If someone acquires an illness, the causal factor is an infection or a poisoning.   The first course of action is to discard any possibilities of a bacterial, parasitic or viral infection by using pertinent lab values, serological studies and gold standard cultures.  If none of these admonitions pan out, the disease is caused by a poisoning.  The most common poisonings result from the administration of metal salts.  A quick mass spectrometry or HPLC determines the causal agent and treatment follows.

Most chronic degenerative conditions like:

Diabetes

Autoimmune syndromes and lupus

Arteriosclerosis and myocarditis

Neuralgias and paresthesia’s                        

 Result from the acute or chronic ingestion of metal salts.  Our pluralistic society preserves foods with metal salts and this action while resulting in an increasing gross income for corporations and miniscule loss from spoilage, causes untold cases of acute renal failure, hypertension and heart attack. 

Iron salts cause diabetes mellitus and liver necrosis.  Chromium and Nickel cause autoimmune syndromes.  Heavy metals ruin the countercurrent multiplication apparatus in the kidney and provoke renal failure.  The accumulation of transition metal ions in the circulatory system causes hardening with resultant emboli and stricture.  Any metal ion administered chronically or in a huge bolus provokes an illness or organ failure.  Big business preserves foods with metals to increase profit.  What are the little men of this world to do when fresh produce and meat is not available for consumption.  Any baked goods, pastel or grain concoction can be considered suspect.  What can we do?

Chelation therapy reverses the degenerative processes of metal intoxication.  The problem with chelation therapy is cost and compliance.  Chelation by a physician is costly and may take up to ten years for completion.  A patient must meticulously and assiduously persevere in a prolonged chelation course to achieve health once again.

The chelation agents available are many.  Russian agents are unknown to western civilization.  The main agents known to American medicine are BAL, EDTA, desferoxamine and stibocaptine.  British anti-lewisite is efficacious against heavy metals.  EDTA is a commercial agent that can be administered orally that removes most divalent cations from the body.   Desferoxamine is an agent used for iron therapy and also mercury, it is given parenterally.   Stibocaptine is a Russian agent with poorly known qualities.  There exist other agents but this author is not familiar with them.  It is of the author’s opinion that chelation therapy is best administered by a physician trained in their use as all medicines have acute toxicities and side effects that are best noted and treated by those trained in their use.  As always, Medicine is expensive and the long term treatment with chelation agents might be out of the pocket book of many to whom it is most surely deserved. 

As human beings ply the long road called life, if they survive long enough, they will ultimately encounter renal failure or cancer.  Organ failure particularly renal failure happens from prolonged absorption of metal salts.  These salts once absorbed by the body decrease organ function in proportion to concentration and eventually cause failure.   Being a carbon nitrogen life form, salt accumulation is not the subject of this topic but cancer is.

Cancer occurs when the DNA of a cell is damaged to such an extent that normal existence is not possible.  Three things cause cancer: organic chemicals, ionizing radiation and specific viruses.  Before we ascertain the epidemiology of origin, let us look at the beginnings.  Many moons ago Bonner et al

Ran assays called hybridization curves on DNA.  On a plot of concentration versus time, he obtained a sigmoidal relationship he extrapolated to cell function.  DNA is composed of functional genes in the minority juxtaposed amongst a majority of spacer DNA.  The functional DNA was the low concentration DNA and spacer DNA the high concentration DNA.   With such a physical makeup, nature protects the functional DNA from mutation by interposing it with extreme amounts of spacer DNA.  It is extremely unlikely that chemicals or radiation can damage specific gene DNA because there is so little of it in proportion to spacer DNA.  If a gene is damaged by carcinogens and rendered non-functional, an alternate gene exists and an alternate protein is created by the cell to replace it.  The cell has all the genes necessary to maneuver the organism from Birth (ontogeny) to adultism (phylogeny).  If a carcinogen destroys a gene function by mutation, a gene with a similar protein during embryogenesis replaces it.   This is why cancer cells express somatic antigens similar or identical to primitive stem cells, these antigens are termed onco-fetal antigens.  If a carcinogen mutates a region of DNA that codes for replication, that cell grows continuously, out of context with a healthy adult cell.  This is called metastatic cancer.  The key element here is that carcinogens change the base structure of DNA or cross link it and when the damage is so extensive that the cell cannot repair itself it becomes cancerous.  It follows that cancer results from extensive damage to DNA not point mutations found and chronicled by molecular biologists

It is currently thought that a given cancer cell of a given tissue has characteristic gene damage characterized by restriction endonuclease mapping of the genome. This thought of genotyping a cancer cell to determine its biological tendency is post hoc analysis of the ultimate.  A cancer cell of a given tissue suffers from so much DNA damage that the endonuclease mapping characterizes the cell of a distinct cancer type only because so much DNA has been altered. Somatotyping a tumor has no diagnostic significance or clinical prognostic value.   In the cancer clinic the most vehement tumors evidence cells with extreme DNA damage.  Horrible cancers look like primitive stem cells histologically and biochemically.  This fact only alerts the clinician that the patient undergoes extensive exposure to carcinogenesis on a daily basis.

We see that nature protects the genes by distributing the functional codons amongst extensive spacer DNA making a direct hit on a codon by carcinogen a remote event.  However, when this does occur, the cell can use another copy of that gene from a more primitive aspect that may not function as well as the copy given to the adult form.  When the DNA alters irreversibly or a hit ensues on a proliferation gene, cancer ensues. 

Now that we know what cancer is, the question is how to treat it.  Statins or gene products are as relevant as snake oil. Alkylating agents and methotrexate destroy what is left of a functional immune system so the host dies of a septic infection.  The only possible way this author can think of to treat cancer is to mutate the cells even further, until they die with nucleotide analogue inhibitors or antimitotic agents.  This way the cellular limb of the immune response can eventually within five years identify the cancer as foreign and eliminate it.  Treating the neoplasm with antibodies created by mouse or tissue culture immunocyctes, directed against oncofetal antigens creates an autoimmune event further weakening the host immune system.

It says in the Old Testament, that all the medicine mankind needs to survive is right in front of us, waiting to be discovered.  Plant extracts like quinine, fungal extracts like cyclines and more might have activity against cancer. We have to look at them again.  Using HPLC and crystallography we might discover new potions or tinctures from eukaryotes that evidence activity against rapidly dividing cells. There is a lot of work ahead of us until we get to where we want to be.  Or as the marines herald; “when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”  I hope I live long enough to see it. 

Beautiful world all around

Sit inside without a sound

Outside specters will creep

Noiseless silhouettes that seem

Looking again at the phone

Pick it up and no one is on

In a room alone with a ghost

Stick a needle in my toe

Green and beautiful weather

With it and no one to share

Cooking inside in my kitchen

Hoping some day for better

Invisible forms that seethe

That runs for corners and deeps

Disappearing again with a leap

Touching me while I sleep

Freedom is not really free

Is priceless for the ultimate fee

No one seems to be around

Whispers never sound really loud

Somewhere someone is weeping

Waking up from a daytime dream

Someone is ripe for the keeping

Praying for the time they can leave.

It is the most exclusive marina on the west coast. Immense in size, single slips on the edge of promontory’s span outward into a spacious harbor complete with breakwater a half a mile long.   Big boats berth on the end of the single slips that sell for more money than most people make in a month.  On land there is a huge club-hotel for the elite to water before they go out on a voyage.  Every day the elegant buffets serve hundreds who spend their time eating, playing and sleeping.  Huge fish islands and omelets made to order inundate the other half who dresses in elegant vestment in order to attend the sumptuous repast.  All this is tangential and distant for the real reason the other half spend their money in an endless hole of costs to float about in the ocean away from the prying eyes of the law.  Man is a Norwegian adventurer.

Parking is ample for the few and usually is.   Walking out to the platform on plastic trails anchored to concrete pylons, white with sea time blue trim is a journey in itself.  The boats and yachts and speeders span out into the horizon as someone, anyone makes their way to the end berths that house a single huge ship, a toy for big boys to play with.  These huge yachts are features unto themselves.   Constructed of plastic reinforced with fiber glass, the white shimmering majesty of ocean vessel astound and amaze and captivate anyone who would believe that these things are made for people who are looking for something to do. This is at least a forty two foot long luxury ship. The boat encompasses bedrooms and staterooms and large kitchen that cluster about a main control house with wheel, chair and electronics. Down below, accessible by stairs is the engine room.   Two meticulously handcrafted turbo diesels amass side by side spinning twin shafts aft.  The engines alone are beautiful, with shiny chrome housings and colored metal accoutrements that make these powerhouses state of the art.  Anyone who goes out on the open ocean on a ship knows diesel is the way to go because conventional gasoline engines don’t work when water gets into the gasoline tank or into the carburetor inlet.  Diesel engines run in the cold and wet and water in the fuel seems to make them run even better. 

This is Earl’s ship.  He is a property developer and needs a place to get away from it all.  This yacht can sail to Hawaii and back on a single load of diesel fuel and the trip can be done in style.   Storms and squalls and hells fury cannot daunt a ship made to thwart the best nature has to offer.  For what reason someone would have such a device is beyond the imagination in a city where no one walks and a new battery on a set of wheels is enough to get you anywhere you want to go, anytime of the day or night. 

This is where I hang out when we are at anchor says Earl.   This is my stateroom.   In a storage closet closed with metal straps I keep my weapon to defend against invaders.   Out on the open ocean where there is no one around, anything can happen and a captain needs to have protection from invaders and pirates who can show up at inopportune times and ruin your adventure.  In the plastic bag is a Thompson 45 sub machine gun.  I keep it in a bag so the salt and corrosion can’t get to it while it sits under wraps.  With three full magazines and a drawer full of ammunition, I can keep anyone at bay while we broadcast a mayday to the coast guard.  Isn’t it a beauty?  A Fully automatic rifle with a sixteen inch barrel and hardwood stock that is ready to rock and roll at a moment’s notice.

It is heavy says the Wracks

It has to be heavy for fully automatic fire because the recoil pushes the barrel around. 

I see, say the Wracks. 

I like to go out on weekend cruises and take friends with me says Earl.   Sometime you might be invited to come along.

Thank you says the Wracks.

Wracks and his family disembark down the Shipley stairs onto the plastic dock.  The Fonz is not around and usually isn’t for this sort of thing. 

Are you going out on a boat asks the Wracks.

I don’t think so says father Wracks.  Earl just likes to show his boat to anyone who is interested.

 Does he hang out at the club and eat in the fancy restaurants questions the Wracks.

I don’t think so.  He uses the facilities to entertain his clients for business ventures says father Wracks. It is time we get home.

The marina has its own freeway.  It has the number sixty.  The Fonz would use the entry ramp to drag race his 911 Porsche turbo Carrera.  The freeway eventually turns into highway one and before too long the Wrackers are back in Tranquil hills in their little hose with a brick entry and light post that goes on sometimes at night when guests arrive.   Grandma is in her bedroom with a speaker to her ear watching reruns of the Lawrence Welk show.  She waves hello.  It is winter now and darkness arrives earlier than normal for this neck of the woods.  The Wracks goes outside.  He can smell the sea air wafting strongly up through the canyon to the development.  The sky is grey and the sun sets orange against the horizon studded with fluffy purple clouds.  The stars and night will arrive soon.  The ocean wetness scrubs the air so the ozone does not obscure the nighttime sky. Interesting is how the other half lives, living in their own adventure bought with non-olfactory money and nothing else.  He has his life and career to live on and that is what he looks forward to.

Dinner is ready Wracks.  Come and get it says mother.

The Wracks goes in, shuts the door, and joins his family for dinner. 

Winter

Grey and more grey

Dimness covers everything

Cold wet quietness

In the middle of winter

Staring out a window

Framed by old memories

Lowly lighted roomness

Winter slowly ebbing

Iridescent monitor

Becomes my companion

Coolness down to the bone

Weather will not let go

In my little space

Sitting on my bed

Together with my thoughts

I realize it is April

Red budding blooms

Peak their way out

From the grey stillness

So very far away

Good weather occurs almost every Christmas in Tranquil hills.  It never rains.  This year is no exception. The ritual Christmas dinner assembles in the kitchen by Grandma and mother Wracks.  Tonight there is a huge eye round roast which was the Wracks grandfather’s favorite, with baked potatoes and sour cream, boiled green beans with oil and garlic and garlic bread.  The Yorkshire pudding will be made as the dinner is served as it is best when hot and sinks when it gets cold. The ingredients include meat drippings, flour and baking powder and   it bakes at four hundred degrees for fifteen minutes. In the dining room, the big oak table sits eight and seven will partake of the ceremonial religious repast.  The best wedding china sets out on the table with ceramic napkin rings and linen of stark white.  The red table cloth with a flower centerpiece demarks this festivity as Christmas day.  Next to the fine china abut a water glass and a wine glass in crystal showcasing the sterling silver flatware done four pieces to a place setting.  The food will place on the pass-through arcade and the guests will go first to savor the fine cooking buffet style.  Wracks mother is a gourmet chef and authored a cookbook the size of the Bible under a pseudonym which was her name before it changed.   This chronicles as another story.  The clock displays five thirty p.m. and the guests should be arriving presently. Grandmother hears a car outside and opens the door to greet the guests.  Sallie and Earl step out of a silver coupe de ville Cadillac.  Earl has a bottle of hard liquor in his hand and Sallie has a box of chocolates. This couple attends the same church as mother Wracks and is in the same guild.  Earl is middle sized man with greying blond hair wearing an expensive charcoal grey suit.  Sallie is petite and demur and the plush mink coat on her shoulders almost dwarfs her small slender body. The stole is almost the same color as her hair silver beige and must be quite expensive.  Earl greets the Wracks and hands the bottle of Scotch Whiskey to father Wracks.

This is the best Scotch says Earl.  Save it for when Sallie and I come over.  It is all I drink. 

Both Earl and Sallie herald from Texas from some successful family there and the large solitaire diamond on her middle finger must be at least five karats and flashes when direct light impinges upon it.  Sallie has three children, one a girl the same age as Wracks, a son, and another who she marks as adopted. They live in the most fashionable town in Los Angeles and their house presents on a one acre lot which includes a swimming pool, maid’s quarters and three car garages.  The Wracks mother met her at a church gathering and she announces that she has a daughter of marrying age. Wracks cannot understand why someone with their wealth would have any interest in a middle class family, but they do.  The guests move to the living room, a space with a large window over green and white shag carpeting and antique furniture. 

Make me a drink inquires Earl.  I would like a double and the wife would like a Manhattan on the rocks

Father Wracks moves to his makeshift bar above the television and complies.  He then serves the drinks to the guest.  They commiserate for a while with mom and Dad until Grandma announces that the roast is done and the Yorkshire pudding is in the oven.  Everyone shows, then sits down, even the Fonz who nests on the right hand of mother like he normally does. Father Wracks cuts into the large Roast.  It is rare just like their generation likes it.   Wracks prefers medium done but will eat whatever he can get and tonight it is Christmas dinner.  The essence slowly flows out of the bright red meat onto the platter.  The greasy Yorkshire pudding has risen and shows up on the buffet line and the guests are first and line up and heap the good food upon their plates.   Mom Wracks really is a good cook.  She really is.  The Wracks is last as usual and takes whatever he can get.  Father Wracks pours a red cabaret sauvignon into his glass and passes the bottle around.  It empties quite rapidly.  He then chinks his fork upon his glass, stands up and proposes a toast:

Who in the world is better than us?  Manga.

And the meal begins.  Grandma does not eat much and puts her meat on the Wracks plate.  She watches out for him.  Then the desert follows; a blueberry pie and an apple pie with vanilla ice cream.  The wracks have a piece of each.  After dinner the guests and the folks move back into the living room and bring a bottle of French cognac and snifter glasses in with them.  The Wracks is not much of a drinker.  He and grandmother rinse the dishes; load the dishwasher and then the Wracks scrubs the cooking pans with steel wool and takes out the trash.  He says hello to his little terrier locked in the clothes washer room so he wouldn’t terrorize the guests.  Wracks put some meat scraps in his dish and the dog barks and it is Christmas. The Wracks returns to his room he shares with his brother.  At about ten o’clock, or more, grandma announces the guests are leaving.  Wracks returns and helps Sallie into her Cadillac and closes the door.  In unison everyone says Merry Christmas and the meeting culminates.  The Wracks gathers up the cognac glasses and spent napkins and brings them all into the kitchen.  He then walks to the living room and sits in the chair next to the Christmas tree and watches the lights blink on and off repeatedly.  The ornaments are hand made by grandma, sequins embedded with pins on Styrofoam balls with names and scrolls upon them.  The flickering lights impinge and dance upon the reflective sequins.  The few gifts of the year surround the base of the tree from the morning opening.  The Wracks is in college and he doesn’t need anything except tuition money and this is all he gets.  He is the lucky one. He lets the dog back in the family room and puts up the dog barricade and retires to his room.  He is tired and slowly starting to fall asleep.  He takes off his pants and fits into bed and then into unconsciousness. The fonz doesn’t live here anymore.

Christmas is the most important holiday of the year.  It is a day where we celebrate our ethical values and charity and vow to make the world a better place.  For the Wracks, Christmas was a day with a family and a good meal and dose of love.  He would not give up his memories for anything, because they are special and meaningful.  Some people don’t have any of these simple yet tantamount quantities in their lives.  Christmas is love and giving and rejoicing in the gifts and bounty the God provides.  In Tranquil Hills it is Christmas day.  The Wracks is the lucky one. 

Fall begins in the month of October

When the harvest is ready to go

Brown leaves and fruits of our labor

Seed that long have been sown

The wind becomes chill in October

The clouds now are safe in their home

Days become shorter and shorter

While the mornings start to chill to the bone

October is not quite November

Birds flutter and fly in formation

The season is the beginning of winter

The start of white yuletide Novation

Let not the reaper forget to remember

To cherish the bounty until spring

As the cool quiet evenings of October

Herald a new beginning of things

October is not near to December

When winter slows life to a crawl

Orange harvest moon couldn’t be rounder

In the still black nights of fall

The stars up above shine and glimmer

At the cool mother earth down below

We have all forgotten the hot summer

The green leafy life that has grown

Orange is the color of October

And purple too on the other end

As the chaff is stored up for fodder

The season bids adieu to a friend

Just as the crops are stored for winter

In cold long months that are lean

The harvest season ends with a whisper

On the day that is called Halloween

Thanksgiving is the end of November

When we celebrate the accumulation of wealth

The harvest again is over

There begins a new season of hope

Fall begins in the month of October

My second favorite time of the year

The season marks the start of long labor

Orange moon and violet night in arrears

The Harvest marks the year in remainder

For a cold winter sleep in transition

Awaiting the sun to rejoinder

When the spring brings new life to fruition

A light and peculiar tapping, not a curious or raucous rapping, happens at my windowpane in the dark, in the night, almost at morning, and the day is 4 AM. “Wake up wracks, the Bu will be happening soon,”

Whispers BG.  “Don’t you ever sleep,” intones Wraks.  “The Bu will be happening,” whispers BG. “Get up.”  “How did you get in my yard without the Dog barking,” asks Wraks.  “Pun kin is with me,” says BG.  “Say hi to wraks punk in.”  A little dog growls somewhere in the dark.  “For the right to surf the Bu when it is happening I require a pack of smokes and two cans of Coca Cola.”   “Bring some bread too.” Whispers BG.

Wraks gets up as if summoned by God and grabs his druid robe and wetsuit that hang behind the door.  He opens his door and creeps to the kitchen.   Grabbing a brown paper grocery bag, wraks shovels food into the bag, grabs some coke cans from the refrigerator and steals a pack of Pall Mall Gold from the stogey stash in the cupboard up above the vacuum cleaner storage bin. Outside, BG sits on the step behind the kitchen door and pets punk in.  “Good morning,” says BG.  “I have a seven foot three board I want you to ride today.  The fin is crooked but it was shaped by Rdick and it is a square tailed gun glassed violet.  Let’s go. Do you have the smokes?”  “I have everything,” promises wraks.  “Get in the car and let’s go. I want to be out at third point at morning light.” 

The remains of the night shelter the dark green car from the overhead lights on the street of Bacon way.  Close to the beach, the wet ocean smell of seaweed and brine reach the street a mile away from Pacific Coast highway.  Cool somnambulent darkness prohibits the morning from starting and the hatchback car moves at light speed down the way, onto Sunset, then to the highway stretching north for one hundred miles.  “I didn’t hear breaking waves at my house,” says wraks.  “The swell will hit just as we paddle out,” says BG. “How do you know,” asks wraks.  “I have my sources,” says GB.  “Who are your sources,” questions wraks.  “A friend, far away,” speaks BG “See that white powder spilled on the carpet under the dashboard,” says BG. “yes,” says wraks.  “Touch it and put your finger in your mouth.”  “What is it?” says wraks.  “It is performance powder.” Says BG.  “What will it do?” says wraks.  “It will make you surf better.” Smiles BG.  Wraks complies, wets his finger, touches the spilled powder and puts his finger in his mouth.  “It does not have any taste.” Says wraks.   “We are almost there.” Says BG “Get ready.”

The city of Malibu permits free parking at surf rider beach if a person arrives before six AM.   Four vans sit in the slot next to the wall that has graffiti written on the surfaces.  One sentence written in black spray paint reads, “Mickey Dora is the Cat.” Another says, “Kooks will die.”  A final epithet written in dripping blue paint reads, “Malibu Masochist.”  The wave riders huddle next to their cars, all of them in wetsuits, their boards freshly waxed with paraffin, some smoking, some eating bread, some sipping soup from plastic top ramen cups. One person sits in a van with huge headphones on his ears, drinking Jack Daniels bourbon whiskey from the bottle like seven up. “Who is that.” Asks Wraks.  “That’s Moon doggy. Do not mind him, he takes pictures.” Says BG.  “Are you ready,” asks BG, “Ready as I ever will be,” says wraks.  “Lets jog up to third.” Says BG.  The race is on.

Pebbles, rocks, starfish, shells, crabs, and seaweed provide an obstacle course in the dark, for two people running without shoes, boards tucked underneath their arms up to the top of third point.  Two other figures crouch on the beach, waiting.  “Do you have a light,” asks BG.  “I do,” says the phantom in the dark.  BG light up a cigarette and hands it to wraks then light another for himself.  The four wait in the dark for ten minutes then the light starts to permeate the space and the beach and the sound of waves becomes more prominent and slowly breaking waves come into view.  “Lets launch,” says BG.  Wraks and BG hold their boards with both hands and run into the tide pool brimming with white water.  Stroking hard, the paddle out is quick in a lull and the two sit outside in twilight in the morning at the Bu. The two other on the beach now race for the water and a six foot swell appears on the horizon.  BG as always takes the first one and wraks scratches for safety outward into the ocean.  A similar wave rears up and begins to break.  Wraks wheels around and pulls hard into a late takeoff and the race is on. 

 Back on the beach BG says to wraks, “See, I told you it would be good.  It should get bigger all through the morning.  The light of sun comes on and the beach shows as a low tide estuary situation with waves breaking down the line, roundly with a hint of offshore wind to hold up the faces and make spray stream off the top. “Get as many waves as you can before the zoo arrives.” Insists BG.  “When I wave to you, it is time to go. “   Waves fill in at surf rider beach at low tide breaking in shallow water across third point reef.  Four feet, then six feet, then eight to ten foot sets coming in three at a time and the Rdick square tail gun works good.  Eventually, the sun looms brightly over the mountain to the east and the day begins and the waves come in and break and surfers ride them all.  BG waves his hands on the beach and wraks starts to paddle in.   The parking lot fills up totally,  but it is too early for girls in bikinis to show off their young curvaceous bodies.  Wraks and BG dress covered by their druid robes and stack the boards and then enter the cab.  They both pull out of the parking lot before noon as the horde of weekend surfers and beautiful girls descend on the bu to become the one.  “If the tide is high in the morning, like it usually during the summer, come back at two PM when the tide starts dropping and the waves will increase as the morning crew rest on the beach,” says BG “I have to go to work.”

The green hatchback accelerates quietly down the Pacific coast highway toward Tranquil Hills.  Up on the mountain over the ocean with Mellowmans and Bacon as cross streets sits the house of wraks. Wraks unloads his gear from the hatchback and throws the equipment on the ivy under the big pine tree. Pun kin barks behind the gate. “Wuuuu! See you soon.” BG waves, bat turns the hatchback and is gone.

Wraks washes off his wetsuit and gear with cold water as sea water corrodes everything rapidly.  The dog makes whining noises and wags his tail.  Wraks is home and enters the house but no one is home except grandma who watches Lawrence welk with a speaker glued to her ear. “Hi grandma,” says wraks. Grandma smiles and waves.  Wraks closes her door, the dog goes to his cushion and falls asleep and wraks sits alone with his thoughts and a twenty pound world history book to read written by Arnold Toynbee.   The day goes on and then the light fades and another day happened like pages in the book of life.  All of this before the darkness in the days when ripping big waves was all that really mattered.

You have to live there.  On PCH and moonrise Avenue, Next to Ted’s restaurant, God built a long reef of cobblestones that deposited from Sea Castle Mountain and the lair of Estat.  Too bad the beach sits in the shadow of Catalina Island and Clemente Island to the south. Farm Beige fishes the reef at moonrise and usually wins the halibut derby every year.   Seaweed covers the reef and forms a beautiful brownish green canopy offshore in the water in front of the island.  The Towers hangs off the cliff above moonrise.  Huge pylons set into the cliff enable a huge hotel like structure to perch precariously over the PCH.  The blue sky hover over the pebble strewn beach with coarse white sand and buttressed point, where a parking lot saves paradise and Teds restaurant smells like steak and French fries.  The white sharks that hover off shore love the garbage Ted’s pumps into the ocean and the huge beasts can be felt near and closer when a surfer cares to surf alone.  The fear, the sickening feeling of seizure, strikes lonely surfers because Moonrise heralds as an overflow surf spot for beginners, refuse and stooges.  The only way to get the break with tremendous form is to live there and call in sick to work when it happens.  Once a year or two or three, moonrise point breaks better then Lanikea on Oahu, Hawaii and fifteen second tube rides become the norm rather than the exception.  The secret lies in the shallow reef that only functions when the swell impinges directly from the northwest, bypassing Catalina and focusing on moonrise.  When a fifteen foot west swell enters Monica Bay , only surfrider beach breaks better and half the world is there and not at moonrise.

Lanikea on the North shore of Oahu lives a short drive up from Haleiwa, down from Eukai and next to Chuns.  When Lanikea works, a long wall a quarter mile long breaks down the beach at light speed.  Moonrise reef breaks rounder but rarely, and appears as an ephemeral spirit enlivening the life of a lonely nomadic wave rider who lives up the canyon a mile away close to the darkness those envelopes Tranquil Hills. When moonrise reef breaks big, a rider enters the wave at the point in front of the restaurant.  The wave then slows down for a second and then lines up on the reef like a long wall and breaks as a vortex for fifteen seconds all the way to the beach.  Swells like this hit moonrise for one day only and then drop off tremendously. The next day the surf is meager.  The west swell must peak at ten or more feet for the reef to work properly.  People live near moonrise or they don’t.  Frequently the only other thing swimming at moonrise are great white sharks attracted by the garbage and runoff from Sea Castle.  They rarely come up but someone can feel them close.  

Wracks had the pleasure of sharing big waves with that person who sang out of Seattle and died up there.  He was a student at University of Seattle in the health sciences.  He and utopia would nab the big sets with scarcely anyone else to contend with except the Brazilian grappling expert who retired after a successful MMA career.  Wracks never bothered with the Brazilian even though he would knock shoot his board at Wracks and threaten a beatdown.  The waves when they happened were just too good to think about doing anything else.  Wracks, utopia, and the Brazilian together with some white tips were the only ones out at moonrise and would watch the steady flow of traffic going north to rich man’s land while waiting for big sets. Most of the time Moonrise looks like a placid lake with ripples lapping up on shore in view the windows at the restaurant. In his youth, wracks would walk down the canyon, past the swami realization center and with his homemade surfboard paddle out at moonrise. Wracks would the walk up Moonrise Avenue, up the canyon and back to his home and family and friends and the darkness soon to envelope tranquil hills and mark the countryside for ever more.

In the free flow of consciousness existing in the mind of Wracks these memories flood consciousness and overflow into a keyboard hooked up USB to a cheap laptop. Late at night wracks wishes to share the beauty of the world, the accomplishment of athletic achievement and the free spirit of youth that reside in an older body now.  The girls, the waves, the dark force, they have all come and gone but what remains is moonrise, surf rider and Zero in the middle of the heart of terror set in opulent America. Wracks was there but not there anymore.

Diagnosis

Clinical diagnosis delineates a mathematical exercise with a relational database.  For reference consult “Clinical Pathology” Robbins and Cotrans or Harrisons, clinical basis of internal medicine.  These ideas are not those of the author and derive from personal instruction from titans in the art and science of medicine in the twentieth century, no names avowed.

Disease is not a normal condition of life.  Disease happens as man meanders throughout life in search of fame, fortune and well being.  The sorrow of reality in an earthly existence derives from the following utterance:

“Ninety percent of disease is iatrogenic”

With this mathematical paradigm in mind, let this author begin…………

Disease is a result one of three different things:

An infection

Intoxication

A physical trauma

Infections result from invasion or colonization by bacteria, parasites or fungi.  Intoxications are poisonings with substances interfering with cellular metabolism. These substances run from common household cleaners, detergents and disinfectants to raw organic chemicals encountered in the workplace.   Chronic disease happens secondary to chronic exposure to metals and toxins that permeate the foodstuff or appear in personal hygiene products… Physical traumas ruin or destroy organs and tissues and deplete the body’s reserve of replacement function.   An unattended gunshot wound eventually causes disability or infection or a foreign body reaction.  Repeated jarring to the brain case causes bleeding within the cranial vault, with focal coagulation and loss of neurons, ultimately lowering intelligence. 

The best and cheapest way to preserve food and spare spoiling due to bacterial action is to infuse the food with heavy or transition metal ions.  All food processors and corporations are party to this effect. Canning costs a lot of money because high temperatures and fuel costs drive up prices.  Salting food leaves the food salty and it needs to be boiled to drive out the salt.  Refrigeration is the cheapest alternative currently, but some bacteria still grow in the cold and frozen food eventually becomes unpalatable.  Heavy metals like lead and transition metals like iron and nickel accumulate in the kidney and brain primarily.  This is why all old people have decreased renal function and concurrent memory loss or senile dementia. Other organs like the heart and brain are affected but to a lesser degree.   It seems having a healthy population with a shortened lifespan is better than periodic epidemics of food poisoning and loss of revenue due to spoilage.  This is what the money says.

Each profession has its associated morbidity.   Office workers suffer from diabetes and heart attacks.  Chemical workers eventually contract liver failure or primary cancer.  Petroleum workers have an increased incidence of brain cancer and colon cancer.  Radiation workers have higher incidences of leukemia and lymphoma.  Agricultural workers suffer from zoonotic infections of bacteria or parasites and endocrine failure due to exposure to high levels of insecticides. The common variable to all occupational illnesses is that the toxin or poison is absorbed to a greater degree through the alimentary tract.  This means when at work don’t eat any food near chemicals, ores, or ionizing radiation sources. 

What is meant by 90 percent of disease is iatrogenic is the revelation that human beings are always associated with disease and in their absence acquired illness occurs in low frequency.

Age epochs and disease

Children

If a child enters a clinic, probabilities indicate the child has an infection. If a human being has reddening, temperature rise or swelling, he or she has an acute infection and must be treated with antibiotics.  This is the calor, rubor, tumor rule.    If infection rules out, the child is intoxicated and a toxicology screen mandates. A physician then treats the intoxication by removing the agent from the home or treating the symptoms appropriately.

Adults

If an adult enters a clinic, they probably have intoxication due after along lifetime accumulation of processed food.  Hypertension ensues from decreasing kidney function secondary to metal poisoning, Diabetes happens from exposure to insecticides or ingestion of common household chemicals.  Heart disease occurs mainly in the well to do and follows from a lifetime of excess.  Rib eye steaks, cream puffs pastries and pies saluted with alcoholic beverages after spending the day in an office chair.   Rationality mandates a toxicology panel and a mass spectrometry assay from a tissue sample.  If the panel yields no positive results, then the adult has an occult infection masked by an overlying condition. Statistically, the highest level of health occurs in childhood. Most children are not murdered or poisoned.   Adults and men particularly, experience morbidity and mortality due to violence of an obvious nature.  Surgery becomes the method of choice to alleviate bodily trauma.

Maturity and the elderly

Older people tend to experience chronic disease due to the inability of the body to detoxify poisons and the accumulation of metal ions.  Organ failure, cancer, arthritis and dementia start to appear at an alarming rate and increase proportionally in mathematical direct relation to age.  Strategy aims at removing heavy metals from the body with chelating therapy and purging of lipo-soluble toxins by dieresis or dialysis

These are some things spoken by the best physicians of the twentieth century:

“If a patient has a disease and you cannot figure out what it is, they have rabies.”   Dr. X

“Multiple sclerosis happens due to prolonged anti-cholinesterase   intoxication.”  Dr. X

“A medical education is wasted on a woman because they would rather have babies.”  Dr. X

“Common things tend to occur commonly.”    Dr. Y

“Before you deliver your patient to a surgeon, exhaust all treatment modes and modalities.  Dr. Q

“What people say and what people do are two different things.’   The master of the game.

“In human existence, black and white do not exist.  The human condition occurs in shades of grey.” Dr. Z

Conclusion

Medical diagnosis is a mathematical relation with an equal sign.  There is no subjective component to medical diagnosis and with current advances in technology and laboratory medicine, physicians might be relegated to archive at acute care settings.  Medicine is said to be an art and a science but this author leans more to the science side.  With economic reality, human interaction becomes more and more subjective to mask the power of the good old American buck.  It is impossible to delay or prevent the power of the ruling majority of the people in any way.  Sometimes a machine is a better alternative to a wait and see or boycotting behavior in the clinic.  As my father used to say, “when you get old, your will eventually return to the church”   God is the only one who can help us.