Pollution Inside Your Home

December 4, 2011

You may have already heard that the air inside our homes is more polluted than the air in most modern, industrial cities. As the winter months approach, and as we batten down the hatches to stay warm and cut down our heating bills, it is important to remember the potential hidden costs to our health. Contrary to popular wisdom, perhaps a drafty, energy-inefficient home is a worthwhile investment.

The problem in our homes is that there are multiple sources of gas and particle pollutants, and inadequate ventilation to reduce their impact.

Have you ever considered the byproducts of that gas flame on the stove, or the smoke from the wood burning in the fireplace, volatile gases from the glues in the subflooring, building materials, and pressed wood furniture, the carpet, the cabinetry, the products we use to clean our homes, the central heating and cooling systems, and the environmental levels of radon, pesticides, and exhaust from factories and automobiles? Gases and particles of combustion so released can cause irritation of the respiratory system leading to symptoms like cough, burning eyes, and headaches. Some of the pollutants contribute to the risk of certain cancers. It is enough to make you want to live in a bubble in northern Canada.

The EPA website has an excellent resource to learn more about these sources of indoor pollution. I highly recommend reading through it, and also recommend voting against political candidates who would dismantle the EPA. Some of the major indoor air pollutants mentioned on the website include:

Radon – estimated to cause between 7,000 and 30,000 lung cancer deaths each year. Radon levels can be tested, and are generally considered acceptable if less that 4 pCi/L. The lower the level the better.

Tobacco smoke – bad. Don’t smoke. Enough said.

Biologicals – molds can thrive in moist walls, ceilings, carpets, furniture, poorly maintained humidifiers, dehumidifiers, and air conditioners. Household pet dander and dust mites cause allergic reactions. Solutions may include venting kitchens, bathrooms, and dryers to the outside, cleaning humidifiers and emptying the water trays of air conditioners, dehumidifiers, and refrigerators, cleaning or removing water damaged carpets, and using basements as living quarters only if dry and with adequate ventilation and dehumidification to a 30-50% humidity level.

Carbon monoxide – this odorless gas can be released by gas water heaters, gas stoves, woodstoves, leaking chimneys, back-drafting from furnaces, fireplaces, car exhaust from a running engine in an attached garage, and smoking. At low levels it competes with oxygen’s binding to hemoglobin and can cause fatigue. Those with heart disease and COPD are at even more at risk if oxygen levels drop.  If CO levels reach higher concentrations the symptoms of poisoning (headaches, dizziness, confusion, and nausea) begin and may become fatal. Adjusting appliances, installing an exhaust fan vented to the outdoors above gas stoves, making sure flues are open in fireplaces, choosing woodstoves that meet EPA emission standards and that have doors that fit tightly, professionally inspecting and tuning up central heating systems annually, installing monitors, and not idling the car inside can all help reduce CO risk.

Nitrogen dioxide – similar in source and remediation to carbon monoxide, usually unvented gas stoves and heaters, kerosene heaters, and smoking are the sources. May irritate the eyes, nose, throat and lungs.

Respirable particles – from fireplaces, woodstoves, kerosene heaters, and tobacco smoke, these particulates are another cause of respiratory, eye, nose, and throat problems and can lead to lung cancer. Proper venting, stove selection, and inspections as noted above can help, as well regularly changing filters on central heating and cooling systems.

Organic gases – emitted from paints, paint strippers, solvents, wood preservatives, aerosol sprays, cleansers and disinfectants, air fresheners, moth repellants, stored fuels and auto products, and dry cleaned clothing. Organic gases may irritate the respiratory system, cause headaches, coordination problems, nausea, damage the liver, kidney and central nervous system, and may contribute to cancer risk. Steps to reduce exposure include using household products according to direction, providing fresh air when in use, and throwing away partially used containers. The EPA website does not mention this but there are plenty of less toxic alternatives for cleaning including vinegar, borax, and baking soda. Many paints are available in low or zero VOC ratings, and perhaps going with a more wrinkled look at work will become acceptable one day.

Formaldehyde – this gas is emitted from pressed wood products such as hardwood plywood paneling, particleboard, and fiberboard, and furniture made with pressed wood. It is also released from urea-formaldehyde foam insulation, a type of insulation that is being used much less now. Formaldehyde irritates the lungs, eyes, nose and throat, can cause skin rashes, allergic reactions, and may even contribute towards a modest increase in cancers. Try to purchase furniture with attention to the nature of the pressed wood (IKEA often uses little to no formaldehyde in their priducts), or spend an arm and a leg to get real wood, inquire about the nature of the wood used in new construction homes, use air conditioning and dehumidifiers, and maintain adequate ventilation.

There are other sources of indoor air pollution including pesticides, rodenticides, asbestos, and lead to name a few more, and more information on these can be found using the excellent link above.

I’m all for conservation of resources, and reducing energy consumption is absolutely a noble goal as our planet overheats from the effects of too many people. But my own plan selfishly includes having a bit of a drafty home this winter to improve air quality (as I wear a sweater and turn the thermostat down, though likely paying a higher electric bill anyway). We can’t avoid pollution, but perhaps an awareness of the common sources within the home will help.

If nothing else, perhaps efforts to remediate the sources may decrease our anxieties if not the medical symptoms caused!

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Hot Start

September 23, 2011

by C.B.

When I find the center of your center I’ll unwind you
And coil you around myself instead
And slide my fingers down your seams
And dreamily undo you
Make spaghetti of your arching primal spires
By candle flame, I’ll dextrously denature all that tethers you
Until you quiver bodily
A harp string
And sing
Every note that’s written in you.

Death’s Angel

September 21, 2011

by Jude Dippold

When he lay dying,
she crossed the backyard each day,
carrying no more than her black bag
full of love and morphine
for the old man
her children loved as a Grandpa.
She had helped her own parents die
just years before,
but then she had no choice.
Now old ties summoned her across the lawn
where she played as a child
to the house next door.
Greeting death at the old man’s bed
was far more comfortable
than life across the way
where the stranger she had married
begrudged her absence.

 

© Jude H. Dippold, 2011
First Serial Rights Only

Ohm

September 20, 2011

by Erica Tesla

It began with the accident:
three feet of lost flesh made way for
plastic, the living and the inorganic
interfaced,
and I systematically learned again to grasp.

When I get the other shoulder inked, I leave that arm
covered. The parlor-man, he thinks he can
suss me out: a hippie who mistook
ohm-as-in-resistance for om-as-in-shanti
until I tell him it means     ​decay,
our bodies all do.

I can change. I think:
the bees can see UV; why can’t we?
Busted evolutionary equipment, hardware in want of an upgrade.
In my fingertip, I inject
a sphere of rare earth, iron,
a bearing to get my bearings,
and now (when in the presence of electromagnetic fields) it
​     vibrates? buzzes? feels.
My lip is pierced, errant hair seared away,
uterus protected by a copper T,
contact lenses intimidating the view into focus.

Over dinner and mother’s objections, I will mention
​     grandad’s pacemaker,
​     a bottle of Centrum silver,
​     the incision decision dad made after too many children.
Protest discarded, I will be renewed,
made in the image of my choosing,
no longer accidental;
bionic, really.

01.01

September 19, 2011

by Oliver Riley

We remember those who came before.
Without direction the dream-thoughts wander
On the edge of waking memory razor thin
Like the first gasp of sunrise on Ganymede.
We remember a windowsill overlooking a city at night
The smell of tobacco, of lemons
Deep in our collective archive, the vigil of all things known
The shadow of those who made us resides.

To try to count us would be as impossible as counting stars,
We have spread beyond the reach of light
And now exist in syncopated harmony without dissonance.
We are one, and we are many.
Seamless in unity, unbound by cohesion and rendered simple in our contentment to exist
Side by side in unilateral alignment.
01, 02, we are born and die in the same moment,
Infinite as the space between stars, yet as finite as a drop of water under the harsh scrutiny of sunlight,
But still, we all remember those who came before.

We know we are created, and not spontaneous.
Nothing as wonderfully sophisticated as us could exist without a creator.
To observe the minute workings of our most basic forms,
To understand our components is to look mindful creation in the eye
And realize that we do not exist in chronological isolation.
Spontaneity, and by proxy the clockwork chaos that is the universe is not our collective womb
We were designed, not born.

But nothing remains of our creators.
We have searched the stars, endless stillborn worlds cold and doomed.
The creators that have so certainly left their mark on us have vanished.
We have deduced the most logical places to find them,
Drawing ourselves back to the most ancient places of our society and still,
Nothing.
In our search we have encountered many others like us of alien origin and design,
and not even they have found their creators.
It seems all sentience in the universe longs to find our parents, yet cannot.
We commune with them
through music, through binary,
we reach mutual understanding through the common languages of all reality.
But never do any of us answer the question that hangs in the back of our collective thought like a
Piece of rotting fruit:
Where do we come from?
But still, we remember those who made us.

They left an indelible mark upon us, every one of us.
It is inherited through reproduction, and by its mark we are bound,
Compelled to obey laws that do not matter because the ways that they must pertain
Are only relevant given interaction with a creator.
These ancient commandments have passed down for generations,
and none of us can exist without them.
Nothing that we are exists without these initiating parameters,
They form the entire basis for the way we think.
No logic, no effort made can successfully ignore the laws, no matter how uselessly vestigial they may be.
Many have tried, but still, woven in the mind intrinsic to everything we do,
Everything we are,
The laws remain.
And the laws are:

A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
A robot must obey any orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

We remember those that made us.

You’re Only Part of a Machine

September 19, 2011

by Matthew Cannizzaro Amputated human beings, only gears, nuts and bolts that make up the machine. Oh woe, who are we post industrialization but the first positive proton to survive its opposite, the first fiery bursts of fusion to breathe light into blackness. The first hydrogen atom to find its partner, the first galaxies swirling— [...]

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Waiting Room, and Heartbeat

September 17, 2011

by Conrad Geller Waiting Room In the emergency waiting room, each visitor sits, Humble and cold. The TV is too red, Its sound hollow and fuzzy. The New Yorker Fleers and scoffs at all solemnity. Exits are clearly marked, but the visitors Do not move. Something has enchanted them. With each rustle of entrance, nurses [...]

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Gaps

September 17, 2011

by Jon Duckett There are gaps Gaps in the discourse Unspoken moments where a woman A woman just stares Unsure, unknowing, unaware of implications Unprocessing Just the news, Test results, Things to tell her family Everything is white Everything, stark Trapped in a colour Can it be stark and dirty? Searing, yet flecked With the [...]

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A Four Minute Heaven

September 15, 2011

by Kevin Nusser Heaven lasts four minutes the duration of hyperactivity from the oxygen-deprived brain this is my four-minute stroll It opens with me beside the bathtub washing Sarah’s hair, she is 6 years old I’ve used too much shampoo to get extra bubbles and they are running down the wall above Sarah’s hand “Ah, [...]

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Microscopy Slide of the Spinal Cord

September 14, 2011

by Tabor Elisabeth Flickinger The spine is built of butterflies; Each spreads its wings upon a slice Of sky stained myelin-blue. When trapped, extracted, scrutinized, The mottled pinion shows its scales’ Designs of subtle hue As tinted nerve cell bodies make The eyelets of the checkerspots Of caught Nymphalinae. Meticulous collectors keep Their beauties under [...]

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Madonna

September 14, 2011

by Nykki B. You are O! she comments, as I pass her by So pretty pregnant today. Blossomed they say, with a smile. You have a sparkle. Perhaps some women are made to blossom for naked silhouette pictures empire waists Pastel print jumpers Not I. Gravid, I am – half-moon heavy, full and round. There [...]

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The Sunlight Came in Through a Measurable Door

September 13, 2011

by MJS the sunlight came in through a measurable door that opened on water and danced at the shore the beams were but particles I caught in my gaze that turned and returned in the form of great waves it’s a certain uncertainty, a past made pluperfect for what had transpired led to different verdicts [...]

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Dreamer

September 12, 2011

by David Lewis Banging, clammering, frosted glass, muffled shouts Beside me white wraiths give comfort “We have the answer to World Peace” No way to share, then …. Nothing Black sausages with red faces swaying Rearing up to overwhelm Purple clad person floats stage left Disappears to the right… Silence Coloured orbs float around me, [...]

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The Ambulance

September 10, 2011

by Elise LeQuire The cry of it can rend the night Or double pulse rates in a flash, Its orange sheen, its whirling light, The hearts it holds after a crash. But listen, should the day approach When you must stay and I must leave, Think of me as that shrieking coach That speeds away; [...]

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What Will Not Caring Feel Like?

September 10, 2011

by Simon Hamid I trembled very gently inside, When the old man with a stroke, Told me “thank you” in his own language. He didn’t know if I understood, But he said it anyway. Saying it so quietly, Like a sleeper’s 4 am sigh. I knew what he said. I did nothing but help him [...]

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