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Friday, March 30, 2018

Certain Stomach Acid Medications Are Associated with Depression

My bedtime last night was ─ if I am remembering correctly ─ as late as at least around 12:20 a.m.

My wife Jack had worked in Langley that day at her friend Fanta's restaurant, and did not make it home until after 10:30 p.m.

My younger brother Mark struggled against unconsciousness after he had gotten home from the bar and settled in to watch some T.V., leading off with an episode of Once Upon a Time.

I continue to watch that series, but only out of loyalty. Actually, the big draw for me has essentially boiled down to getting to watch actress Lana Parrilla when she's playing her 'good' persona Regina Mills ─ I don't like her Evil Queen at all. In fact, if she was exclusively the Evil Queen, I mightn't be watching anymore.

The woman is smoulderin' hot, by my estimation!

It was during this episode that Mark had his struggle remaining conscious.

After the episode, I fooled him by tuning in a 2014 movie called Nightcrawler. He kept expecting that it was a horror movie, or maybe science fiction, and that the main character was an alien or something trying to pass as human.

My wife Jack joined us quite late into the movie, claiming that she was certain that she had seen it before, and she did give a decent description of what she remembered of it.

For the type of movie that it was, its duration was unexpectedly long ─ almost two hours (but of course, that always includes the credits, which can run several minutes).

She also watched the next show I tuned in ─ an episode of the comedy Ghosted. However, she forsook the episode of Zapped that I ended the evening with for Mark and I.

Once I was to bed, Jack was not too much longer. But I had quite a bad night of it.

I was exceedingly uncomfortable ahead of 5:00 a.m., and I had even contemplated getting up to work on the post I am constructing at Latin Impressions, one of my six hosted websites.

I sat up and had a good drink of water from the mug by the side of my bed; and I also rose and used the toilet. However, I realized that it would most likely be sheer folly to try and start my morning feeling as I did. After all, I would be unable to nap anytime soon.

And so I returned to bed and did my best to descend into a little further sleep.

When next I checked the time it was well after 6:00 a.m., so I hauled my unwell carcass from the bedroom and got to work on that Latin Impressions post, ultimately adding another 1½ average mornings' worth of content to it.

I first heard Mark moving around in his bedroom at 8:08 a.m. as he commenced his day. My youngest stepson Poté had to work today, so he was up ─ in fact, he had already sneaked out and met up with his girlfriend, coming back home with her (they each have their own car, and happen to work at the same business).

They left for the job after Mark was downstairs and fussing about in the kitchen.

My wife Jack had risen and was busy in the bathroom once I finished work on the post, so I went downstairs to socialize a little with Mark.

He would be leaving us to head over to Vancouver Island to visit his friend Frank and Frank's wife Sandra. Typically, Mark parks his van at the ferry terminal and rides across as a foot passenger, and Frank picks Mark up at the other side of the long cruise.

Mark will be away until sometime on Monday.

Jack headed away late in the morning to do some shopping, and Mark left within minutes of her.

And I soon crashed ─ my eldest stepson Tho was up by then. I went back to my bed and covered up fully clothed, merely donning a blindfold and seeking to rest as deeply as I could. I am unsure if I napped or not, and may not have been in bed for an hour. Whatever the case, I definitely did not feel greatly restored.

It was not much later that Jack had returned, and her eldest son Tho was alerted to give her a hand bringing in her groceries. 

The morning had been quite overcast and chilly, for we had some light rain overnight. But the afternoon slowly became ever more sunny.

Jack had to work later in the afternoon at her friend Ui's Thai restaurant in Vancouver, so she left me ─ possibly around mid-afternoon. Tho had gone out earlier.

Although Jack did not indicate when she would be back, I am not expecting her earlier than Sunday ─ and possibly not until late Monday evening if she has to work that day in Langley, as I believe that she does.

I had felt so ill-rested after lying down midday that the best I thought myself capable of today for any exercise out in the backyard tool shed would be just a token set of pull-ups. However, after fixing up my day's third hot beverage and then tuning in UFC 222 just to scroll through and watch the Cris Cyborg vs. Yana Kunitskaya match, I felt sufficiently at what passes for normal for me at this stage of my life that I had the full complement of four exercises out there that are my current regimen.

And I felt quite strong, too.

As I have passed the latter afternoon here by myself at home, I have again begun pondering whether I should just cease taking the time and effort that it does take to post into this blog any longer.

I have been giving this some serious consideration of late.

If I abandoned this blog, it would more than double the amount of time that I could spend on my six hosted websites, for posts here tend to take longer than the amount of time I devote each morning to a post at one of those six websites.

Perhaps it would be best if my blog and I simply sank into utter obscurity.

Still, it would be kind of cool to keep at it until the very day in the coming September that will mark precisely a full decade since I first began this blog.

My very first post was September 26, 2008. And since then...well, after publishing today's post, my total thus far will tally out at at 2,420 posts.

How many bloggers can make anywhere near such a claim ─ not just in number of posts, but also in the active duration of their blog?

So I haven't reached a decision yet ─ frankly, I hate to quit before achieving that full decade milestone.

But who the heck really cares, right? I have little doubt that even by then, this pathetic blog still won't have even one follower.

No matter. The decision is mine to make, after all.

Depressing stuff.

Oh, well ─ at least I am not a heartburn sufferer.

I read today that research has found evidence that people who take those proton-pump inhibitors (PPIs) to quell those stomach fires can be dangerously depressed.

And that's on top of an amazing list of dangerous troubles these drugs can punish their often-addicted users with.

Here are some reports about the depression:

JacksDailyDose.com

MedicalNewsToday.com

DailyMail.co.uk

Lord, I sure don't need any extra reasons to make me depressed ─ and I think severe chronic indigestion would be enough for that entirely on its own.

Okay, some happier visuals now.

I couldn't afford to go, but back in the latter part of January and over into February, my two stepsons took two weeks off work and flew to Bali.

Their mother Jack had earlier gone back to Thailand to enjoy an extended holiday with her mother ─ the family home is in the large village of Nong Soong, which is maybe a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

The plan was for Jack and five of her family members to fly from Thailand to Bali so that the family members could enjoy a reunion with the lads who had not been back to Thailand since 2009, and now cannot go back due to military conscription concerns.

Anyway, here are a pair of photos that were taken in Bali on January 27. They feature from the left my wife's two sons ─ brawny older son Tho, and his younger brother Poté ─ along with their older cousin Mark at the right wearing the black tee-shirt:



Long after the two brothers were back here in Surrey, their mother was still in Thailand and got to attend the February 25 wedding of her niece ─ the sister of Mark in the two photos above.

Here are a pair of photos each of the bride and then the groom, and which were taken on the morning of the wedding day by Mark, the bride's brother:





Now here to close out today's post is an 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 [Google map], and two houses up from Third Avenue.
WEDNESDAY, March 30, 1977

Things were cool last night (it's been falling to freezing and lower, these cloudless nights).

I had the laundromat wholly to myself this morning, and spent 90¢ on comics.

Next I set off for Safeway and was laid up 15 minutes or so by Eric outside his place; I said I'd give him Nell's new phone number Friday; outside Safeway, I spoke with crazy Joe. He asked for 35¢, but before I recalled how money-mad he is, I had given him 5¢. 

I spent $2.16 in the store.

[I have no memory anymore of who "crazy Joe" was. Even a nickle was more than I cared to fruitlessly part with back in those sparse years. As for Eric, he was an older chap who was something of a family friend to my maternal Aunt Nell Halverson and her very large household, who were living in various rentals back then in Surrey.]

I typed up Terri a letter to be mailed tomorrow afternoon.

[Terri Martin was a U.S. pen-pal I had back then whom I now regret losing touch with.]

I discovered a letter from Jean in X-Men #105

[Jean M. Martin, née Black was another of my U.S. pen-pals of that time. The two gals were Marvel Comics fans and had contacted me after seeing fan letters of my own in past Marvel super-hero comics. Neither young lady knew the other, incidentally ─ they were not related.]

I didn't get the leg exercises (nor sunshine) I had planned to, for I felt again like I had too much to do here, and some paranoia too. It remains to be seen if I shall make account for this in the dawn hours tomorrow.

I uncovered an old letter in a drawer that I had written Melody a little better than a week after my 27th birthday. It began very well, grammatically speaking; far superior to the blundering job of butchery I've done to the English language in these pages. 

[Twenty-year-old Melody St. Jean was my quite recent ex-girlfriend back then.]

I shall retire at 9:00 p.m., hoping to sleep soundly and arise early the morrow.
Returning to the present, the day here actually became quite sunny.
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