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Sunday, May 13, 2018

Five Features Common to People Living Beyond the Age of 90 │ Testosterone Deficiency in Men Is WideSpread

I was very much looking forward to an evening of T.V. by myself yesterday ─ my younger brother Mark usually spends Saturday nights at the home of his girlfriend Bev.

Quite early in the evening ─ I had just fixed up my supper and brought it into the living room prior to starting up a 1996 movie titled She's the One ─ when my youngest stepson Poté (he and his girlfriend had only arrived home a couple or so minutes before) came into the living room and presented me with a half-dozen cans of strong (8% alcohol) Black Label beer (these are older photos I took of the various brews a few months ago).

I had on hand a can of equally strong Cariboo malt, a product of the province's Pacific Western Brewing Company

I used to keep myself stocked with Black Label and another brand ─ a malt (Colt 45) ─ of the same strength, until I discovered Cariboo malt earlier this year. Cariboo was and still is 70¢ cheaper for a half-dozen cans, it is a local product, and it is basically "naturally brewed."

Since I usually buy a flat of 24 cans when I go to the government liquor store to stock up, the $2.80 that I save in purchasing Cariboo instead of Black Label or Colt 45 is substantial to this pensioner.

With this temptation before me, I anticipated having at least one extra brew over the evening, rather than just my usual single can.

I probably started watching the movie just after 7:30 p.m. I had selected it solely because it had Jennifer Aniston ─ it was perhaps only her second movie.

At about a minute or two at most before 8:00 p.m., I was appalled to see my brother Mark arriving home ─ I knew that he was to be here for the evening. Usually, the only reason he does not spend Saturday night at his girlfriend's home is because the two of them get too drunk to tolerate one another.

And now I was going to have to endure him ─ and have my movie ruined. I prepared myself to have to shut it down if he was to be too drunk to bear. 

To my surprise, he seemed in very reasonable condition, so I don't know why he didn't stay at Bev's home ─ maybe she was at fault this time. I just didn't ask ─ I didn't want conversation unrelated to the movie.

He proved to be reasonable all evening. However, his presence meant that I was going to be sitting up later than I ever intended, for I am the one who has to operate our Android TV Box for the selection of the programmes we watch.

Well past midnight, Mark finally called it quits for the night and went on up to his bedroom, but I still wanted to go outside and water the garden plants in the front yard.

If I am remembering correctly, it was 12:58 a.m. before I was into bed. And I had consumed three cans of strong beer over the evening. However, because they were spread over approximately a five-hour period, I was not to have any meaningful or even verifiable hangover symptoms overnight.

But I had wanted to be able to get up early enough to continue with the edit of an old post at my Siam-Longings website, and also get out and do some local grocery shopping at Deepu's No Frills store in the Cedar Hills shopping centre (96th Avenue & 128th Street) about four blocks from home here in Surrey

That store opens at 9:00 a.m.

Fortunately, I managed to get away before anyone else here had risen ─ it was 9:01 a.m. when I set forth after locking the front door.

The day was clearly going to be another cloudless hot one, so I was pleased that I had done the watering last night.

I definitely felt short on sleep out there, but I did what I needed to do. And that included mailing off my participation in the annual PNE Prize Home Lottery.

For the first time in my life that I can surely recall, I very much want to win this furnished home. It seems to me that I always enter the various home lotteries with the intention of selling the home or taking a cash equivalent if I won the main prize, but I love the location and features of this particular home.

It would make my life worth the living again.

However, I believe that the odds of winning the main prize in this lottery are ridiculously slim compared to winning the main prize in one of the several home charity sweepstakes that are featured here in the province, and which I always try to enter.

But no one is ever going to win this or any other main prize without participating.

Once I was back home from the shopping hike, Mark was up and reading The Province newspaper at the dining table.

We didn't communicate, and I was soon enough back here at my computer continuing the post edit work at Siam-Longings.

Eventually I heard him come on upstairs and then shut himself into his bedroom, apparently seeking a nap. I also needed one, but I worked a little longer, and then was back into my own bed before 11:00 a.m.

The nap was not unusually long by any means, and when I next checked the time it was 12:15 p.m. It probably took me a couple of minutes to get myself convinced to rise from bed.

And when I went downstairs, I found Mark to have gone for the afternoon. I hope that he went away early in order to benefit from the sunshine somewhere, and will not get involved in drinking until considerably later in the afternoon.

He had locked the front door, for my eldest stepson Tho ─ who had gotten up before Mark sought his nap ─ was not home either. Tho's younger brother Poté was still in bed.

I had sacrificed any early-morning exercising out in the backyard tool-shed, for the shopping expedition mattered more to me. But I did not intend to forsake exercising entirely for the day.

I also wanted to sit out in the sunshine.

So shortly after 1:00 p.m. I spent just over 30 minutes seated in a lawn- or deck-chair while I faced into the Sun, and was dressed in just a pair of cutoffs.

Then I went into the tool-shed and at least got the pull-ups' portion of my usual exercising session performed.

I then stood outside with my back to the Sun for just over a rather boring further half-hour.

I followed that up with some other exercising in the shed, and then came into the house to put together my day's first meal.

After I brought it up here to my computer, I believe that Poté ─ who had risen right after I entered back into the house ─ may have gone to work.

For the past five or so days, the back area of my right hip has been very bothersome. Normally my exercising in the tool-shed includes a couple of exercises that require me to elevate my legs while I am suspended from the floor, but I entirely dispensed with those today.

When I was walking the four or so blocks this morning to mail the home lottery entry and do my shopping, I was disappointed to find that the flow of walking was somewhat restricted due to the tightness caused by the deep pain.

I don't know if the pain is a complaining ligament, or if there has been a muscle cramp that should be easing up. My diagnosis is that due to very tight hip flexors, I am now suffering the consequences of that condition.

Whatever the cause, I had to walk slow and with a rather short stride, quite apart from how warm it was out there (I had on a jacket). And I had to be conscious of my gait to try and keep myself from doing any meandering along the sidewalk.

I felt more normal at the act of walking while coming home, though.

Anytime I sit for an extended period, it is impossible for me to stand erect due to that rear right hip pain. Thus far, I believe that I have successfully hidden my limitations from the notice of other members of my household.

It's simply embarrassing to be like this.

Since I am reluctant to use any movement of my legs to exercise my abdominal region, I may give planking a try. However, I don't have a functioning watch to lay before me in order for me to keep tabs on the time in order to track full minutes as they elapse. 

I see that my iPhone 5 has a Timer feature that I have never used ─ I wonder if it would keep a full display of the passing seconds and minutes if I set it to run?

It's no good if the phone's screen goes black ─ I can't see the time then; and I wouldn't be able to use one of my hands to reach to the phone to activate the view again.

Not two years ago, I tried doing a plank just to see what it would be like, and I got as far as seven minutes before halting. I could have lasted longer, but I wasn't seeking any targeted period of time. I was just giving the exercise a go.

What stood out was how bloody boring those seven minutes were, and so I never felt an inclination to keep up with planking.

By the way, I am 68 years old, and weigh around 195 pounds (88.4505 kilogrammes) at a height of about five feet and 10¾ inches (179.705 centimetres).

I am confessedly about 10 to 12 pounds heavier than I care to be.

Even so, it's hard to know if this matters or not where overall health is concerned. According to one school of thought, having some extra poundage as a senior is a good thing.

Check this article out:


And this is the University of California, Irvine Institute for Memory Impairments and Neurological Disorders (UCI MIND) website whose "90+ Study" was referenced beneath that article, but not linked to: The 90+ Study.

Something quite related that potentially affects me as "an older dude" is another study that these three articles speak about:




Even if I did not have limited resources, I doubt that I would undergo this sort of therapy. I certainly don't know much about it at all, but I suspect that the testosterone being administered is synthetic.

Also, from my limited understanding, the body might well (permanently) reduce whatever limited production of its own that it already has going on if extraneous testosterone was administered.

I bloody don't want that happening. I would rather be able to enhance my body's own production ─ stimulate it to produce more, somehow. 

Lord, my afternoon is nearly done, and Mark may well be home extremely early in the evening ─ sometimes on Sundays he arrives home late in the afternoon.

I must be done with this post before then.

And so here to close with 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.
FRIDAY, May 13, 1977

I dragged myself out of bed c. 7:05 a.m., reluctantly ending a run of crazy dreams.

It's going to be a poor day.

Yesterday mom said that I won't be garbage collecting with Jock; Haul-away overbade for the clean-up week contract.

[Jock (John) Halverson was one of my maternal cousins, and the possibility had existed that I might get taken on for a special week of garbage collection with Haul-Away (or whatever the company was called) who then had the contract hereabouts. On the special annual clean-up week, practically anything would be okay to put out for collection, although there were of course some prohibitions.]

I've been putting off mentioning it, but I shall now: last Tuesday or Monday Joan Crawford died, being, I believe, 69. 

[Well, I see at Wikipedia that she was 73. I probably gave the wrong impression about why I had been "putting off mentioning" her death. I think I just hadn't bothered because it seemed rather trivial. So I don't know why I suddenly took it upon myself to mention it in this journal entry.]

The landlady had taken off before bringing down my cheque, but she came home again and did so in the vicinity of 11:00 a.m. ─ as usual, $146, and with another claim card to post in.

[This was my latest Unemployment Insurance payment.] 

I had a nap.

Just after I'd left to cash my cheque, I finally got caught in rain ─ for the duration of my outing.

I also got my pants exchanged, and blew $2.66 at Safeway; I could have saved 10¢ if I'd wits enow to recollect a coupon I carried.

About 2 hours late ─ still spitting some rain ─ I went to Woodward's and bought 3 money orders ($2.95, $5, $6) plus a can of peanut butter, unsalted (at $2.79, possibly my last of the brand). 

[I now think that I meant two hours "later" ─ not "late." The peanut butter must have been Woodward's own brand ─ probably the best natural peanut butter on the general market.]

I found a guy I'd not seen before trying to push a station wagon out of the garage ─ car port ─ here; I lent him 1 assist, but we failed.

Bed at 11:00 p.m.
Mark has arrived home at 6:01 p.m. ─ time to proofread this post and get it published.
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