Aardbeien kunnen schadelijke ontstekingen van de dikke darm helpen verminderen


Inflammatoire darmaandoeningen ( IBD) zijn een reeks pijnlijke aandoeningen die ernstige diarree en vermoeidheid veroorzaken.
Huidige behandelingen hiervoor bestaan uit het nemen van medicatie of chirurgische ingrepen.
Onderzoekers van de Amerikaanse Universiteit van Massachusetts, Amherst melden nu dat een eenvoudige interventie in het dieet darmontsteking zou kunnen verzachten en de darmgezondheid zou verbeteren.
Een kopje aardbeien per dag zou helpen om de dokter weg te houden.
De resultaten van het onderzoek werden voorgesteld op de 256ste nationale bijeenkomst van de American Chemical Society (ACS).

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Een sedentaire levensstijl en eetgewoonten met veel suiker, veel dierlijke vetten, vezelarm dieet kunnen darmontsteking bevorderen en het risico op IBD verhogen"

Hoofdonderzoeker Dr. Hang Xiao 

In Nederland hebben ruim 80 000 mensen een chronische darmontsteking, dit is ongeveer 1 op 200 mensen.

Voor België ligt dit cijfer op ongeveer 35 000 mensen.
IBD omvat zowel de ziekte van Crohn, die elk deel van het maag-darmkanaal kan aantasten en colitis ulcerosa, die wordt gekenmerkt door een ontsteking van de dikke darm en het rectum.
Mensen met IBD lopen ook een hoger risico op het ontwikkelen van darmkanker.

Aardbeien
Het eten van groenten en fruit is reeds in verband gebracht met IBD.
In deze studie concentreerden de onderzoekers zich vooral op de consumptie van aardbeien omdat deze doorheen de maatschappij heel veel gegeten worden.
Eerdere onderzoeken naar de effecten van aardbeien op IBD, concentreerden zich vooral  op de effecten van gezuiverde verbindingen en extracten van aardbeien.

Volgens dr. Hang Xiao mis je een heleboel andere belangrijke componenten in de bessen, zoals voedingsvezels, evenals fenolverbindingen gebonden aan de vezels, die niet kunnen afgezonderd worden met oplosmiddelen.
Het is ook zinvol om de effecten van de volledige bessen te bestuderen, omdat mensen meestal het hele fruit consumeren in plaats van hun extracten.

Onderzoek met muizen
Het onderzoeksteam gebruikte 4 groepen muizen.
De eerste groep gezonde muizen volgde een normaal dieet.

De 3 andere groepen hadden allemaal IBD, daarvan gebruikte 1 groep een gewoon dieet.
De tweede groep nam een dieet dat bestond uit 2,5%  heel aarbeienpoeder en de laatste groep gebruikte een dieet met 5% heel aarbeienpoeder.

De onderzoekers probeerden om de muizen een dosis te geven die overstemt met hetgeen de mens zou kunnen consumeren.
Het voedingssupplement van hele aardbeien stond gelijk met 3/4 kopje aardbeien per dag bij mensen.

Bij de muizen onderdrukte deze hoeveelheid symptomen van lichaamsgewicht verlies en bloedige diarree aanzienlijk.
Behandelingen met aardbeien verminderden ook ontstekingsreacties in het darmweefsel van muizen.

Darmontsteking
Bij IBD neemt de hoeveelheid schadelijke bacteriën toe, terwijl de hoeveelheid nuttige bacteriën in de dikke darm daalt. Na de dieetbehandelingen van hele aardbeien, zagen de onderzoekers een omkering van die ongezonde microbiotische samenstelling bij de IBD-muizen.
Uit de experimenten bleek bovendien dat aardbeien mogelijks  ook de metabolische routes zouden kunnen beïnvloeden bij de IBD- muizen.
Dit zou de reden kunnen zijn voor de verminderde ontsteking van de dikke darm die ze konden vaststellen.

De onderzoekers hopen nu hun onderzoeksresultaten bevestigd te zien bij de mens.

Ondanks het feit dat het dagelijks eten van driekwart van een kopje aardbeien gunstig zou kunnen zijn voor mensen die hun darmgezondheid willen verbeteren, adviseren de onderzoekers toch aan patiënten om hun arts te raadplegen alvorens op eigen initiatief het dieet te wijzigen.
Ook mensen die een allergie zouden hebben van aardbeien dienen deze dieetinterventie te vermijden.

Bedankt voor het bezoek.

Voor meer natuurlijke tips volg ons  op https://www.facebook.com/deapotheekvandenatuur/                         of https://www.facebook.com/Gezondheid-onder-de-loep/
Heb je zelf ideeën die je de wereld wilt insturen?
Meld je dan aan en krijg meteen 300 punten.


bron: sciencedaily.com

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Requiem: Chapter 5
- Just in time Stephen March could save himself from a certain death with a lateral leap. The bright red glider drilled into the window of ' Redstone & Son ', a branch of a Western electronics company that had gained a foothold in the New World. One of the first groups to have won this authorization after the Second Cold War. The reinforced windows of the electronics store were no match for the kinetic forces of the runaway vehicle. The window glass splits into countless small pieces. At the last moment, Stephen had seen the murder vehicle rushing at him in the light of the window window. His rapid reaction, an instinctive reflex at the moment itself - was happiness or perhaps the result of his daily workout - had given him that small chance and saved his life. Because most of the pieces of glass had been broken up by the movement of the glider inside the shop space, March had not suffered any serious cuts. His pants and vest were torn and smeared by the fall, and his left leg was a little worse planed by the unsoft contact with the concrete, but the rest was not easy.. While he was still recovering from the first shock, he heard above the panicked screams of the pedestrians who witnessed the event, from the store a metallic scraping. To his great surprise, he saw the red carlide moving out of the storefront and turning to him. Stephen frowned amazed the eyebrows. Apparently, that killing machine was targeting him. This wasn't a coincidence, not an ordinary accident.. His hunch shouted at him a single word: “Run!’. He took the first street on the right at a delirious pace, almost slipping he could just avoid a pedestrian who was angry behind him. A second later he heard a bons accompanied by a creepy scraping sound. Stephen looked backwards and saw the unfortunate passerby crushed by the chasing autobot slipping along the wall in a blood-red pattern. The fear knocked him in the throat, the adrenaline made him run even faster. He thought the Metro, I should get it.. There, the runaway computer car wouldn't be able to follow him. He jumped up the stairs with two steps at the same time that would lead him to the main street via a few inland roads and also to the entrance of the underground train network. Whenever he reached the end of one of those roads, he heard the murderous vehicle approaching and blowing his neck like a hot breath. He walked even faster, and it seemed like he was given wings because of the fear that drove him. Eventually he came into the street where the entrance to the Metro was. He saw it as a redeeming mouth that would swallow it up. Another ten meters. With his last breath he squeezed out one last sprint. With a tiger jump, he plunged forward down the stairs and hurtfully rolled to the bottom of the entrance, where he hoped to be safe from the murderous autobot. Stephen felt vomited. It was a miracle, but apparently he didn't break anything at first sight, even though he was in pain everywhere. He crawled stumbling and leaning against a pillar again upright. The red monster remained hovering in front of the entrance to the Metro for a while and then disappeared out of sight.. People looked at him with fear, and many walked around him in a wide bow.. In the light of a window of a train he saw the reason. He just looked like a wreck. In the toilet of the underground, he tried to decent his clothes some and take up the worst damage. All in all, it turned out to be too easy. All his muscles were stiff due to the intense effort but nothing felt broken to. He bled from a number of small wounds to the elbows and hands. The abrasions on his leg did not look really life-threatening, although it had to be taken care of professionally. Stephen should see a doctor as soon as possible for a skilled patch. Now he no longer looked like a diplomat Stephen March, but more like a clochard who had walked into the wall several times in his alcoholic haze... or perhaps fell down the stairs of the Metro. His first idea was to tell the police everything and file a complaint against strangers. Only then did he realize that he had not seen a license plate number on his murderous stalker. In the New World all gliders or autobots were numbered on the bottom, the doors and the top of the vehicles. So one could immediately see or find out which city or area they came from. In addition, the windows were darkened so that he could not disclose the face of the driver or occupants. weird! He would wait a while to visit the police. His sixth sense told him that he might do more harm than good with that.. After an hour on the emergency service of the nearest hospital, he was given the necessary iodine tincture, special adhesive plasters containing an antibiotic and gauze dressing - and what was especially important - a strong painkiller. His leg was not broken, but still hit worse than he had previously suspected. Stephen told the doctor on duty that he had fallen from the stairs of the subway entrance due to a misstep and sustained those injuries. Even if that was only half the truth, it wasn't a lie. It sounded really convincing how Stephen brought it, but this explanation also avoided any annoying questions from the doctor on duty or a mandatory visit to the law services. Stephen March didn't get high on the Security Service right now, especially after the unsolved murder of his half-sister Suzy. The idea of walking a block and a little more at Redstone & Son to inquire, he also rejected. Maybe any witnesses recognized him while the police were still there investigating the case. What intrigued him most of all was the reason behind this unexpected attack on his person. Why was he attacked, hunted like a wild animal, eventually he was also nearly killed? What was the point, what was behind this, was this connected to Suzy's murder?? All the questions haunted in his head. He felt hunted and anxious and looked around as he sought his way back. When he was back at his apartment, he first poured himself a good whiskey.. He knew that it was not wise to mix medicines and alcohol, but this was an exception to the rule. His hand was still shaking slightly when the golden moisture was poured into the crystal glass. He took a big sip of Chivas Regal. Stephen felt the fluid that immediately warmed him a way to his stomach, which now settled some. Stephen let the last hours before his mind's eye pass. After the identification with Suzy's personal items he had received from Mr. Huang, he went for a walk in the shopping streets of Sanctuary. Getting his feelings back under control after the psychological thump he got in the morgue. Then suddenly the red homicide vehicle that showed up at him? Stephen put the rest of his whiskey glass aside and poured out the contents of the canary yellow plastic bag with his sister's personal belongings, whom he miraculously could have saved during all those struggles of the last few hours, onto the table. There were the usual things that are usually found in the possessions of a woman. First of all, her torn and bloody garments, which he laid apart with due respect and a great piece of dismay. Another example of the lack of sympathy from the New World police forces. In the pocket there was also a torn handbag, a broken lip gloss, a key ring, a hairbrush that had also suffered under the trap, a crushed pack of started paper wipes and a wallet with some banknotes in it, some pictures, but all her credit cards were missing or withheld by the Security Service. Scattered, he was messing around in all the boxes of her wallet when he found between two pictures in a note pleated in two. March immediately recognized Suzy Chang's beautiful female handwriting. There was only one word on it and a number: “Passage 6.”. It didn't tell him anything. That couldn't be the note Captain Vastai was talking about. The conscious note that referred to him? The key ring of four keys he weighed equally predominantly in his palm. He immediately recognized the blue rectangles key of an autobot. Number SW280387. Nothing was referring to that Passage 6. One of the other three keys must have been from Suzy's apartment since the name was printed in the key bar of the residence where she was staying: ' Pinewood House Asurai ’. A number was printed on the tip of the bar: 837. As he already knew, this referred to the eighth floor apartment 37. The other two were still a mystery to him. A mystery that he would certainly try to solve. He wouldn't ask the police what those keys were for.. By the way, if they had been of some interest, he probably wouldn't have gotten it.. Maybe today he took a walk to Pinewood House Asurai. Stephen changed and took the elevator to the underground garage with a painful grimace on his face in his own autobot and entered the address of the residence. The speech recognition program looked this up in its internal memory, started the almost silent drive system and the vehicle automatically slipped into the traffic jam of the pre-programmed route. Stephen leaned weary backwards in the seat and waited with his eyes closed for him to reach his destination.. copyright Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere Requiem: Chapter 4 or 6 - Requiem: Chapter 4 - Requiem: Chapter 6 -
The Door
#shortstory A short story set in the fantasy world. Maybe it can also be seen as the beginning of a further adventure. Who knows. Enjoy. Thank you in advance for your appreciation. It was not the specific properties of “the door” that attracted me in an unusual way. Every day I walked through dozens of doors and, like everyone else, I opened and mattered. That's what they serve for.   For some time now I also closed my bedroom door in the evening. In the morning I took them off the lock to go down the stairs, open the front door and get my daily newspaper. Ever since the neighbors had broken into, this had become more than a routine for me. It was a checklist that I meticulously ticked off every night. The latches on the front door and closing my bedroom door.   It was also not the oak door frame or the gilded latch that attracted my attention as a strangely twisted question mark today more than usual. It was a beam of diffused light, drilled silently through the keyhole of my bedroom door in the middle of the night. The light formed a long, fluttering cone of floating, swirling dust particles that splash open in a circle at my waist. How I got out of bed and ended up in the middle of the room, I barely wondered. I dabbled with my index finger the outline of the projected light on my body and felt nothing. Oddly, because at that time I expected the opposite. Logical thinking at three o'clock in the morning is not really the easiest task, but I was pertinent sure it was night. I even remembered that today it was new moon, which was the advantage of owning a tear calendar that daily mentioned all sorts of useful and less useful things. Spicy of me! For a moment I doubted whether the light on the landing had been cut out. Let me summarize: I'll look around the landing... light out in the hallway, light on in my bedroom, turn on the door and... close. Check, I didn't forget anything. At that moment, my brain unanimously took the ambiguous decision that I was the next victim of the burglar... or that I was dreaming. I hesitantly took a few steps forward. There are those who claim that dreams are deceit, others claim the opposite and read the future in it or declare them as signs we get from the afterlife. I, on the other hand, was a doubter, always been. I was somewhere in the midst of these two opposing opinions, just as I was in the middle of my bedroom, in front of the door where light shone from the keyhole, light that normally shouldn't be there! A desperate person who had to choose between the burglar and the dream. It occurred to me that the time, between the moment when the neurons in my brain were playing the “step to the door “command at my feet, that time to bridge those next meters that were still moving me away from the door, was stretched as I approached that strange light source.. Yet my hand suddenly felt the coolness of the latch in its grip.   In dreams, that should be perfectly possible, I thought. A dream? So I stood there, still, still wailing, still in front of the door, motionless with a question mark in my hand. The latch felt less cool than just now or was it longer than a moment ago. An hour could also have expired. My sense of time was lost somewhere between the four walls of the bedroom.   Slowly, as if on the other side of the door someone was exerting resistance - maybe the burglar - my hand was moving. Awfully slow, my fist, the knuckles white with tension, made a movement moving with the numbers of the clock. Only then did I see that the key wasn't on the door! Had I put it on my bedside table earlier this evening? Not that I had that habit. No, I always left him on the lock, but in a dream everything is possible, or not sometimes?   I was sweating. Was it from fear or effort, I did not know. But it ran me like pee from my forehead, a few drops in my eyes clouded my vision of things, especially on'D I E D E U R'. I now heard my fear falling into drops to the ground: drip... drip... drip... drip... drip...! At that moment, I knew for sure. This was not a dream. Surely not such an ordinary week-pleasure-but-good-by dream.   It was a downright nightmare!   A strange word whose etymology I should look up again, perhaps at a more appropriate time, when I had more time... or was awake. I saw in my imagination already a horse in the night, heard the sound of his roaring trot pounding in my ears ominously. Or was it just my blood flowing faster. Perhaps the pressure that increased in my veins ominously and my heart fluttering down my throat like a rumbling drum. I saw in front of my mind's eye a black prancing mare with eyes like carbuncles and hooves slapping those gensters somewhere on the landing behind the bedroom door.   The next moment, it was as if a white cloth was thrown over me in a flash.. Blinded I waved my arms around me and felt the support of 'something' in my back.   Deeply inhale and exhale, above all 'keep' breathing! My first idea drilled into my mind like an ice-cold awl: I got ambushed and someone pushes me a knife or revolver in the back. With fear I froze in the middle of a movement, standing there with arms spread out like a crazy, sweaty statue trying to do nothing above all.   Eventually I perceive shapes, not neatly delineated, but blurry images, as if I was peering through the lid of an inlay jar or through a window of smoke glass. Careful, torturingly slow, I turned half around and looked amazed at what I saw over my shoulder. The door was behind me now but there was no light left through the keyhole.   Should that disturb me even more? I was on the other side of the door? That could or should be the only obvious explanation of this bizarre hocus pocus.   Light dispels ghosts one claims. Is that true?? I felt shapes along me. Cool unknown creatures whispering strange words and sounds, soft as velvet, which I just didn't understand, but still caused the goose bumps on my arms. Half-blind, with the courage of despair and the poor stabbed, almost panicked, I felt the light. My hands found hard whimsical shapes at body height, protrusions that vibrated inside when I hesitantly touched them.   At that moment, I thought for a moment to squeeze myself in the arm. You read it in every ghost story as a proven means of knowing if you are actually dreaming or if you are awake because of the pain. But I didn't dare. My heart was still beating faster than usual and my blood was still vaguely ringing in my ears. The fear wasn't gone, but... Then I got a little bit curious! You have these lizards that have a third eyelid. It's called a nip on these critters. Such an additional eyelid serves as a protection for those long-tailed reptiles. My third eyelid, whether I owned it or not, opened. Maybe it was just the things around me that opened up,! But who would tell me at that moment what was reality and what was not. My vision gradually came back to normal, and what I saw was not possible, couldn't. Not at all! No, I couldn't be awake. In my room there was no rock mass, with here and there in between a pointed stalagmite or a small river that meandered a little further between two opposite walls and slowly disappeared up into the ceiling without leaving any trace.. Let alone fish flying back and forth over furniture and chairs like fur-colored butterflies in a butterfly garden and then just dissolved again, poof... as if they had never been there. Suddenly, a red-brown dragon stepped out of the left corner and looked at me in the waddling past suspicious, conceited his giant head and blew some shrub on fire in the other corner of the room before he disappeared into the opposite corner.. Where was that going now?   Was this the limit of my fantasy in my dream? Would I continue on this road until I bathed in my own sweat, woke up relieved in my bed? Then I saw, half hidden behind a species of palm tree unknown to me, whose purple leaves grew up and bore pitch-black fruits, the next door!   The realization in me grew steadily as I slowly took the following steps: this was not a dream or a nightmare, this was not the end, but perhaps the beginning of a new story.   ©Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere