Mercury Fillings and Palpitations. Who knew?

No more palpitations.

I had heart-stopping, thought-I-was-dying, pounding, hammering palps for at least 20 years. I celebrated my 66 birthday, and the pummeling is completely gone. Almost 14 years ago, I had a stroke. I couldn’t speak and walk. Not pretty.

Thank God for the dentist. The dentist pulled mercury fillings the teeth in ’05 or ’06.  Slowly but surely, I’m better. No more palpitations and no more disorienting panic attacks.

The mercury fillings are gone. Suddenly, I have my life back. The dentist is a plain old dentist, not mercury-free, extracting the old, decrepit silver fillings; at least 40 years. Before, I had a hard time speaking. I parsed out words and phrases. Remember, I’m little bit aphasic; words fail me. Eventually, the dentist and I commutated well.  “Mercury...pull out...”, you know, gumless? After, I speak well. Well, sort of.

Lopressor is a wonderful drug. After the stroke, the doctor said my palpitations are under control. Not true. Metoprolol is a generic form of Lopressor. I took the medication, but all of a sudden, without warning the palpitations recurred with a vengeance. I get that; Lopressor reduced the heart rate. Today, I’m palpitation-free.

I'm almost too late.

Read my blog, (yes, another blog, but it’s really good).  http://mercury-fillings-and-the-odd-stroke.blogspot.com/2012/08/mercury-fillings-and-stroke.html Specifically, "palpitations".   http://mercury-fillings-and-the-odd-stroke.blogspot.com/2012/08/palpitations.html It's a good read.

It's good to feel good.

Two doctors had the perseverance. Robert Ferrante, M.D.,64, bought a bottle of cyanide.

Dr. Pascal Spino

Forging a consult in heaven, Dr. Selim El-Attrache http://obituaries.triblive.com/listing/227891/Dr-Selim-F-El-Attrache/ and Dr. Pascal Spino died, http://obituaries.triblive.com/listing/228021/Dr-Pascal-D-Spino/  respectively at July 24, 2013 and at July 27, 2013. Spino died at 91 and El-Attrache at 85.

I was 19, a drop-out from Maryland Medical Secretary School at Hagerstown. Md. in 1965.  My dad, Charlie Yezek, worried about the aimlessly wandering from job to job; first as a waitperson in Howard Johnson’s at New Stanton, Penna., and I resigned my self as knitter; socks, cuddle caps, and sweaters. Yes, the resume had holes in it, I was a terrible waitress and a half-bad knitperson.

As a favor, Charlie called Selim, looking for an assistant. As it happened, Selim interviewed medical secretaries just this weekend. Favor time for Charlie? Grudgingly, I took the job, with the insurance forms, half-a-hour lunches and scheduled appointments. I was fired; too long lunch-breaks and never showing up. Doctors hate that.

In the 10 months stint, Dr. El-Attrache was a remarkable man. He is an orthopedist, a skilled surgeon and kind, gentle doctor. He was a tiny man, 5’2”, stocky, full of ideas and concepts. In the operating room, he used a step-stool. He founded, in the ‘60‘s, the Ski Patrol at Seven Springs Mountain Resort in Pennsylvania, fractured fibulas abound.

Veronica “Vera” Doniet El-Attrache, his wife, a registered nurse and always smiling, married April 2, 1958. She had a razor-sharp wit, a stately woman, at least 5’ 9”, and the four kids meant everything to Vera. Neal, Reid, Dean and Robin; a doctor, two dentists and a pet retreat for animals. She died August 7, 2005 of ovarian cancer. She was 70. 

By now, Frank Yankowski and I were married, and Jeffrey is in the womb. It was 1969, and I was exceedingly pregnant. At two weeks, Jeff was a skinny baby. He was a bottle baby and regurgitated half as much milk. The mouth, eyes and ears were crusted and he cried all the time. I called Dr. Pascal Spino, Greensburg, Penna. Waiting is a chore, sometimes hours on end in the waiting room. The children were colicky, croupy, cranky and mom's were exhausted.  

"The baby has eczema," Dr. Spino said, "see the elbow's and knees?” http://triblive.com/news/allegheny/3302457-74/spino-alzheimer-disease#axzz2aG2nMGgk   

Jeff had golf-ball eyes crusted with ooze, profound itching and scaly skin with strips of baby feet peeled away with dermis. Not pretty. He was two. The itching was so bad, he wore mittens I gave him to ease the pain. Kenalog cream helped, but it was a corticosteroid. He had a gamete of allergies, from trees, grasses, dust mites and milk.

Dr. Spino is the best pediatrician in southwestern Pennsylvania. He worked tirelessly, without fail. Dr. Spino referred Dr. Martin Murcek in Greensburg, Penna., an allergist.

Two doctors, had the skill, knowledge and fortitude, an orthopedist and a pediatrician, to get the job done, with the education, commitment and perseverance.

Conversely, Robert Ferrante, 64, bought a bottle of cyanide with a University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC) credit card, yet, on April 15, 2013, and shipped tout suite to his laboratory.

Indeed, fuzzy thinking.

Three days later, April 18, paramedics picked his wife's lifeless (almost) body off the kitchen floor of their Schenley Farms home and scooped her to UPMC Presbyterian. She’s 41 years old and doctor. 

It was too late.

Read on.

The underarms are dry. But what about your body? You know, it’s going to go someplace else.

The underarms are dry. Why is that?

It’s 1960. Saint Bernadine’s was packed and I was sweating.

Confirmation, that affirms Christian belief, was a big deal for me. I went to the public school three times a week, at St. Joe’s. I went after school, right around the corner. I was 13. The suit was teal blue and my underarms were drenched with wetness. 

  

I applied deodorant liberally, even Dad’s Old Spice. I was nervous, hot and my nylons are clinging to me. Saint Bernadine has no air conditioning.  Hey, 1960, OK? I tried Mitchum’s Antiperspirant and pads for my underarms. I tried everything.

With the muck-soaked perspiring, I still producing sweat.The prom gowns, the majorette uniform, the sleeveless tops exuded my pores of the skin. Still sweating, I watched a television commercial for Secret in about 1964, the underarms are dry as a bone. Why is that? Here’s a hint: Aluminum zirconium. Ah, the chemists. Antiperspirant-deodorant such as Ban, Secret, and Degree...no more wetness. Completely dry.  At last. Well, what’s wrong with this picture? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aluminium_zirconium_tetrachlorohydrex_gly    

My dad is amiable drunkard and he never missed a day's work. Charlie's a plumber and the pick-up truck full of parts and spigots and fittings and debris clutters the seats. Dad is disheveled and looks like an unmade bed, but he is quite smart. He had a scruffy baseball cap, grimy hands and watches boxing and (long time ago) works at Westinghouse. Dad is his own boss. He died of dementia at 87.

“It’s good to sweat.” said Dad. “Open’s your pores.”  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweat_pore     

My Dad reeks of sewer water, flanges that leak and filters from the heaters but he always takes a shower in the evening. He applied Old Spice deodorant and he was whole again.

The sweat glands close pores and prevent sweat production, case in point, my underarms are dry. That’s not good. Antiperspirants contain aluminum zirconium plugs, forming the sweat gland. Don’t fool Mother Nature. It’s good to sweat.

Propylene glycol is antifreeze, is a common ingredient used in antiperspirants and deodorants. The side effect of this product are many, from pet foods, irritation from the eyes and itching. P.G. is safe, per consumer safety advocates, but can cause damage in large quantities the liver and heart.  http://www.livestrong.com/article/234677-propylene-glycol-side-effects/  

And then the light came on. I figured it out: it’s good to sweat, unblocks your pores and unplugs them. 

Many years ago, I threw out the antiperspirants and went to pure deodorant (P.G. free), just in case. I pop deodorant it in my purse and the bathroom, ‘cause you never know. Weleda Sage Deodorant smells wonderful, but it's pricey. Good for a man or woman. Invest in excellent deodorant.

I lived in Michigan, Sterling Heights Assembly Plant, for Chrysler Motors in the ’80’s. I built cars. Need I say more? The sweat and the closeness of the workers and the God-awful heat, (in August, yet) well, it’s really pungent. Chrysler has huge fans for the workers; that’s a plus. I stocked up on deodorant.

Here’s a thought: The psychotic plant in the ’80’s, the business meeting, the first-date jitters and the teenagers from the junior-senior prom; 

1. Apply your aluminum zirconium, just this once, for underarms, say a business meeting.
2. The business meeting is over. Using a facecloth, with soap and water, towel dry underarms.
3. Apply your deodorant. (Remember, it’s good to sweat, pores, pores, pores.)
4. Use Secret or Ban or Degree just for an emergency. Put it in the medicine cabinet with cobwebs.

It’s about money. The sales and marketing (and the chemists) people are no fools. Of course your underarms are dry and sweat-free. The heat is sizzling and baking, but what about your body? You know, it’s going to go someplace else. 

Undoubtedly, it’s too late.

http:www.thedailygreen.com/living-green/blogs/organic-parenting/natural-deodorants-47062903  

 http://www.infantrisk.com/content/aluminum-rich-antiperspirants-potential-hazard  

What’s with the chickens squawking in the suburbs, for that matter, the city?

When I was six-years-old, screaming like a banshee, the roosters clucked at my heels furiously.

The Grandma and Grandpap Yezek were farmers in Parfittown, PA. Inquistive, I was looking at the chicken coop, munching on grain, corn and vermin. The roosters were protecting the chickens. Bellowing loudly, with the god-awful screech of sunlight, the roosters crow with an earsplitting volume for 5000 years. Give or take.

What’s with the chickens squawking in the suburbs, for that matter, the city?

Rural farmers, in the yawning dawn, in the 1950’s or 1960’s tend to the chickens; four or ten youngling or old, fresh water, pellets, top-notch chicken wire for the foxes and hawks and plenty of sunshine on the backs, fresh, cool eggs and maybe a chicken coop.

Here’s a tip. It’s work.

Backyard idiots takes exertion and fortitude. Chickens take a lot of work, not for the mundane. Your bored with the chickens like FarmVille 2 on Facebook? Throw the chickens out. It’s too hard. Next, please.

Susie Coston, (NBCNews) Farm Sanctuary based in Watkins Glen, NY, wander aimlessly on the streets, abandoned backyard birds. About 250 are waiting for homes from the shelter. It’s “misplaced rural nostalgia”, where owner Mary Britton Clouse at the Chicken Run Rescue in Minneapolis, Minn.  http://www.nbcnews.com/health/backyard-chickens-dumped-shelters-when-hipsters-cant-cope-critics-say-6C10533508

It’s messy, labor-intensive, smelly, pests abound and what about the feces?

Defecation is funky. Birds don’t pee; a useless factoid. No bladder. Everything is reproduced with a large plopping. http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/the-digestive-system-of-a-chicken.html  Borrow your cat’s little scoop and have at it. The cat’s scowling face, hauty attitude and mean look doesn’t matter. Ignore it. It’s bad vibes for the poultry and you, when you breathe bacteria. It’s unappetizing.The chicken coop nesting box is clean and be pleasant place to be. http://hencam.com/faq/chicken-manure-management/

As a side note, my Aunt Annie, barefooted, sporadic teeth and a housedress, (I was a tot) lopped off their chicken-heads with an axe. A clean break, no fuss and the chick meanders for a while, disoriented I’m sure, for one-minute...and the chicken dropped dead. Chicken dinner Sunday, with mashed potatoes to boot. Well, I digress.

The beautiful birds with bright colors and hues live to 15 years or so. Conversely, full of hormones, antibiotics and stuff, is short-lived. The chicken has a dismal life. Six-months old, pellets, water and the kill room; never once breathing the air, the rain, snow and sunshine.

 Food, Inc., the movie, is an eye-opener. Clearly, it’s too late. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1286537/

Before you consider this:

Get yourself a chicken coop. http://www.familiesraisingchickens.com The coop is their roost; they interact, lay eggs and even go to the bathroom. Get familiar with the coop.

Fresh feed is important. http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/how-much-and-when-to-feed-chickens.html 

Fresh water, clean water, please. http://www.strombergschickens.com/prod_detail_list/founts-waterers?s=ADW&gclid=CIfNrLfkp7gCFSJlMgod_2AAeg 

Clean, clean, clean your mess.

Before I had the stroke, I was a journalist, free-lance, for the Trib in Greensburg, Penna.            http://triblive.com/home/  Memoirs of a family farmer, about 15 years ago ”Time Waits for No One” by Clair L. Frye noted how much has changed. I interviewed him. He recalled the pick-up full of eggs on Route 31. He parked the truck, tended to the chores and 24 hours later and eggs were gone. Full of change and bills, he stuffed his jeans. Townfolks, farmers and passers-by knew Clair and the truck. One dozen eggs, $.15 cents. People trusted.

So, eggspect your produce. http://www.agriculture.state.pa.us/portal/server.pt/gateway/PTARGS_0_2_24476_10297_0_43/AgWebsite/ProgramDetail.aspx?name=Egg-Fruit-&-Vegetable-Inspection&navid=12&parentnavid=0&palid=53&     

The wandering chickens on the streets? Buy some eggs and be done with it.

http://oklahoma4h.okstate.edu/aitc/lessons/extras/facts/chickegg.html 

Alektorophobia is the fear of chickens.

(Again, a useless factoid.)

Medicare: WalkAide and Botox. Medicare is 48 years is corruption, greed and dubious lying.

Forget Obama, Bush, Clinton, GHWBush (twice, yet), Reagan, Carter, Nixon and Johnson. It’s the system.
 
Medicare is 48 years is corruption, greed and dubious lying.  Although, it provides low-cost medical insurance for the broke and moneyed. The yin and yang.  http://whistleblowersagainstfraud.com/medicaid&medicarefraud.html?gclid=CMCco8yqm7gCFc5FMgodaAkAPw


July 30, 1965, President Lyndon Johnson signed into law Medicare. The Senate approved on July 9, by 68-21. Grumblings for “socialized medicine” with conservative Reps, joined the American Medical Association. President Harry S. Truman in 1953 had plan for universal coverage, but he backed off. Ahead of his time, apparently.  www.politico.com/news/stories/0707/5129.html

I was 52 years old and I had a massive stroke in 1999. I'm 65. I couldn't speak and I couldn't walk; confined to a wheelchair and five hospitals. Nothing clicks. It's a profound, hopelessly, bleak situation and no way out. It's tabula rasa; it's a blank slate.

The muscles atrophied on my right leg, specifically, my knee joint. Sometimes it buckles. I had a hinged support brace for the knee. It works well, coupled with the cane or four-pronged walker, but, sometimes it hurts, especially the lower back.

I have WalkAide.The peroneal foot lifts electronically. It's a cattle-prod, essentially. The physical therapist electrically stimulates the appropriate nerve (peroneal nerve) that signals the ankle joint to dorsiflex.Two electrodes are used from WalkAide.

Medicare doesn’t cover WalkAide. www.walkaide.com

I forked over, probably, $10,000 dollars, from the WalkAide cuff (big bucks!) and the electrodes for 4 years. I walk well; I hobble like a trooper.

Ditto for Botox; Medicare doesn’t cover Botox. www.botoxmedical.com 

Ir's too late.

My claw-arm (for my right hand) is dead in the water. The left hand does everything from cooking, fire-building, and open the mail. Botox relaxes, hypothetically, the muscles in my right arm.

Medicare serves as an umbrella, a filter. It rains down bed pans, walkers, blood tests, and hospital beds, etc. WalkAide and Botox is not covered. I have Keystone Blue, in conjunction with Medicare. Keystone Blue supersedes Medicare. I told you, it's obscure. I’m waiting for Medicaid to kick in. I’m not hopeful. Botox is the answer.

 www.cdc.gov/stroke/facts.html

Stroke kills almost 130,000 Americans each year---that’s 1 in every 19 deaths. Stroke costs the United States an estimated $38.6 billion each year, per the Center for Disease Control.

It’s not brain surgery (pardon the pun).