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Monday, February 5, 2018

Would You Risk Botox Injections Just to Treat Bruxism?

As I had dreaded, my younger brother Mark arrived home from the bar last evening barely before 9:00 p.m., and absolutely disgustingly drunk.

In no time he was passed out in the living room, purportedly watching T.V. with me. And so I was treated to ongoing intrusions of his chokings, garglings, and coughings that were all attributable to his own spittle. 

He even launched into one of his five-minute sneezing fits whereby he lets loose a roar of a sneeze ever 15 or so seconds, each as loud as the last, until the air I had no choice but to inhale smelled of the beer he had swilled.

Once ─ right after the second or third such sneeze ─ he spoke loud enough to be heard in another room the words, "Did you get enough to eat, honey?"

In his brain-addled dementia, I reckon that he actually believed himself to be at the home of his girlfriend Bev.

I was so repelled by this unwanted intruder who was now in possession of my younger brother that I could not refrain from angrily snarling at the noisy buffoon, "Shut up!"

Naturally, he was wholly unaware, too caught up into his sneezing fit throughout which he never once opened his eyes.

I now fail to recall just when it was that he regained consciousness long enough to finish the mug of beer he had been holding unspilled all this while, but perhaps it was something like 10:40 p.m. that he headed on upstairs to his bedroom for the night.

First, though, my eldest stepson Tho intercepted Mark in the kitchen when Mark was rinsing out his beer mug, and Tho gave him a souvenir tee-shirt that Tho had picked up for Mark in Indonesia during the nearly nine days that Tho and his younger brother Poté were away to Bali.

Tho had earlier given me a tank top as I watched T.V., but at that time Mark was of course utterly unconscious.

I had to correct Tho at least twice that Mark was not "sleeping" as Tho had termed Mark's state ─ rather, Mark was instead and most definitely "passed out."

There is a world of difference.  

However foul Mark may have felt around 4:00 a.m. this morning when he had to get up to begin readying for work would be utterly deserved.

I must have gotten to bed last night right around 11:00 p.m., I estimate.

And during the midnight hour my first break in sleep had already resulted, betokening how the remainder of my night was to progress.

I could have risen this morning shortly after 5:00 a.m., for Mark is usually gone no later than the arrival of that hour. But I felt it to be just a little too early ─ I was nurturing hope of getting out this morning to do some grocery shopping, and that would only be likely if I was well slept.

So I sought another stretch of sleep.

When next I checked the time, it appeared to me to be 6:31 a.m. ─ I would have preferred it to have been an hour later, but I opted to rise anyway.

It was not too long thereafter as I was here at my computer and noticed the time on its screen that I realized that I had misread the clock ─ it must have actually only been 5:31 a.m. 

If I had managed any further sleep after the previous time check, then it was the shortest of naps.

I had all of the evidence that I needed to prove to me that my eldest stepson Tho had not bothered getting up to go to work ─ the bathroom sink counter was dry. He always badly slops it up in the morning.

So I understood that I was not to have this day at home to myself as I had much desired.

His younger brother Poté ─ who was still up last night when I went to bed ─ was to dutifully get himself up awhile after 7:00 a.m., and at 7:44 a.m. headed out the door to drive himself to work.

I was busy adding content to the post that I had set up yesterday morning at Amatsu Okiya, one of my six hosted websites. 

I was more than half-finished the content assignment that I had set out for myself this morning, when I noticed something very fishy about one of the references I was about to add to the post.

I already knew that it was one of my own references, for sometimes the post topic I may be working on will arbitrarily lead me into finding one of my own posts as a source reference. 

But the closer I examined this reference that was actually a Google Plus post, the more peculiar things seemed ─ the post was not only referencing my Amatsu Okiya website, but it seemed to be referencing the very post that I was presently busily constructing.

How on Earth could that be?

So I clicked the Google Plus post's reference link, and I was brought to a post at Amatsu Okiya that had published back in November ─ it was bearing the exact title of the new post that I was now into my second day of constructing.  

Too often, the topics I randomly come up with are redundant in that it sometimes seems that I already was involved in the topic in some recent month.

That had been the case at outset when I began working on this latest post yesterday, but I persevered anyway ─ as I said, it sometimes does happen that I had already quite recently posted about the same topic under a similar title; but there is always sufficient difference that the material I will assemble will also have sufficient differentiation from the earlier post.

But this was the very same five-word title ─ not some similar title. And as a result, I was essentially just recreating the previous post.

Everything I had built up yesterday, and most of what I had supplied this morning, was sheer wasted time. I was going to have to delete everything and set upon some new topic.

It had been my hope to get back to bed for a reasonably early nap, but now I was faced with spending what amounts to be a normal morning's work ─ all on top of the time I had already fruitlessly expended.

Resigned, I did just that.

And so it was that I was not finally free for a nap until the arrival of the noon-hour. 

Unfortunately, I felt too hungry by then, so I had a breakfast before making that return to bed.

That of course lost me some of my afternoon, for I ended up lolling there in bed for at least 100 minutes before checking the time after a few stretches of naps, and even then I had to compel myself to get up ─ it just felt too good lying there in the comfort of my bed.

But by then, it was long past 2:00 p.m.

Tho ─ who had gotten up well before I sought my nap ─ was soon to head out somewhere. He never took his mother's car (she is holidaying back in the family home village in Thailand), so I suspect that he must have been picked up by his girlfriend.

The day remains wet outside. Anytime it rains, the rain must be very slight, for I have yet to notice any falling.

I must try and find the inner vital resources to hie me outside to the backyard tool shed for some exercise there, for the only exercise I benefited from yesterday was the four-mile round-trip hike to the government liquor store for two dozen cans of beer very late in the afternoon.  

However, I still do not feel to be my normal self ─ even my eyes are somewhat burning from inadequate sleep, however that can be.

And that light pre-nap breakfast still weighs rather heavily within me. 

Perhaps I will kill a little more time before giving it a shot, and bring to your attention three reports about a recently published small study claiming to have found that Botox injections seem to reduce bruxism.

I am certain that I likely engage in the grinding of my teeth, even if I do not believe that it is any kind of habit. But how can I know without studiously recording myself every single night? 

Nevertheless, I am 68 years old now, so I have no symptoms that I am aware of that exhibit any need for me to receive medical attention for bruxism if I indeed do engage in it.

Would you undergo Botox injections as a treatment for yourself?

Whether you would or not, here are the three reports about the study:

JacksDailyDose.com

MedicalNewsToday.com

Consumer.HealthDay.com

This potential use of Botox is not a new idea. I made a small search about the subject, and found articles stretching back to 2009, so it isn't going to surprise me if the notion is even older than that.

Pharmaceutical companies gotta make their big bucks, after all.

Even if people get badly hurt...or worse.

By the way, I did take a break and had that shed exercise. The afternoon sky had become quite clear by then.

Since the dawning of 2018 here in my part of Surrey, we have yet to experience any frost. Are we to get through Winter without any?

As I mentioned a little earlier, my wife Jack is over in Thailand in order to have an extended visit with her mother. Jack left Canada fairly early in January, and is not due to leave Thailand until (I think) February 5. In all, it's to be approximately a seven-week holiday.

I checked her Facebook account today and found her latest photo uploads. So I downloaded a select batch and had them enlarged, and will now post them here.

Incidentally, her home village is Nong Soong, which is maybe a 15-minute drive from Udon Thani. All I can tell you about the photos is that they may have been taken during a visit to some of her in-laws ─ whoever they may be.

I was very select in choosing the photos and did not actually choose any ─ with but two exceptions ─ that presented anyone but Jack. And I have no idea who the two people are in the two photos profiling these people with Jack.

Here are the photos I selected from Jack's Facebook posts over the past 24 hours:











She certainly looks beautifully happy. And I'm glad of that.

My afternoon is wearing away, so I am going to close now with this old journal entry of mine from 41 years ago when I was 27 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting in a private home located on Ninth Street, and just two houses up from Third Avenue.

In store that day would be a hike out to the duplex unit that my younger brother Mark was renting a fairly short distance down Semiahmoo Road from where it attaches to Old Yale Road out in Surrey.

I had access to the suite, whether or not Mark was home, and I was coming to be very comfortable hanging out there ─ this had been going on for perhaps at least two months.
SATURDAY, February 5, 1977

My first day of food abuse; hereafter I shall mainly fast and adhere to raw foods.

Today I shall mail an entry to the Special K cruise sweepstakes, a $10 money order to B.C. Wildlife Federation for 5 Western Express and 1 Provincial Lottery tickets, and a $5 money order to St. Joseph's School for the pouch of Western Express Lottery tickets they credited me; I'll also be sending in a $30 tithe.

At 8:00 a.m. I bedded, arising again about 9:40 a.m.

I spent $2.95 on vegetables at Safeway. I next went to Woodward's and bought a money order; then I visited the library for quite some time, at last renewing my card.

I'm leaving for Mark's at nigh 11:50 a.m.

*****

He wasn't home.

I really gorged myself, but that's all in the past now, for I hope to remain quite true to my raw foods diet.

Around 3:15 p.m. I answered some knocking; it was Garry Porteous, who then summoned Cathy from the car.

They stayed till 5:00 p.m.

During that time, Bill phoned. He was in St. Mary's Hospital, having been driven there in his car by mom, who kept it; his operation is to be Monday.  

Near 5:30 p.m. I laid [sic] down, arising past 6:30 p.m. when Mark came home.

He seemed fairly tired.

He went out again about 7:40 p.m.

I stayed up late last night watching Night Terror with Valerie Harper; tonight I watched Sean Connery's You Only Live Twice, and The Terminal Man with George Segel (or however it's spelled) and Joan Hackett

It was about 3:45 a.m. when I laid [sic] down on the couch; Mark came quietly in about 5:00 a.m.

I roused again around 6:00 a.m. and was soon thereafter headed home to town, arriving about 7:15 a.m.

I'll retire here c. 7:45 a.m.
I just about always went on a food binge just before I attempted some restrictive diet. I don't remember this specific dietary attempt, but I have no doubt that it was short-lived.

Incidentally, concerning the shopping I did that morning ─ Safeway and Woodward's were nowhere near one another. To shop at both meant a bit of a hike in itself.

Garry Porteous was Mark;s best friend for many years. To this day, I have no real idea why they drifted apart ─ maybe in the latter 1980s. It isn't as if one of them moved far away.

Cathy or Kathy was Garry's girlfriend.

My old friend William Alan Gill was about to undergo gastric bypass surgery, and it was going to spell the ruin of his life. He would never work again, losing his job at Royal City Foods cannery, and having to accept their injunction that he needed to apply for a Canada (Disability) Pension.

Folks, diet rather than take this type of surgery. Go for the low carbohydrate diet ─ there is no need to starve yourself each day by reducing overall calories to a torturous level. It is the carbohydrate calories bringing on all the ills.

St. Mary's Hospital in New Westminster no longer exists. This brief description of its history is from Archives.NewWestCity.ca (St. Mary's Hospital fonds - Record Detail):
Saint Mary's Hospital was founded in 1886 by the Sisters of Providence, and opened its doors in 1887, and was officially incorporated by the BC Government. The hospital was run by the Sisters of Providence and medical staff they employed. The hospital was moved and reconstructed in 1959. It closed its doors permanently in 2004. 
I see that one of the movies I watched that night featured George Segal ─ the handsome young actor he was then is now the well-meaning, advice-giving, lovable old senior known affectionately by his three grandchildren as "Pops" on The Goldbergs.
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