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Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Over-the-Counter Pain Medications Proven to Be Every Bit as Effective as Prescription Opioids │ Acetaminophen Continues to Wreak Havoc

My wife Jack was home just after 10:30 p.m. last evening after having worked the day in Langley at her friend Fanta's Thai restaurant.

My younger brother Mark was conscious by then. Earlier, he had passed out at the dining table after having some supper, essentially oblivious to the season premiere of iZombie that I had tuned in; and then when the episode was done and I had tuned in an episode of Blindspot, he came into the living room, sat in his chair, and passed out again until that episode, too, was done.

Nevertheless, upon regaining his senses, he seemed to make up for the drinking time that had been lost by wolfing down a succession of further beers, and sitting up until 12:30 a.m.. By then I had tuned in two further episodes of different action series, plus an episode of a comedy series. 

Just prior to that latter show, he had wasted a half-hour blabbing ─ to my stepson Poté, to my wife Jack, and to me. He just seemed unable to contain himself, and undoubtedly thought that he was the embodiment of sheer wit.

Today, I would be surprised if he recalled anything of what had been on T.V., or what it was that he so needed to become conversationally involved in ─ and consistently overspeaking everyone as he mightily exercised his inebriated notion of jocularity.

I feel bad for him that he becomes like this, unable to manage his drinking. But at least Jack didn't find him to be odious.

I now forget just when I made it to bed, but I suppose that it isn't too improbable that it may have been near or around 1:00 a.m. Jack sat up awhile longer because she wanted to use my computer to log in to her Facebook account.

I was still awake when she came to bed, but I didn't bother checking the time.

My sleep is typically fragmented; and when at last I checked the time at 5:59 a.m., I decided to start my morning.

My eldest stepson Tho never bothered getting up for work. It's possible that he went late in the morning, but I certainly do not know his destination. By then, he had benefited from what sounded to be some Thai haranguing from his mother, for she was finally up.

I think this was one of Poté's days off work ─ Wednesday often is.

I managed to put in an average morning's work on the new post I had begun setting up yesterday at Latin Impressions, one of my six hosted websites. This is my poorest-performing website where the attraction of visitors is concerned ─ according to WordPress, in the previous 28 days, six of those days registered as having absolutely no visitors. 

And three of those days were a consecutive block of time ─ that's atrocious, really.

I heard Mark stomping around in his bedroom at 8:18 a.m. as he began his morning (he is quite newly retired). He returned to bed later in the morning for a nap because it turned out that he had a noon appointment, perhaps relating to his personal pension fund at the credit union we both belong to.

He never did return from that appointment, so I hope this does not mean that he will be getting an early start on his drinking today.

I think that Jack may have had to work in Vancouver later today ─ she left just ahead of 2:45 p.m., saying that she would be back tomorrow. I am supposing that she will have to work in Langley tomorrow, and so she will show up here at home late that evening.

She still has a troublesome right foot, but she said that it is improving. Apparently something occurred to it Friday two weekends ago, and she awoke that Saturday morning practically crippled from her pain.

She said there was numbness, as well.

A doctor she saw sometime fairly early last week just ascribed it as likely arising due to some problem in her lower back, and prescribed some sort of pain medication ─ a prescription that Jack said she has not bothered getting filled, and has no intention of doing so.

I don't know what the product is, but she said that it is an opioid, and she could make money from it by selling it "on the street." This was something she was told by some friend of hers.

She has been settling for Advil when the pain becomes too much.

I would prefer that she not even do that, but of course I do not know what level of pain her foot has been causing her. At least I am glad that she is steering clear of prescription pain medication.

I read something today, though, that makes her pain-killer choice surprisingly astute from the perspective of cost and efficacy in relation to a prescribed opioid ─ research has uncovered that the latter drugs are actually less able to provide the sought relief from pain than are non-prescription painkillers:

JacksDailyDose.com

These next two reports about the study are essentially the same report that has been just slightly reworked:

CBC.ca

Boston.CBSlocal.com

If this is the truth, then there is absolutely no point in opioid medications existing and being marketed!

But don't become overzealous about taking those cheaper over-the-counter pain medications ─ especially if they contain acetaminophen. Note these reports on yet another study sounding a very loud alarm:

HSIonline.com

Consumer.HealthDay.com

Most people take the various painkillers just for nagging, annoying pain ─ not because they have pain approaching the unbearable.

Why have we become such generally soft weaklings?

It's pathetic.

Anyway, back to my day ─ while my brother Mark was having his late morning nap, Jack left to do some grocery shopping at Henlong here in Surrey.

And then when he left, I was in considerable need of whatever nap I could derive, so I returned to bed fully clothed and just lay there under the covers ─ with earplugs and a blindfold ─ for possibly an hour.

I should mention that my bedroom is uncomfortably chilly ─ the window is open at least a foot wide.

I didn't manage much of a nap, for I never did other than remain upon my back.

And when I rose, I found Jack busy downstairs in the kitchen, preparing a couple of dishes to leave for us to enjoy.

I am definitely feeling short on sleep today, and occasionally my left lower eyelid twitches.

And so it was that when I finally went out to the backyard tool shed around 4:30 p.m. to perform some token exercises, all I bothered with was a single set of pull-ups.

When I weighed myself here in the house afterward, dressed just as I was when I did the pull-ups, I registered about 195 pounds.

It sure ain't easy hauling that amount of weight up and down at the age of 68, and a height of five feet and 10¾ inches.

A topic change now!

My wife Jack returned to her Thailand family home in the village of Nong Soong this past January to enjoy an extended visit with her mother and other family and friends.

Nong Soong is perhaps a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

Jack was still there when her niece ─ the daughter of Lumpoon, one of Jack's two sisters ─ got married on February 25.

I have posted a number of photos that were apparently taken that morning when some monks seemed to be bestowing some blessings to the couple and some of those others who were involved.

I want now to complete posting the set of photos that were taken involving those monks.

Initially I thought that this was Lumpoon, but now I am quite certain that it is not:


Lumpoon is wearing yellow in the next photos, although only the back of her is at all visible. Just beside Lumpoon is the bride, her daughter; and beside the bride, it appears as if the groom is extending that large goblet-like container toward the monk, but the container is actually being held by someone just to the other side of the groom ─ the third photo proves this:




Some better looks at the bride and groom:




And that seems to be it for that sequence of images.

As my afternoon wears out, I am starting to feel a state of grogginess approaching, so I am going to close today's post 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 the small space in a private home located on Ninth Street [Google map], and two houses up from Third Avenue.
MONDAY, March 28, 1977

I arose well beyond 7:00 a.m.

This is the nicest day thus far of the year, but I felt too paranoid to benefit from it.

After exercising ─ and I'm grossly flabby ─ I went to Safeway and figured out enough purchases to amount to $1.19.

I finished a letter to Jean I'll mail off tomorrow afternoon.

[Jean M. Martin, née Black was a U.S. pen-pal I had back then.]

About 2:50 p.m. Bill stopped in to pay me the final $17 of the $32 he's owed me since late January.

[William Alan Gill was an old friend of mine I had known since at least as far back as 1962.]

Well, I felt I had to get into some regular running again, but hid inside all day. Thus, short of 7:00 p.m., I held to a decision to hurry over to Mark's, and so caught an episode of The Waltons I'd never seen, and later, The New Avengers

[My younger brother Mark was renting a Surrey duplex located on Semiahmoo Road (Google map), not too far along from where the road attaches to Old Yale Road. I was at his suite just about as much as I was at my own room, and so I had ready access to his home whether or not he was there.]

After Mark got home, he requested I bring over my extra income tax return sticker tomorrow (I later found I had discarded it).

I left for home at 11:00 p.m.

[My route back was to follow Old Yale Road to the railway tracks that you can make out just to the side of 125-B Street on this Google map; then I would follow them along to Scott Road (120th Street), and from there head on over to the Pattullo Bridge to cross over into New Westminster. I likely used that route in reverse to arrive at Mark's duplex unit.]  

I met 2 girls on the tracks between Old Yale and Scott.

Near home, someone driving confusedly and recklessly offered me a ride. I was only a block from home, but the youngster held. So, the point is, I'm lucky to be hale. He was stoned badly, and admitted to having stolen the vehicle 15 minutes earlier. He nearly left the street and ran down 2 guys involved in a car's repair in the drive-way of the house across from this one; the guys ran for cover. I was never in my life so relieved to have such a short ride finish. I dreaded the kid might try and take me further!

Bed 12:06 a.m.
I remember nothing of that hair-rising ride.

Neither do I recall meeting those girls on the dark railway tracks so late in the evening ─ they were taking a risk, but at least they had each other. There is some safety in numbers, after all.
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