Being hollowed out

The truth/lie about stomached ulcers.

Being a retired person, one has time to enjoy life’s experiences, whether they be work or family related.

This morning, while pondering over my possible last fatty breakfast of coffee, bacon, eggs and buttered toast, my mind examined every tasty mouth full of food. I chewed every morsel of bacon, egg and toast until it became fluid, in order to extract each and every flavoring particle for the absorption by my taste buds.

I am not sure if I will be able to enjoy the nice crispy bacon fat mixed with the yoke of the nicely fried egg again.
It tasted like the best breakfast I ever had.

My mouth welcomed it, my esophagus carried it happily to my stomach and my gallbladder said: 'let’s get to work breaking this fat load down while we can'.

Every part of my anatomy was happy and the last remnants of the tasty breakfast still linger in my mouth.

So why all this fuss over a little breakfast? Why this post?

As from now I am on a diet of clear fluids prior to gastroscopy and colonoscopy procedures tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow a little camera will be passed into my stomach and bowel to exclude any nasties, like cancer or polyps, prior to removing my gallbladder, which is believed to be the cause of the chest pains that feel like heart attacks, which I have been having...

Personally I think they have the ‘kat by die stert beet’ but then that may be one of those labels the doctors put on patients who do not want to accept their medical conditions. That label called 'denial'.

Just last week I had another imaginary label stuck to my forehead, by my GP, when I described my gastric and chest discomfort. That one was called ‘Hypochondria’.

A nice name for a baby: Imagine saying ‘Hypochondria go and do your school work’

My name is no longer ‘Hypochondria’ because I now suffer from a

‘delayed bile flow condition’ due to a gall-stone. So they say.

So I have a little gall-stone. So what? It is mine, it does not necessary need to be removed, so I redekavel. Surely if my gall-bladder was so troublesome, why can I enjoy this large breakfast of bacon and eggs so much?

The surgeons of today are far too eager to chop people’s body parts out because they feel it is not essential to health.
They think God created people full of needless spare parts, it seems.

I think it is man who is unable to understand the full glory of God’s creation. One day, perhaps we will understand just how vitally important each and every organ in the body is and aim to preserve, or replace it, rather than ‘chop it out’.

I was fifty when they chopped my uterus and ovaries out, pushing me into menopause overnight.
I was told that it was better to remove it because it would cause problems later in life.
(The removal of the ovaries was due to a surgical accident but that is another story).
The argument, at the time was that I did not need it anyway.

They possibly took my appendix out too because they believed that I did not need it either.

If they could they would remove my tonsils because ‘I do not need it’

Now the surgeons are about to remove my gallbladder because it is not necessary for health.

Soon I shall be like an empty vessel that can only make a lot of noise. (So I shall still have my tonsils – I hope)

Anyway, what this post is about is what I was thinking while I ate my last fatty breakfast. I was pondering on the mechanics of eating.

The food enters your mouth then it gets mechanically mashed by your teeth.
The more you chew your food, the less work your stomach has to do in order to break it down.
One can assume that people that chew their food well have to secrete less stomach acid.
Failing to chew food well will place a strain on the stomach which has to break those hunks of un-chewed food down chemically. (Using a strong acid)

Un-chewed food remains in the stomach longer, because an acidic chemical process is needed to make the food useable to the body.

The food beaks up in the holding-tank (stomach) and gets released in small amounts, as it digests, also causing a hold-up in the gallbladder (that has to break down the fat) and the pancreas (that breaks down the sugar and other nutrients)

Can you see how by neglecting the simple process of chewing food properly, we can have such a host of other gastric stress and congestions.

We all know that stress causes ulcers. We know the bigger the hurry, the faster we eat.
Acids can burn through the bowel linings and cause ulcers.
The shorter the time that food remains in the stomach the less chance there is of developing ulcers and indigestion.

Perhaps if stressed people can only take time to eat regular small meals and chew each mouth-full to a masticated pulp before swallowing, many stress-gastric symptoms can be avoided.

Chewing food well, from childhood, can possibly prevent obesity, stomach cancer and a host of other gastric problems in later life.

Eating and chewing with consciousness can possibly be a key to a longer life. Think about it.
It could prevent being surgically hollowed out in old age.

Perhaps parents should train their little children to chew their food, rather than delight in seeing an empty plate.

So mum, next time you hurry your little one through his plate of food, consider the surgical problems you may be training him to have later in life.



Of wat praat ek alles.

------------------------------------------------

The end times

Here are some interesting links about the end times:

1. 1984 - a limited preview of the book.
2. George Orwell
3. Vals profete
4. Die nuwe openbaringe
5. geween en kners van tande
6. Another link to George Orwell’s 1984

original post : http://white_granny.iblog.co.za/

Charity?

The 67 minutes of Mandela Charity thing came and gone without much of a ripple in our routine.
Most of the people I know give much more than 67 minutes of their time to helping other in need either on a daily or on an hourly basis.

One of my friends gives 120 minutes of her time every hour of the day to helping someone in need.
She has a daughter with leukemia.

She is now faced with perhaps leaving her place of residence, because the owner needs it for her own family.

It seems that, in my environment, the people who mostly need to be reminded to give time to charity are those who receive it.

Some people become like helpless sponges and just take.

They have the attitude that the world owes them.

It does not matter how badly you are off, a smile or a good word cost nothing.

I remember some years ago, when our Pick and Pay decided to donate the day old bread to the squatter community.
Sometimes the transport would let them down and the bread become moldy.

The people appeared on television accusing the chain store for regarding them as pigs.

In that case it would have been better if the store chucked the bread. They would not have received the bad publicity the got instead of a “Thank you”

People often slap the hand that feeds them. They always want more and more.

They will only become satisfied when they get in a situation where they become givers and not just takers.

I don’t think the time to start giving is when you have excess. There are lots of things that you can give that do not cost money.
We should all be givers. Of wat praat ek alles

The hungry man

Dear Mr. President,

The man, who delivered free newspapers to my letterbox, asked me for bread when he saw me collect the post.

He was sitting on the opposite side of the road sorting the papers. He called the bread by a different name, and I had to ask him to explain what he was asking for.

My first reaction was to feel annoyed, because we see so much food being thrown away by people, pretending to be hungry, to play on our emotions to get money for booze instead. Professional liars.

Then I remember that it has been some weeks since I saw food being thrown away.
Perhaps people are really starving.
The man’s face flashed in front of my eyes.
His skin was darker than that of our local native population. He looked thin and sickly. His eyes were hollow.

My husband just left and I was alone at home. How do I know he was not going to pull a knife out and stab me when I hand him the bread?

I turned my back to him and closed the door so I could feel safe.

Perhaps I am a sucker, I thought. Let it not be recorded in my book of life , when I one day stand in front of the pearly gates, and the gatekeeper refuses me entrance because I turned a hungry man away when I had plenty to give.

I went to the kitchen and spread some marg and apricot jam onto a slice of bread and grabbed a bottle of water and took it to him to still my conscience - or balance my heavenly books … whatever.

I could have given him much more, but I still was not convinced that he was honest.

O, I wish I lived in a country where we can trust people again.
I am at heart a Samaritan but here in South Africa it as called “a sucker”!

Original post from : (http://grannypolitics.iblog.co.za)

My head book

This morning I feel rather pleased with myself.
As I awoke I sort of remembered my dream from the previous night. I then remembered that it continued on from a dream of the night before. Not that I was aware of recording it in my brain.
Then my mind continued to complete the dream even though I was awake.
Since this is not the first time that I woke up with a novel in my head, I decided to think it through.
I had to make a choice to either put it on ice for now, think it to as far as I can, or discard it since I do not have time to spend on novels right now.
Someone told me to write my thought-dreams down, because otherwise I spent my creativity without recording it ever. She said once creativity is spent, it goes.

I decided to record the outlines and started writing.
Even though I had no idea how it was going to play out; the words (or rather ideas) just flowed to the last paragraph. I crawled out of bed at 11 am with the whole comedy written down (the outline if it).

From beginning to the last sentence – the whole novel outline in my diary.

I have never brought a book to completion in one morning, even though this is about the sixth one I dreamed.

Sometimes it would take me three months to think one through.
My comedy has a beginning, a body, a theme, all the major actors (not their names) and an ending. Brilliant.

Except for the before last head-novel, I never even wrote them down.

This one is a comedy written for the screen or to be performed -- not for a book.

The story deals with two brothers that were abducted at the age of six months and were reunited with the family twenty six years later. They had to act that they were babies for the sake of the mother’s emotional health.

It is the first story that I ever minded-out that I could not put my own personality into any of the characters.

It is as if I was reading someone else's transcript.
Nevertheless, I am pleased with myself for writing the 26 pages into my diary.

Perhaps I shall learn how to write a TV novel and complete it one day.

The land of Croatia?

I thought I would start my "June - best webcam research" and came across this link.
One never know when one stumbles upon a video game or whether something is real on the internet.
I realize real or not - I know as little about Croatia as what most foreigners know about South Africa.
I bet you, by the end of this month, I shall know everything there is to know about this place.


I just have to find out if the town is here on earth or if it is one of a number of new lunar suburbs.
Perhaps we can start a white Afrikaner state there?"
Of what praat ek alles

Whatever here are a few links:

To enter Croatia a driver's licence, an automobile registration card and vehicle insurance documents (including Green Card) are required.

(sputnik supplied?)

In case of rain please adjust speed to conditions on wet roads.
Driving with headlights is obligatory during both day and night.
Mobile phones: Use of mobile phones while driving is not permitted
Maximum permitted amount of alcohol in blood: 0.0 per mill!
Use of seat belts is obligatory.


Http://www.accommodationincroatia.net/travel.phpe



I decided to consult Wikki (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croatia) and she said. Sorry no apartheid here.
They do exist on earth.

Dear Mr. President,

Dear Mr. President, (Original post from http://grannypolitics.iblog.co.za/)
It is still a freezing cold winter morning outside.

It is early still. The time that people leave their homes to go to work.
A woman walks past my window. She looks like someone’s mother.
Her skin is drawn and her young face is wrinkled like that of a woman twenty years her senior.
She is thin. Her legs are bare and her bare feet are inside thin damp shoes. A thin sarong (for a skirt) covers the lower half of her body. A worn, thin, long sleeved faded sweater covers her upper half.
Under her arm she clutches a bag that met its last owner.
She walks as brisk as she can because it keeps her body warm so she can not feel the cold …….
So she can not feel her tummy aching for food. So she can not remember sending her children off to school without something to eat or drink this morning.
Her eyes scan the houses for one that looks friendly. One that may give her a job this morning.

The vision of getting some money to buy soup bones, maze, bread and beans to prepare a meal for her family tonight keeps her going. She can see her children filling their tummies and laugh a joke …… and dream about a better tomorrow. The one president Zuma promised.

She disappeared down the road. I reach out for my cup of tea and wonder what I would put on my toast this morning, honey or marmalade.

Somewhere far away, our country’s leaders are recovering from indigestion brought about from the rich breakfast they just indulged in. They have a full schedule. Many important decisions to make. There are the issues of the mines, the strikers, the economy and the upcoming summit. Yes, there are lots to deal with before lunch.

See how many days until
We reach our goal to MAKE POVERTY HISTORY by 2015

(http://sites.google.com/site/unityinafrica/)

Of wat praat ek alles

Bin People

The bin people - Cape Town suburb.10-06-2009

The activity at the garbage bins is a social indicator for a region.

No activity would mean that the poverty needs of a community are being met.

Today is bin-day. (Wednesdays is the day that we all one wheel our wheelie-bins outside onto our driveways in readiness for the garbage disposal truck.)
They have a golden rule: "whatever is not inside the bin will not be collected" So food, clothing or newspapers must be put inside the bin for the poorest of the poor to collect before the truck arrives.
It is a weekly ritual in our neighborhood.
The lucky organized bin-scavengers come in groups of two or more and neatly pack their shopping trolleys. They stack the trolley neatly and tightly to fit as much recyclable into it as they can. Their dedication to the job is the same as with any other job. This is their living.
Then you have the newcomers. They are not organized yet. The lucky ones carry rug sacks but the very new, Zimbabweans and other newcomers to the area, just have plastic shopping bags. Most of them are looking for food.
There is another brand of the rug sack brigade that has a criminal intent. They look for documents and ID papers.

I heard the shopping trolleys being pushed down the road very early. Were they the early-birds who wanted to catch the best recyclables? --- Or was it the house breakers making for the taxi rank to get to the buyers early?

Both sound the same
They both use shopping trolleys. (Theft of a shopping trolley in South Africa is regarded as a human right.) Stolen shopping trolleys are paid for by the consumer.

I have noticed more bin-scavengers with rug-sacks and very few trolleys this last month.
I have seen more people scratching the bins for food, but today it is very quiet in our street.
Yesterday I saw a woman sweeping the street. It was unusual, because there was not much rubbish in the gutters.

Last week there were a few people looking for newspapers and the box of newspapers I put into my bin was quickly snapped up.
.
I have not seen the glass collectors for a while.
I placed a box full of newspapers on top of my bin this morning, but no-one was interested.
I also put two cracked fish tanks next to the bin for the glass collectors, but it did not draw any interest.

Are the workers at the municipal offices waiting for community work opportunities?
Is the government succeeding in providing work?

The bin people and those hopefuls at the corners of the streets will be the measurement of how well the government fulfills its promise.


Of wat praat ek alles

Cyber space killing

Last night I dozed off in front of the TV, in the back ground, on the screen, a gang-rape was playing out.
I saw the end of it but thought nothing much about it at the time. It is our norm. The rubbish that enters our private spaces through TV screens and video games is part of life. It is fantasy - not real. Our brains can distinguish from what is real and what is not.
Or can it?

From time to time mediate to clear conflict and disharmony within my mind. Images that comes up in my mind during this process is often “not real”
It may be something I saw on television, in a soapy by accidental viewing or what I read in the newspaper. My brain recorded it as conflict within me.

This morning I picked up a magazine “PC Format” in which a video game was reviewed. The author wrote: “...... I am going to track down and take out another wolf in Obivion. And a bear. And a mountain lion - just because I can.” (Page 8 / June 2006)

Perhaps more studies are needed to determine what effect this loose morality, cruelty and violence are having on humanity as a whole. Or perhaps we should just take note of studies that was already done.
We can not just ignore this type of “Freedom of expression”
If “freedom of speech and expression harms innocent minds, it is no longer freedom of speech - it is corruption!”

Perhaps that type of material should be recognized or what it is and not be forced into public viewing spaces. People who want to view that stuff should specifically subscribe to it.

Then the rest of us can start to create in our minds a world of healing, joy, bliss and peace.

That is if bliss and peace can ride on the same donkey - of wat praat ek alles.

See "The joy of killing"

Extreme de-clutter

Last year I would hear of someone emigrating from South Africa on a weekly basis.
Up to before the elections, recently, I am hearing about friends returning to South Africa.
The reason for the return is that they can not find jobs overseas.
One person said that the crime issue is one thing, but what use is safety when one is unhappy.


Emigrating and then returning, is a very extreme way to get rid of clutter.

Read the words of THE GREEN GREEN GRASS OF HOME here

Some interesting New Age facts About South Africa:

Some people say that Table Mountain is the basic chakra (energy center) of the earth. The earth seems to have more than one.
Other say that it is the sacral chakra.

There are important earth ley-lines on Table Mountain. As far as I remember, one runs through to Mc Gregor and further.
There is a Northern star-gate at the Pyramids.
It is said that the Southern star-gate is at Pietermaritzburg in Natal.

Sadly Zimbabwe is another important energy center of the earth - they say.

Like on land, it is claimed that there are powerful water crystal energy centers in the waters on and around the earth.

Cape Town is said to be near the Foot Water Crystal energy center.

Chew on that!

Here are more herkoukies:

• Http://www.ofspiritandsoul.com/earth%20vortices/vortices.html

• http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message210709/pg1
• http://white_granny.iblog.co.za/2009/04/18/198691/
  

Of wat praat ek alles

Narrowing the gap or leveling the playing field

Are we narrowing the gap between rich and poor or leveling the playing field to dirt level.


We had to change our M-net decoder, so we decided to have breakfast at a nearby well-known chain-restaurant.

The restaurant was packed, which meant that the food was as good as it has been for decades.
We chose this particular restaurant because they make nice coffee. We also like the breakfasts they serve at a very affordable price.

The waitress took our order and brought our very hot coffee. The cups were also hot, and I wondered if they heated it up in a microwave. It was very nice, but not “second cup” nice. It was just too hot. You do not get a choice of hot or cold milk, just Xxxxx coffee. Nice Xxxxx coffee, but. I mentioned the microwave suspicion to my husband and he said “What do you expect from a Xxxxx restaurant?”


Next the waitress threw the cutlery, partially wrapped in the serviette, onto the table. No place mat or side plate, we are expected to eat from the snotty-kids-fingers' table. I picked up the knife and fork and, using the serviette, I started polishing the invisible snot from the cutlery. Then I placed my cutlery on top of the serviette. My husband watched my antics and said: “What do you expect from a Xxxxx?”

The breakfast came and it looked very tasty. I ordered, the smallest breakfast of bacon, and soft egg and toast. My husband ordered a man-sized one with his egg well done.

I waited for the side plate, butter and jam, and hoped the place mat would arrive late, but none came. When I said “Is this it?” My husband said: “What do you expect from a Xxxxx?”

We asked for marmalade and butter. It arrived with no side plate and butter-knife.
I looked at the narrow pointed steak knife I used for my breakfast. It was full of egg, so I used the second serviette that came with the butter to wipe the egg from the knife.
I was staring at it and thought it would have been so much easier to use a butter knife.
My husband looked at me and before I opened my mouth to say something, he said:
“What do you expect from a XXXXX?”

Eventually, my husband got up and asked for a butter knife. Another waitress took one from the tray and handed it to our waitress to pass it on to him. The other waitress was not going to serve someone from another table.

I looked at the snotty finger table and wished for a side plate. I said: “I don’t suppose they will bring a side plate?”
He answered: “What do you expect from a XXXXX?”

My dinner plate was a bright egg yellow so I discarded the idea to butter my toast on it.
I considered tipping the butter and jam out onto the table and using that saucer, but decided it was too small. I then spread the second serviette on the table and used it as a side plate.
As I looked up at my husband, he opened his mouth and started to say: “W ...” And I said: “Don’t say it again.”
“I do expect a side plate, butter knife, place mat and butter and jam with my toast.
Whether I pay R17 or R170 for my breakfast, that is what I expect in a sit-down restaurant. I want Spur quality service - even at a Xxxxx!”

“Is this an example of narrowing the gap or just treating everyone like pigs?” I thought.
When the waitress brought the bill I noticed for the first time how sad she looked. She looked as if she was going to burst out in tears any moment. I tried to cheer her up by saying how nice the food was, but she ignored us.

I said to my husband he must give her a nice big tip to cheer her up. We left - never to return again.

One can be so quick to judge, but we never know what is happening in the lives of those we meet in passing.

Of what praat ek alles.

16-04-2009

March 2009 best Table Mountain webcams

(The original post is from http://white_granny.iblog.co.za/ )

This month’s White-Granny “Best Cape Town Webcam” award goes to two websites.

I can not decide which one is the best

You may vote in the comments section of this blog if you wish.

This month there is a toss-up between

The MAC website at
http://www.cape-town.at/webcam.htm

And our best maintained Milnerton Lagoon webcam and other great webcams:

http://www.kapstadt.de/livecam.htm

They are both great sites and give the visitor value for their click.

_________________________________________________________________

Other great live webcams:

http://www.xplorer.co.za/local/webcams/index.html

http://www.alltravel.co.za/webcam/

http://www.sanparks.com/

Parasitic behavior of doctors and medical aid schemes

The heading of the newspaper article reads: "Plan to replace doctors' ethical tariff comes under fire"

It was proposed that as from April patients sign a document agreeing that they are prepared to pay a doctor more than the medical aid is prepared to charge. This means that people struggling for money will have to suffer their illness and possibly die, or go into dept.

It may also mean that we may have to join another medical aid fund to pay the amount the doctors do not cover. Already I have to pay my doctor fifty rand upfront every time I visit her even if it is only for ten minutes to write out a script, she would then claim from the medical aid scheme what they are prepared to pay for the treatment.

I am a sixty year old woman, and my medical aid covers me for pregnancies, prostate cancer, miscarriages, and a host of other problems I do not need coverage for at this stage of my life.
If medical aids cover individuals according to heir needs, perhaps patients have the necessary coverage for their health requirements.

Paying into a medical aid scheme should mean peace of mind when one is ill. At this rate it is more viable for the majority of people to just put that money into a bank savings account for the purpose to use it only for medical expenses. If the employers will agree to pay their portion into such a bank account also, it would be a better option for most people. Then they can just join an emergency hospital and accident scheme for peace of mind.

Medical aid schemes should look at what they pay their executives and see if the money drain does not lie there. How much does the executive earn compared to the doctor? Who works the hardest? What does the patient deserve? Both the medical aid schemes and the doctor should serve the patient. Currently they both function like parasites sucking the patients' emotional and financial health.

It is time that companies learn to create a balance between the payment of executive staff, the profits the company incurs and the service they provide.

Are you a knife and fork person?

Are you a fork and knife person, or are you a knife and fork person?

In our family we would arrange our cutlery draw: knives, forks then spoons.

My husband's family arranges their cutlery: forks, knives and spoons. I always have the urge to change it.

If a woman is raised in a knife and fork family, the likelihood is that she will be carrying that gene over to her female offspring.

"so gemaak en so ge laat staan. "

An un expected find

I was right when I said it was going to be a strange year.

We went for a walk this morning, as per usual, when my husband picked up a stick and decided to take it with him to protect his dog from other dogs or something. It is not clear why he picked it up and it was not strictly a stick, it was a strong plastic pipe, like a broom handle.

When we arrived back home, I asked him to use it to knock some of the wild plums off from the high branches of our tree, because I wanted to make some wild plum jam, when something wrapped in newspaper fell from the pipe. At closer inspection we discovered it was someone's stash. Someone hid the stash inside the pipe for collection by someone else later. Neither of us can remember where we found the "stick". It was done so subconsciously.

There must be a little dagga plantation in our neighborhood, because it was still fresh.

Some years ago I found a lot of little dagga plants growing by a storm-water pipe at Milnerton beach. I thought at the time that the storm-water system carried the seeds there. My husband argued that it was possibly a place where they gather to smoke the stuff. It was near the beach and we all know lots of "onheiligheid" goes on by the beach at night.

Back to the top http://praatnietwaknie.blogspot.com/

To Granny White’s blog Http://www.white_granny.iblog.co.za

Read interesting facts about Dagga: (http://www.weed.co.za/st/content/marijuanatimeline/)

EVERY WORD COUNTS

Two priests were among the 1000 killed in a train wreck.

Arriving at the Pearly Gates, they found St. Peter and his assistant, Charlie, flustered by the rush. Addressing the two priests, St. Peter said, "Look you guys, we can’t handle all these people at once. Since you are men of the cloth, I can give you a special deal. You can sit on the bench over there and wait your turn like the rest of the folks, or I can let you go back, to Earth for two weeks, off the record, as anything you like." "Terrific!", said the first priest. "My life-long dream was to spend time in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado just enjoying the natural beauty, but I never got there. I'd like to go back as an eagle so I can soar over the mountains and really enjoy the majesty of those peaks and valleys."

"Done," said St. Peter, and the priest disappeared. "Now," he said to the second priest, "how about you?" "Off the record, eh? Well, considering what I had to give up to become a priest, I'd like to go back as a stud."

"Done!" said St. Peter, and the second priest disappeared.

Two weeks later, just about sundown, Charlie was about to go to dinner when St. Peter said, "Not yet, Charlie. I just remembered, we have two priests down on earth and their two weeks are up today. You have to go get them before we quit for the day. Now, finding the first one won't be hard. He's an eagle flying over the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Finding the second guy will be a bit tougher.

He's somewhere in Wisconsin on a snow tire."

Every word counts.

This narrative is from a book is “List More- Sell More” by Jerry Bresser ISBN 0-9611574-0-2

Read the book reviews

• (Http://www.white_granny.iblog.co.za )

• (http://www.amazon.com/review/product/0961157402/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?%5Fencoding=UTF8&showViewpoints=1)