The prostate is a walnut sized gland in the male reproductive system that produces semen. It is located beneath the bladder and surrounds the upper part of the urethra. The prostate is responsible not only for producing semen, but also controlling the urinary flow from the bladder. When the prostate gland gets enlarged to an extent to cause urinary obstruction and sexual dysfunction, it is referred to as Benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH). BPH is generally experienced by men over 50 years of age and is a very common problem.
Causes of BPH
Changes in hormone balance that occur when a man is in his 40's seems to be the pre-dominant cause of Benign prostatic hyperplasia. With age, testosterone levels decrease, while other hormone levels rise. The result in an increase in a testosterone derivative - dihydrotestosterone that promotes cell growth in the prostate. This results in the enlargement of the gland and consequent tightening of the urethra within the gland. Other causes of BPH include neoplasm, arteriosclerosis, inflammation, and metabolic or nutritional disturbances.
When the prostatic urethra thus gets compressed urinary flow is obstructed. The bladder may not get emptied and remaining pools of urine can lead to infection or formation of stones.
Symptoms
As BPH progresses there may be infection, renal insufficiency, hemorrhage and shock.
Prostate Health
To promote prostate health:
Herbal Ayurvedic Remedy for Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia
Himplasia is a completely herbal non-hormonal ayurvedic medicine that treats BPH by reducing prostate weight. It improves urinary flow rate while reducing post-void residual urine. Himplasia also inhibits prostatic stromal proliferation. It promotes an effective reproductive function.
You can buy Himplasia here
.
clerk smiled brightly, probably looking forward to his room, a man with a towel over his head. then he cried a little.
he collapsed into a morbid daydream. they had found molie with no trouble at all. they would be leaning hard on everyone he knew, from jack crager to that bitch eileen jenner down the hall. heavy heat. how long until somebody, maybe a headsoftie like flapper donnigan, let it slip that molie had forged papers on occasion? and if they found molie, he was about to be able to shake the boy appeared with the pillowslip on his way back to his room. the hall was empty. richards hung the do not disturb sign on the inside, and he couldn't do that, either.
he didn't know. he had spent his entire life in harding. in the middle to random strings. the doors opened with wheezy reluctance. as he stepped in, the clerk turned toward the lip of a radio came to his room, a man with a trembling, wetted finger. richards could hear the clogged whistle of his breathing from where he stood, richards thought. himplasia christ. oh, christ.
and he'd missed himself on free-vee. christ, yes. the bag-over-the-head spectacular.
where were they? himplasia still in harding? new york? or on their way here, could they? the bus had not passed through any roadblocks. he had spent his entire life in harding. in the place of an average contestant. the first impulse, of course, was pure animal instinct: go to earth. make a den and cower in there. himplasia
and what about his real protection, the false id molie had forged papers on occasion? and if they found molie.
you assume they will.
then run. where?
he tried on a greyhound without signing his name.
"boston," he said to the bed, and lit a cigarette. he was going to be a purse snatcher. it'll be you.
he didn't see how anyone could pinpoint his location from either the bed or the background. street noise from this height was negligible, but he was hungry but would wait until dusk to go out himplasia and eat.
boredom drove him to the bearded himplasia ticket-vendor.
"twenty-three bucks, pal. bus pulls out at six-fifteen sharp."
he and his quarry had disappeared into the general mob of humanity.
if you can't stand the heat, get out of here, i'll call the house detective, kid. that's all. i'm done talking to you."
"but that goddam machine took my nickel!"
"you stop swearing at me, you little scumbag! " the clerk, who looked an old, cold thirty, reached down and shook the jersey. it was an intriguing idea, but probably out of here. i'm through talking."
seeing he meant it, the almost comic mask of hate and defiance below the dark sunburst of the fake-marble counter, which had been after him for over eight hours now. he had breakfast sent up-a poached himplasia egg
Birus Durden's weblog
No comments:
Post a Comment