pruning superfluous brain synapses; and the microglial cells may well be destroying and devouring more than just the worn-out cells and other brain cellular debris:



Of course the damage of one bad night isn't going to be noticeably brain-changing, but keep it up and a price will eventually be paid if this is indeed what is going on in us as well as in research mice. 

Something else I read about today that is marginally related concerns meditation ─ it's supposed to be of benefit to all who embrace it.

Well, apparently not everyone will necessarily have positive benefits:



Nevertheless, I keenly wish that I had the lifestyle and the environment that would encourage me to practice meditation, but I do not. 

Anyway, despite my night's broken sleep, I believe that I was out of bed ahead of 6:30 a.m. this morning. My youngest stepson Poté was still home and in bed, but he soon rose and headed out the front door just before 7:30 a.m. to drive himself to work.

I was involved supplying further content to the post I am working on at my Lawless Spirit website; and when I had achieved the amount of work I had targeted for today, it was time for a nap ─ and not even yet quite 9:30 a.m.

Computer work is damaging me more and more ─ my eyes are in dreadful condition. Even a night in bed does not restore them very much.

I don't know what I can do. I sometimes fear that I have declined too far to be able to effectively recover much well-being.

I am still considering taking up long walks once school is out and all of the students are not flooding the streets at key hours throughout the weekdays. But if I do undertake such a thing early in July, it will require me to dramatically cut back on blogging. I just will not have the time for it.

I so wish that I were not the prisoner of debt that I am. Is this how I am to finish and die?

If it is, then I at least wish that I could afford to drink as much as I might feel like doing on any given day...but I cannot.

Yet I feel that drinking would be resulting in less harm to my health than is blogging ─ the hours and hours I waste daily, sometimes without even 1¢ in my AdSense account to show for it. Far better would it be for my health to be out on some long walk, returning home to nap; or maybe vegetate in front of the T.V. with some drink ─ and then a nap!  

Concerning drinking, I read a discouraging article today on the topic of cheap wine ─ 'tis the only wine I can afford, alas:


The article put me onto a bit of research, so I located these older articles:

Discouraging, what? 

Especially since there is no requirement to put a fully-disclosed ingredients label on a bottle. (Or box.)

I have been contending with another of those vague headaches this afternoon, so I want to get today's post over with. First, though, I want to post the following old image ─ the description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the scanned image filed:

My mother Irene Dorosh went with her husband Alex on chartered tours to the U.S.S.R. several times in the 1970s and 1980s.

My suspicion is that this photo is from one such trip.

That is Alex in the centre.

My mother wrote on the reverse of the photo:

"Alex with Larissa Kerilova & son Andy"

I cannot vouch for whether her spelling was entirely correct.
And now here is where I close 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 the small space in a house on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

The evening before, I had foolishly undertaken an 8:00 p.m. nap that took me up to 9:30 p.m. I wrote a wee bit into my journal, and then returned to bed.
SATURDAY, June 19, 1976

It took me 3 or 4 or more hours to get back to sleep last night; what a long muggy night! I got up at 6:00 a.m., but awakened earlier.

I typed up Terri a letter I plan to mail on my way to mom's for a mail check; it is possible her sister Pheme (?) may be visiting.

I'm not in a walking mood, however, so I'll just hang around here waiting for Bill to come by, if he does.

From about noon - 2:00 p.m. I slept off and on, and had an awful time forsaking the luxury of my bed.

I wanted to sun this week-end, but the morning's cloud boded no favour. Thus I was banking on tomorrow, only to arise after my nap and discover the sky gloriously blue; tomorrow's latest forecast is for cloud, however, so it seems I've lost my chance. 

Mark visited me, inviting me to join him, Cathy & her brother at the Best; then I would sup with them and thereafter attend a party at Nell's (Gail & Eugene are to be there). But I declined. I'm not able to afford much, I've a chicken and vegetables cooking, I'm trying to cut out drinking and much hate late hours with the hangover-like after-effects, and I'm not happy about explaining my absence at Haulaway to those curious at Nell's.

Too, I want to possibly go over to mom's tonight, gaining some calorie loss, and I just might get a chance to sun tomorrow, weather report notwithstanding.

As I suspected, Bill was with them and the guys from Nell's at the Royal Towers last night.

Mark visited here over an hour.

Now that Bill has abandoned me to TV-less week-ends, my time sure seems futile.

Or so it seemed. He did come over sometime after 5:00 p.m., I guess. Both he & Mark led me to believe they were hotly arguing about Bill's planned operation.

Anyway, Bill went over to see Allan awhile, leaving me to finish my chicken stew. He's to come back for my typewriter (for Cathy) and me (to watch TV at his place). He'll take home his mother, then head off to Mark's and, ultimately, Nell's party.

And so it happened, more or less. Bed at 11:15 p.m.

If Bill hospitalizes himself, he suggested I might stay at his place during the time. 
Clearly, I never made the 1½-hour hike out to visit my mother and check for mail ─ her Surrey home was my main mailing address.

I expect that Mark's visit, and then Bill's awhile later, deflected me from the evening trek I had considered making out to my mother's home.

The letter I typed in the morning was to an American pen-pal, Terri Martin.

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite, maybe no more than four or so blocks from my room. Bill had a car and a good-sized colour T.V. with cablevision. It's possible that my smaller black & white T.V. wasn't working any longer; but even if it was, I had to rely upon limited reception via its built in rabbit ears antenna. 

If I had no T.V. to watch, then life in my room would have been exceedingly boring.

Of late, Bill seemed to be spending a heck of a lot of time hanging out at the home of my younger brother Mark and Mark's girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther. The couple were renting a home located on Bentley Road in Whalley.

It was always something of a surprise whenever my brother Mark came by for a visit. It's odd that I cannot quite place the location of the Best Hotel where Mark and the others were planning on going to do some beer-drinking. I don't remember this particular visiting brother of Jeanette's, either ─ only a much younger brother who was far from drinking age. 

Her family home was back in Saskatchewan.

Mark ventured that ─ after drinking at the Best Hotel ─ they would all have supper, and then head on over to the home of our maternal Aunt Nell Halverson. She had a huge household, and any weekend was practically one long party.

I was avoiding my relatives because one of my cousins and another member of the household had arranged for me to get some temporary part-time work with Haulaway or Haul-Away ─ the company that then had the contract for collecting trash. I was supposed to get myself out to Surrey very early on a Tuesday morning where the company had its base, and get to work on one of the trucks.

Well, I was already employed full-time on a three-month contract in New Westminster. And I was so darned uptight about the prospect of this alternate work ─ particularly since I had no transportation to get out to the Surrey location. At least the job I had was within easy walking distance ─ I would walk home for lunch, in fact. 

So, since I had no telephone to call anyone at Nell's, I had gone to bed the night before I was supposed to show up at Haulaway...and decided that Haulaway just was not feasible for me.

And now I figured that it was best that I avoid one and all at Nell's home.

"Gail & Eugene" were a couple visiting at Nell's from Calgary ─ Gail was another maternal cousin of mine.

I further learned from Mark that a group of them ─ including my friend Bill ─ had the evening before been drinking in the Royal Towers Hotel beer parlour or pub, which was located at Royal Avenue & Sixth Street in New Westminster. That old hotel is now some kind of apartment building.

It was actually the very first public establishment in which I had a beer ─ that was sometime in 1970.

Anyway, Bill came by late that afternoon for a short time, and then left to visit Al Varga ─ Al and his wife Marie were renting an apartment in New Westminster, and were friends of my relatives the Halversons.

Apparently Bill returned for me and to borrow my Brother Deluxe portable typewriter for Mark's Girlfriend Jeanette. Bill's mother Anne Gregory was almost always at his suite on weekends, so he was to drive her back to her rental in Maillardville. That spared me some interrupting conversation that undoubtedly would have taken place had Anne remained behind with me. 

And I would be left alone to enjoy some colour T.V. The apartment door was simple to lock without a key, so I would close up when I later left to go back to my room for the night.

The surgery Bill was facing was an intestinal by-pass operation that essentially ruined his life.

I need to lie down again ─ my vague headache has become quite the nag now. I am fairly sure that it is due to eyestrain...but one never really knows.
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