A miracle for Mr Hockey? Science vs Stem Cells vs Stroke

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Back when ice hockey was new to the American South in 1973-ish, with Atlanta (Flames) and Houston (Aeros) getting teams involving the sport on ice, I had this idea for a feature magazine story.

I could tell the story of the sporting franchises trying to make inroads in cultures where  ice was something to put in their mint juleps, and a puck was someone in Willie Shakespeare’s  A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Maybe hockey would even come to New Orleans, where I was based, so I could get in on the fan action. (As a former player, the closest I could get to ice was the annual Holiday On Ice show that came to town every few years, set up a temporary rink and allowed Yankees like me to skate early Sunday mornings)


I would get an interview with the Houston Aeros star player, Gordie Howe, who had been lured out National Hockey League retirement in his mid-40’s to play with the World Hockey Association. Maybe it had something to with playing with two sons, Mark and Marty. He was, after  all, Mr Hockey, already a member of NHL Hall of Fame, and the namesake of the Gordie Howe Hat Trick – scoring a goal, an assist, and involved in a fight during one game.

I contacted the Houston Aeros, outlined my story, and they agreed to let me interview Gordie after a game. Like an addict too long from his drug, I was overdosed with images/sounds/smells from the game, when I walked into the locker room to find Mr Hockey straight out of the showers, glistening in his birthday suit. I remember being overwhelmed with the Adonis-like figure (in a non-rainbow way), and saying to myself:  I hope look that good when I’m 45.

Fast forward now through 41 years and you’ll find that Gordie and I have both had strokes, with his making news.

His stroke, according to his family, left him unable to walk or speak. He was described as ‘catatonic.’

They had mentally prepared for the end; his funeral, the eulogies, the things that are left unsaid, but you’re aware of.

That was the beginning of December of 2014. Fortunately the youngest of Gordie’s sons is a doctor and he saw some literature about a treatment in Mexico involving stem cells.

Now you’d think that with all that doctor training would produce some real-life scientific scepticism, but Dr  Murray Howe arranged to have Mr Hockey transported to Tijuana and get the treatment. And then:

“At Tijuana medical clinic where, on Dec. 8, the elder Howe sat straight up in bed just hours after an injection of about 100 million stem cells and demanded with an astonishingly strong voice that he needed to use the restroom, Murray Howe said.

“He says, ‘I’ll walk,’ and I said, ‘You can’t walk,’ ” Murray Howe recalled. “He says, ‘The hell I can’t.’ And he sits up and puts his feet over the side of the bed and stood up.

“If I hadn’t been there and seen that happen with my dad, I don’t know if I’d believe it either.”

Detroit  Free Press

There are people who don’t believe it, scientists who say with bravado, indignant spittle (because Science is on their side), this story is creating a false hope and raising hope for snake oil salesmen.

So the debate continues.

Can stem cells help cure the affects of stroke?

Or is it bunkum? You can’t fool Mr Science.

I would gladly try anything to be able to speak again. And if it’s good for Mr Hockey, it’s good for me. He managed at age 86 to score one-third of a Gordie Howe Hat Trick – a fight with stroke (which he won), without taking a penalty.

One final thought about hockey as a sport:



“Why don’t you talk normal?”


My grandson Arthur asked me today, “Why don’t you talk normal?”

I didn’t take as a personal affront because he’s only four. So I explained to him that I’d had a brain attack and so I couldn’t speak properly. He asked: “Does it hurt?”

I answered no.

But then I got thinking about it and, yes, Arthur, it does hurt.

Not being able to communicate effectively does hurt – psychologically.

It hurts trying to find the words when you need them. I swear I would struggle trying to find the words HELP if I was under duress.

It hurts trying to find the words to tell someone about emotions I’m experiencing.

It hurts having to search for words. My brain allows only one at time to come out –

kind of like a parking lot barrier, keeping words inside until each has been paid for emotionally.

But to answer your next question Arthur, and there is always a next question  –


No, I don’t need a plaster for it.


What’s another word for synonym?


I have confessed before to being a crossword addict.

It started when I was young, watching my father do them, asking the reasoning behind an answer. Later, I did it because I thought it would help me become a writer/author/reporter. I figure if you’re going into a war with words you need all the ammunition you can get, or that’s what told myself.

Truth be told, I enjoyed the mental exercise.

The crosswords I do are simple – find a synonym for a word  – none of those cryptic crosswords like: ‘Marie Curie birthmark. Second born in a litter of otters.’

No, mine are simple synonyms like: strong taste = tang; bode= augur;  offensive = odious. If I don’t get the word right away, chances are some other letters in the crossword will make it clear. It helped when I was writing to come up with the right word.

Then, I was visited by the stroke. And the resulting aphasia, a new word for me.  It means that the ease with which I could command words was frozen in my brain, or least the compartment where words were kept was locked and did not have the key, nor the password, nor even a clue how to free/extricate/disentangle it.9507f79a6574b4d70fc69a12243bd427

These days there are all kinds of electronic programmes/apps/courses, mostly involving a £300 plus iPad, which help you rescue/resuscitate/ your lost speech. For less than a pound (the cost of a daily paper), I offer a less electronically solution. My speech therapist, Catherine, started me by suggesting finding synonyms out loud.  I immediately thought of crosswords.

If you say the clue and the answer aloud it helps with your diction, and the penmanship helps with residual effects of paralysis, so you get a course of rehab.

Where else can you get a one-stop treatment?

And don’t say: I’ve got an app for that.

Recrudescence – to become raw again

Relaxing on remote beach

I haven’t on the blog for awhile because I’ve been on holiday.

Well, if you count 365 plus days of time off as holidays.

Truth is, I’ve been lazy.


Every day some topic would enter my mind and I’ve thought: that would make a good blog. Then it would exit my mind just as quickly, like some stray leaves blowing about in the wind and I did not rake them up and deliver them to you.

Then this week, there came fluttering into my inbox a personal message from Anu Garg of wordsmith.org, my personal word guru. He said unto me: Recrudescence.

And he did not just it leave it for me to look up. No, he explained that it was from Latin recrudescere (to become raw again), from re- (again) + crudescere (to get worse), from crudus (raw).

And this wasn’t one those trendy ‘new’ words entering the English language that suddenly is uber cool to use. Nor is it known to Russell Brand to obfuscate you with. No, Abu went on to explain the earliest documented use of recrudescence was in 1665 the year before the Great Fire in London.

The word recrudescence is a noun, meaning a renewed activity after period of dormancy.

What I think Abu was saying is: get off your ass and start writing again, in the nicest way possible way of course.


That is what I am doing.

I should mention that the effects of my stroke haven’t gone away in the past year. I still can’t talk properly (that’s called aphasia for the new kids on block), still weak on the right side (Left partial anterior circulation stroke – May 2010. It means that the right side of my body was affected ­­­ – I veer to the right when walking. My mouth doesn’t work properly on the right side, my right arm doesn’t have the strength it used to, I can’t lift my right leg far enough to get my trousers on. All this and I still exercise the dogs every day.

And typing. Whereas I used to be able to bang out a 5,000 word story in about  45 minutes, it now takes me 90 minutes to get this far in blogging. And that I’m sure is part of reason I put off blogging, because I felt  ‘re-doable’ wasn’t working for me. All those health professionals at the time of my stroke were saying if you work at rehabilitation you can get your life back – it’s another lie.

To quote Kevin the Teenager: It’s not fair.

But to quote Oscar Brown Jr:

Ooo shhhhiiiii ooow ooow ooow
What? Oh what are you gonna do with me?
Ooo wow uh
But I was cool

I’m proposing a new word for 2014

.dog walking silhouette

I invented this word purely to get in the face of the originators of the word “selfie,” because the word I’m proposing doesn’t have the narcissism, self-absorption and ego.

“Selfies” originators  were then egged-on by the Oxford English Dictionary which made “selfie” the “word of the year for  2013” which only celebrated the vacuous planet of celebrity and party-goers and its St Elmo’s fire of notoriety and does nothing to further the English language. Some forms of “Selfies” can be dangerous as people now use their mobiles/cell phones as a new form of mirror with which to measure their form of reality.

The word I’m proposing is shadowies – a picture of your shadow in various poses that leaves the “me” out of the photograph, allowing only the essence of you. It’s similar to Victorian silhouettes but with more scope for artistry all without worrying about combing your hair, or even what you wearing, or make-up, or skin imperfections.

Dependent on how the light strikes you, you can be tall or short, thin or thin-challenged. It’s the perfect anonymous portrait. You don’t have your silly duck-faced photos living on in internet eternity.

Go back into the shadows and lose yourself in the anonymity.

Here are some I took earlier.


Christmas Day at The Bell, Benington http://thebellbenington.co.uk/

Christmas Day at The Bell, Benington





Side view showing my Peaky Blinders cap

Side view showing my Peaky Blinders cap




Spread the word on Twitter- #shadowies, the new word for the new year. #Showyourshadow


Send me your shadowies and I’ll show them off here

Walking for science, discovering victims of violence or Plan C?


Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow – Henry David Thoreau

I read about some researchers that were looking for people to study the effects of exercise who have had a stroke – they want to find out how exercise helps the body to recover and generate newspaper headlines and, doing so, reap the benefits of fame and garner more research cash.

Well, I don’t need the discipline, thank you.

I don’t need the forms, surveys and assorted health checks to go for a walk. Or even on a treadmill. I prefer outside, and while I may not walk according to the official form because of my stroke, I can put one foot in front of the other and sustain it for at least an hour or more.

Also I use a walking stick (not the medical variety, the country walking kind), because I also get an upper arm workout for my stroke-affected right side.

And as always, Amoret and I walk every day with our dogs.

It’s my own physiotherapy (non-NHS) regime for the shortcomings of my body since the stroke.

We go one to two miles a day, over hills and hollows, near lakes and ponds, stopping only for picking up after the dogs and to take photographs. I try not to stop for idle chit-chat with fellow dog walkers but sometimes it’s unavoidable.


I’m not walking to find murder victims. A comedian once said: Have you noticed, it’s always the dog walkers/joggers who find dead bodies?

I am just trying to try to restore some of my old body traits to its new self.



Erik Johansson_facefistcopyright 2011 erik johansson all rights reserved

After month of induced Aphasia Awareness (as ordered by the US Congress) I’m convinced I am never going to be cured of aphasia.  It leaves me feeling like this Erik Johanssen photo.

Aphasia: Not with a mouse, not with a fox

speech therapy sign

June being the month for all people to be aware of the condition known as aphasia (as ordered by the US Congress) I find that I’m getting worse, not better.

I wrote earlier about being exposed to the term asphasia (The Chronicles of Aphasia – How I discovered aphasia when all I had was trouble speaking because of a stroke).

Frankly it’s a big job touting the world for people to understand the term and the condition that has so many variables. The best example is the mantra that aphasia is a loss of language, not a loss of intellect.

I keep telling myself that, yet day by day, I can feel what little communications I have slipping away. I find it harder and harder to pronounce words – to ‘mouth’ words – get my tongue around them and get them out. I used to have problems thinking of the words, but that’s better. Given time I can find the words I need.

I have had three years of practice to build on the fried brain residue, to practice getting better, only to find it’s getting worse. Once again, the experts lied when they said I would improve my speech by putting in the hours of rehab. And yet “scientists” say the brain re-wires itself given time and exercise. Mine, apparently, hasn’t caught up with science.

But still I haven’t given up. Recently I had my grandson A to stay overnight and I found that he was entertained by my reading Green Eggs and Ham, by Dr Seuss…


I remember reading the story to my youngest daughter (long ago, Before Stroke) and she loved it when I went fast, increasing the frustration and mild anger through the words to the ever-present question posed by Sam-I-Am:

I do not like them in a box
I do not like them with a fox
I do not like them in a house
I do not like them with a mouse
I do not like them here or there
I do not like them anywhere
I do not like green eggs and ham
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

(And I maintain that I’ve not lost my intellect)

I sailed through the words, Post Stroke. In fact I was so enamoured by my voice during the chorus, I got louder and louder (I was really getting into the method acting), that Amoret shushed me from the patio lest the neighbours the other side of the brick wall think we were arguing.

The neighbours, Mr and Mrs Homo Neanderthalensis, never let on that I would not have it with mouse or a fox, nor Amoret’s strange recipes.

Truthfully, I was knocked back by the admonition.

I was really feeling the power of my voice. For the first time I felt free of the tyranny of aphasia.

Thinking about that reading again, it wasn’t that the pronunciation was all that clear (I have aphasia remember), but the timbre, pitch (psychoacoustics) and cadence gave me freedom to wildly express myself much the same as Brian Blessed.

And grandson A was impressed.

I plan to read more Seuss, aloud, much the same way I did when I began this rehabilitation. I hope to get that feeling of freedom of communication back – and who cares what the neighbours think.

Blogging about a stroke – it’s not research, it’s therapy

Ever since I was turned down by researchers for Botox to the hands, I keep running into other ways I could be involved in stroke-related research.

I got a message on my blog wondering if I’d like share my blog with a study by Speech and Language Therapists doing a Masters project at City University London.

Is a bear Catholic?

“I am contacting you because we wish to analyse your blog in our theses. The name of the project is

Blogtalk: the impact of aphasia on people’s lives.”

Well have I got something to say about impact of aphasia on people’s lives. And it’s all right here in my book: What if you spend your whole life speaking and writing and woke up to find it was gone? (Special offer, limited time only, exclusive for readers of this blog – £9.99 plus postage of £4.95, call it 15 quid)

Seriously, there is no charge, as you know if you’ve been following my misadventures. But it illustrates how such an event will take away even the ability to earn money. And that’s just the beginning.

I’m putting my brain to work in search of a cure for fatigue

I got the why’s of a stroke affecting the brain and cutting off signals to the right side of my body – there’s a lot of learning to do after a stroke. But I thought you could, over time, rewire the brain – train it to do the same things it used to.

Or least that’s what I was told: “You’ll be back ‘normal’ after some rehab” from nurses, physios and consultants. It’s a litany people who have strokes are told. They are all lies – well-intentioned lies, but lies all the same.

Like I said at the beginning of this blog adventure, strokes are a bespoke affliction – it’s a one-off designed just for you. It’s kind of like ordering from a Chinese restaurant in that you can have one from column A, and three from column B, or the other way around, or different amounts. Not that you have much of a choice – the end result depends on how many brain cells die during a stroke from not getting life-sustaining oxygen. That result is your Chinese takeaway order. It includes death.

Coming up on year three of stroke in my life and I have made some progress with what I got in my takeaway order. I can walk a straight line, and pick up a cup, and get dressed, and chop vegetables, and sort of type now (look at me blogging!). But it’s a far cry from ‘normal’. I think that’s why I’m suddenly interested in research. I think it will somehow speed up the recovery, or the very least come up with a reasonable explanation of why it is not.

I yearn for the normalcy that I used to have – to type out a story at warp speed; to drive; to speak normally; to know a day without fatigue or tiredness.

They are looking for stroke survivors to take part in research on fatigue and tiredness. That sounds like my kind of research.

I can tell them about that. Since my stroke I have to take a nap about noon every day. About then I look like an extra in The Walking Dead (Zombie TV series) I am that tired. I sleep for about an hour and that revives me.

BS (Before Stroke) I would never entertain the thought of a nap as it would take valuable awake time (read creative time – photography, writing) from me. And BS, should I ever fall asleep accidentally from just being exhausted, I was a bear to be around. Now a power nap is essential to my post-stroke rehab. I shall apply for that research and they tell me:

The reason behind development of fatigue is not clear but previous research suggests that it could be due to changes within the areas of brain that control movement. In this study, we use brain stimulation, questionnaires and brain scans to gain information about the area in the brain that contribute to development of fatigue following a stroke.”

Put my brain in coach, even if it won’t cure me.Why are animals used for medical research?

A show of hands for all those turned down for medical research

dolly hands

I got an email from the researchers saying I’m not medical research material.

“I saw the consultant yesterday afternoon and we had a look at the video together. Whilst you are able to complete the grasp release task, we cannot see any evidence of abnormal movement that would indicate you have the level of spasticity needed to fulfil the trial criteria. It would not be beneficial to give someone botulinum toxin injections if there is no clear spasticity as these injections weaken muscles and so would just make your hand weaker if not given appropriately.”

So, no Botox for me then. The reason  I volunteered for medical research was this press release  from The Spasticity Service at the National Hospital for Neurology & Neurosurgery in London:

New research shows that repeated treatments of Botox (botulinum toxin type A) over one year after a stroke can improve muscle tone and reduce pain in the arms and hands, making it easier for patients to dress themselves.

I read it as: miracle cure will help you type better than hen-pecking at the keyboard mostly with your left hand because your right is stroke-affected. It takes me a couple of hours to type a blog entry, some of which is copy editing because I tend to leave out the little words. But that’s the brain which I have to re-train. The right side of my body needs something:

“Unfortunately, we therefore won’t be able to recruit you to the study. I would, however, recommend that you pursue getting a few physio sessions from a neuro physiotherapist as mentioned in your email. A neuro physio would be able to offer you some help with improving the way in which you use your hand and arm and with advising on specific things that you can focus on practicing independently.”

Now I’ve got to find a neuro-physio.

Frozen in mid-word – how the cold weather works against you when you have aphasia


We’re getting the last blast of winter on the second day of spring. Snow storms, high winds and sub-zero temperatures, which isn’t good for my aphasia.

How does the weather affect your ability to speak? Frozen lips, that’s how.

Since my stroke almost three years ago destroyed a part of my brain, the communication part, leaving me similar to sounding as if I’m trying to talk with a mouthful of porridge while being strangled. Call it aphasia – everybody with a scientific mind does.

To talk, I find that I have to get my lips around the beginning sound of a word, completing one word, and the next one until I have a sentence. That’s normal for me with this aphasia gagging me. It’s even more frustrating because sometimes I have to stop to search my vocabulary for the right word, but then I find that I fall back on a synonym because it’s easier.

Inside my brain there's a mis-connection

Inside my brain there’s a mis-connection

Well this kind of weather means my lips get frozen which makes it harder to find even the beginning of a word.

The reason I come out in this blizzard? Me and the dogs.

dog walking

I have to take my dogs on a daily walk – me too, to stay in shape. It’s rehabilitation.

Psst! Wanna see pictures of something really strange?

hulk fist

Not the picture above – this is a teaser, and besides it’s my left arm.

A strange thing happened to my right arm. In the quest to become a medical guinea pig, I was involved in a photo shoot involving my right arm that has been less than functioning since a stroke three years ago.

I suppose it was an audition. The email from the Research Physiotherapist and Study co-ordinator for PrOMBiS (Predicting Outcome and Measuring Benefit from botulinum toxin in Stroke “A new trial investigating active functional gain for botulinum toxin to the upper limb after stroke”) put it like this:

Because this is a research study, we can only recruit a specific group of people. There are 2 main things that would help us to decide if you are eligible to take part:

1. You would need to be able to hold a glass in your affected hand (you can put it in there with help from your other hand), to lift it up and place it on the table (without help from your other hand), and then to let it go. It doesn’t matter if letting go is very slow or difficult, or if you need to drag your hand off the glass, but you do need to be able to let go WITHOUT help from your other hand.

2. We are looking for people with a specific kind of stiffness, also called spasticity, in the hand and fingers. This is because the injections will only work on this kind of stiffness.

That required a video. Now, for someone who has made living out of videos, somehow the knowledge processing it left me, probably because of the latent effects of that pesky stroke. So I had to research and remember the process of getting a video into a format that could be emailed. Gone were the accoutrements of Adobe Premiere Pro or Avid on the computers designed to handle them. And I once knew the scribblings that AVI, VOB, MP4, DVD, WMV, 3GP, MOV, MKV, H.263/H.264 meant.

But I couldn’t attach it an email. So in desperation I put it on Youtube and sent the link to from the Research Physiotherapist And Study co-ordinator for PrOMBiS (Predicting Outcome and Measuring Benefit from botulinum toxin in Stroke “A new trial investigating active functional gain for botulinum toxin to the upper limb after stroke”).

Nothing back yet. This is the video.

What are the chances that this anonymous video will suddenly go viral with millions hits sending millions of pounds in advertising revenue to me? In that I case I will fund my own study so that others can get a chance of some of normalcy returning to their life. I call the video Different Strokes. Could be as big as the Harlem Shake.
Returning to reality, I still have more to do:

If, from this video, we think you would be able to do the grasp release component of the trial assessments, we would still need to assess the kind of tone you have in your wrist and fingers. This is a “hands on” assessment, which would need to be carried out by someone who is familiar with assessing tone, for example, a neuro physiotherapist.

The last time I had a physiotherapist I was hauled up on terrorist charges. A nurse asked me what my purpose was in this building. And as I was in the early stages of aphasia, I couldn’t explain I was there for a physiotherapist appointment. She proceeded to tell me in my silence why they had security in this building and I should be signed in with a guard because they didn’t let anyone in off the streets. (There was no place to sign in, nor was there a guard)

The Florence Nightingale dropout was so strident that I just left. The physiotherapist came in few minutes and explained for me. I complained to the NHS and they told me she had to go to empathy classes and they were very sorry.

That was my last physiotherapist appointment. Now I guess I’ll have to go back and see if there’s a place to sign in and see if empathy classes really work after two years. I can always carry the hulk hand in case it doesn’t.


Since when does reality speak a foreign language?

mind the gap sign

Since having a stroke 2½ years ago I find I am constantly reminding myself of reality.

You know, the real reality, not just what you think it is.

Take the other day: I turned on the TV to catch up on the news, and what my brain-damaged mind heard was pure gobbeldy-gook. I could not make sense of what they were saying, things like: Penawdau newyddion a’r tywydd.

I wondered whether I was having another stroke.

But the real reality was I had mis-dialled the number on the remote and came up with S4C Welsh television.

Not long after that, I saw this from the BBC:

Stroke sees Englishman wake up speaking Welsh – An 81-year-old man from Somerset who had a stroke woke up speaking Welsh

Not everyone understands this reality of strokes.

Read about this picture at: http://www.ancient-hebrew.org/19_gonewrong.html

Read about this picture at: www.ancient-hebrew.org

Guess who had a stroke

breaking news

A funny thing happened today – Thursday, 10 January 2013 – BBC’s Andrew Marr had a stroke.

Not funny ha-ha, but strange funny because the news of that stroke set the whole stroke network into a frenzy of action.

Twitter was a-tweat with the news.

The Stroke Association came up with a statement:

The BBC broadcaster Andrew Marr, who presents Radio 4’s Start the Week and the Andrew Marr Show on BBC1 has had a stroke. He was taken ill on Tuesday 9 January and is now in hospital and doctors say he is responding well to treatment.

Joe Korner, Director of Communications at the Stroke Association says;

“We are deeply saddened to hear about Andrew Marr’s stroke and our thoughts are with him and his family at this hard time. Around 150,000 people have a stroke every year in the UK and around a quarter of these are in people of working age. A stroke happens in an instant but the effects can often last a lifetime. However with the right care and support it is possible to make a recovery and return to a life after stroke. If anyone is worried or concerned about stroke please call the stroke Helpline on 0303 3033 100.”

But I was impressed with Kate Allatt’s response. She started Fighting Strokes – Young & Locked in Syndrome charity and blogs on the subject.

With Kate Allatt, a stroke survivor, she has news you can use, not statistics.

  • Saving #AndrewMarr – My top 8 stroke recovery tips.. 

And the same with Joan Scott (Previously: Teen Agony Aunt for AOLUK. Community Manager and Internet Safety Advisor) who has a daughter who had a stroke and recently had a stroke herself. She, too, offered down to earth stuff in fact she appeared to have the news first – EXCLUSIVE, as the newspapers put it: 

– It’s funny how people make jokes about strokes, but never about cancer. Well, not funny really but you know what I mean.

– I keep telling people I’m a survivor. I refuse to be a victim. It’s taken away enough without that!

– I wonder if Andrew Marr is on the geriatric ward, like 18 year old Sarah was. Not a nice experience, even though we love the #NHS

Me? I offered this:

All of a sudden the morning news is filled with news about stroke. Oh. It’s because we recognise who it got.

Other charities, “celebrities” and just plain people chimed in with support and wishes as Twitter became a fence post for people leave their tributes and wishes for a speedy recovery.

All the emotional effort went in Andrew Marr’s corner, although there was another stroke story on the wires. I tweeted about a BBC death –

“Waiting for another statement on stroke. Nothing about this BBC man, Alasdair Milne and his stroke.”

And there was a stroke-related story about drinking four cups of tea helping to slash the risk of stroke.

Save for one death,  it was a good day for stroke news.

I’ll put the kettle on.

Redoable – 2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 9,200 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 15 years to get that many views.

The complete report.

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