An Lao Valley Incident
by
Duane Vincent
145th Avn Plt CE

Date of Incident: Saturday, January 29, 1966
Binh Dinh Province, South Vietnam
Early stages of Operation “Masher”

The 145th Airlift Platoon had been working for several days out of Bong Son Special Forces (SF) Camp in support of Project Delta which was conducting Recon missions in the An Lao Valley.  I was the Crew Chief of a troop carrying “slick”, tail number 62045, call sign “Mardi Gras 6”.  The gunner was a Californian named Russell Issacs.  Nine of the ten helicopters in the Platoon were on the mission, six slicks, two gunships, and a “Hog,” while our tenth helicopter was back at our home base in Nha Trang undergoing maintenance.  Our mission, as I understood it, was to quietly insert the Delta teams into the valley, provide air cover with our gunships, and pick them up on demand.  Delta was to locate a large VC/NVA force in the valley then a Brigade of the 1st Cavalry Division, which was operating nearby in the Bong Son plain, would come in immediately, and destroy them.

The Delta teams in the valley were compromised almost from the start and I got an Air Medal for Valor for a ladder drop and covering fire during a five-man pickup on the side of a ridge on January 28th.  On the morning of January 29th, most of the Platoon was out flying Direct Support or Combat Assault missions in or around the An Lao valley.  Major Kevin Murphy, the Platoon Commander had gone off to the SF Camp to meet with Major Charlie Beckwith and other Delta operations staff.  045 was parked nearby in an adjacent graveyard where we had bivouacked the last few nights and Issacs and I were doing routine maintenance on the ship and our weapons.  All of a sudden, Major Murphy came running out and told us to “saddle up.”  One of the Recon teams was in contact and needed immediate pickup.  Major Beckwith arrived with three other Delta people (a First Sergeant, a radioman, and another Officer, I believe).  We immediately started the engine and Major Murphy got into radio contact with the rest of the Platoon.  They had either just landed or were on their way back to refuel and rearm at the camp airstrip and could not join up with us right away.  A quick decision was made for 045 to leave immediately in advance of the rest of the Platoon and to quickly locate the team.  We would then act as the Command & Control aircraft while the others made the pickup and delivered any required aerial gun support.  We took off with a crew of four (Aircraft Commander was Major Murphy, Co-pilot was CWO Southwell, Issacs and myself) and the four Delta members.

The weather was awful.  At that point it was cold, there was low cloud cover with a ceiling below 1,000 feet, and rain was falling.  I think that the best description of weather of that kind was in a Boston Publishing Co. book called “The Vietnam Experience/A Contagion of War.”  It noted “that a season of “crachin,” which is French for “spit” was prevalent in the area.  It described “crachin” as “A constant drizzle that could lighten to a mist or fall more heavily, crachin drifted down from slate gray clouds seldom higher than 3,000 feet.  Visibility usually extended no more than three miles.  In the early morning hours, low stratus clouds dropped below a 1,000 foot ceiling, and the fog that resulted lifted slowly, dissipating by middle-to-late morning.  Frequently, the fog persisted in the valleys, obscuring mountain ridges and peaks and creating perilous flying conditions.”

Since the ceiling was so low, we flew at an altitude of approximately 300 to 400 feet over the area just outside the SF camp and then over some farms, picking up speed as we flew.  Sitting in the open cargo door (pilot’s side), I was wearing my field jacket under my flak jacket and chicken plate and I had the visor down on my helmet in an attempt to stay warm and shield myself from the rain.  Each drop of rain that hit you hurt.  Even with this protection, the rain was still impacting on my hands and chin while water ran down my helmet visor, my neck, and inside my jacket.  The visibility was not good, but I could see fairly well along the ground from that altitude.  Few people were in view, but those I could see looked like farmers on their way somewhere.  Not far from the Bong Son airfield and before we had gotten to the narrow part of the valley, we suddenly broke into the open over some rice paddies.  Our altitude was still only a few hundred feet and in front of us and slightly to the left was a paddy dike lined with tall palm trees with another dike off to the far left.  I saw no people.

Almost immediately, I heard the sharp, sub-sonic cracking of small arms and automatic weapons and I realized that we were taking fire from the tree line along the paddy dike that we were flying towards at about a 30-degree angle (my side of the helicopter).  I started to deliver some suppressive fire from my M-60 into the tree line, working from the right to the left.  Major Beckwith, who was sitting next to me, began firing his M-16 over my right shoulder and the First Sergeant, who was sitting on the floor in front of me, also began firing.  I was leaning forward in my seat, holding the 60 with both hands, my right elbow resting on my right knee and my left hand under the weapon to steady it as I fired.  I only got off about 20 or 30 rounds when WHAM!  I had my right hand literally blown off the M-60's pistol grip and felt an almost equal impact on my right thigh.  The world seemed full of red dots while the pain was beyond my powers of description.  At that moment, time seemed to slip into slow motion.

I looked down at my hand and I could see smoke coming out of the hole in the top.  I glanced at Beckwith and I could immediately tell that he had a gut wound and was hurt much worse than I was.  I then looked up at the First Sergeant and the look of absolute total surprise on his face; combined with the red spots all over his face and head made me start laughing, more in pain than in mirth.  I held out my arm to him because I wanted him to stop the bleeding.  I’m sure that he had no idea why I was doing this, but eventually he clamped down on my arm and slowed the blood loss.

It then began to get confusing for me.  There was a lot of smoke and confusion in the helicopter and a very active radio net assessing the situation.  I thought that Southwell got hit in the butt with shrapnel when something came up through the floor, but I'm not exactly sure what happened after I was hit.  The helicopter was shaking furiously as we continued on, banking somewhat to the right. I could hear Isaac’s M-60 working and the pain in my hand and the fear of getting hit again or worse yet crashing, made me decide to keep at it.  I took my weapon in my left hand and starting firing again, one-handed, toward the base of the treeline, which was now very close to us.  As we banked over the tree line along the paddy dike, I could see people in uniform tracking us with their weapons.  All of us were firing furiously, aiming at anything that moved.  Beckwith was half lying on the seat and in a lot more pain than I was, and I could hear his staff telling him to hold on.  The SF Officer told him, “Hold on Boss, you’re hit pretty bad.  We’re going to have to get you back.”   He then got on the radio and he and Major Murphy decided to abort and go directly back to the SF compound.

The fight seemed to last a very long time but I’m sure that it was only seconds.  We flew back to Bong Son and landed just outside the perimeter wire of the SF camp.  They unloaded Beckwith, and Issacs came over to my side of the helicopter and held me up, putting my left arm over his shoulders.  He carried me over to the narrow path leading through the wire where we encountered a journalist who was blocking the way.  Russell starting yelling at him to get out of the way, but the guy was just standing there with his mouth open, fumbling at his camera equipment, trying to get it out and take a picture, I guess.  When we got to him, Russell shoved him over the roll of barbed wire, where he landed on his back on top of more wire and fell to the ground.  I don’t think that he ever said a word to us.

Issacs then took me into the aid station and stayed with me for a bit while a medic gave me some morphine.  Things began to get hazy for me and I remember that they were working furiously on Beckwith.  After a while I heard Major Murphy start yelling.  It sounded like he was getting really angry because they were not working on me, and the Dustoff chopper was not there yet.  I also remember someone trying to calm him down.  Eventually, a medivac chopper picked me up and took me to the Hospital in Qui Nhon.

When I woke up from my surgery, Col. McKean, the Commander of 5th SF, was sitting on the bed next to mine while members of his staff circled in the background.  I was pretty groggy but what I remember of the conversation was that the 145th had done a good job and recovered the survivors of the team that we were after.  Overall casualties among the teams inserted into the valley were heavy but that they had found a large number of VC and that McKean had requested that a B-52 strike take place before the enemy had time to flee.  When I asked him where the backup we were promised was, he told me that the 1st Cavalry was unable to carry out their end of the mission because they were bogged down in a fight elsewhere.  I also remember asking him about certain Delta members and expressing a great deal of anger over taking these kinds of casualties to find an enemy who was then allowed to get away.

Later on, I decided that I really appreciated his visit.  He made me feel like I had contributed to an important mission and that I had the respect of people that I thought of as among the bravest people that I had ever met.  It was also the only time in that war that anyone ever took the time to give me an explanation of how our efforts fit into the larger campaign picture and why it was worth it.

To this day, I still do not know what I was hit with!  In the hospital, Russell Issacs told me that it was a .30 caliber armor piercing round and that it had been given to Beckwith.  Since Beckwith was sitting right behind me, firing over my shoulder and the round went through my hand and then nicked my right leg, it had to have been the same round that hit him in the stomach.  We were both hit at exactly the same time and in his book, Charlie said that he was hit with a .51 caliber round.  The round made an M-16 size hole in the back of my hand and larger exit wound in my wrist.  If it was a .51 caliber, then it seems like I should have lost my entire hand.

Even though it has been a while since this incident, I still think about it often.  I spent a year at Madigan Army Hospital in Tacoma, Washington getting my hand repaired.  I then went back to college, graduated, went to work, got married and had kids.  Life has been good for me, but every day I remember the men I served with in the 145th Airlift Platoon.

Reconstructed from 35 year-old memories
By former PFC Duane D. Vincent
November 19, 2000

_____________________________________

⇐ Back to Sto An Lao Valley Incident

by
Duane Vincent
145th Avn Plt CE

Date of Incident: Saturday, January 29, 1966
Binh Dinh Province, South Vietnam
Early stages of Operation “Masher”

The 145th Airlift Platoon had been working for several days out of Bong Son Special Forces (SF) Camp in support of Project Delta which was conducting Recon missions in the An Lao Valley.  I was the Crew Chief of a troop carrying “slick”, tail number 62045, call sign “Mardi Gras 6”.  The gunner was a Californian named Russell Issacs.  Nine of the ten helicopters in the Platoon were on the mission, six slicks, two gunships, and a “Hog,” while our tenth helicopter was back at our home base in Nha Trang undergoing maintenance.  Our mission, as I understood it, was to quietly insert the Delta teams into the valley, provide air cover with our gunships, and pick them up on demand.  Delta was to locate a large VC/NVA force in the valley then a Brigade of the 1st Cavalry Division, which was operating nearby in the Bong Son plain, would come in immediately, and destroy them.

The Delta teams in the valley were compromised almost from the start and I got an Air Medal for Valor for a ladder drop and covering fire during a five-man pickup on the side of a ridge on January 28th.  On the morning of January 29th, most of the Platoon was out flying Direct Support or Combat Assault missions in or around the An Lao valley.  Major Kevin Murphy, the Platoon Commander had gone off to the SF Camp to meet with Major Charlie Beckwith and other Delta operations staff.  045 was parked nearby in an adjacent graveyard where we had bivouacked the last few nights and Issacs and I were doing routine maintenance on the ship and our weapons.  All of a sudden, Major Murphy came running out and told us to “saddle up.”  One of the Recon teams was in contact and needed immediate pickup.  Major Beckwith arrived with three other Delta people (a First Sergeant, a radioman, and another Officer, I believe).  We immediately started the engine and Major Murphy got into radio contact with the rest of the Platoon.  They had either just landed or were on their way back to refuel and rearm at the camp airstrip and could not join up with us right away.  A quick decision was made for 045 to leave immediately in advance of the rest of the Platoon and to quickly locate the team.  We would then act as the Command & Control aircraft while the others made the pickup and delivered any required aerial gun support.  We took off with a crew of four (Aircraft Commander was Major Murphy, Co-pilot was CWO Southwell, Issacs and myself) and the four Delta members.

The weather was awful.  At that point it was cold, there was low cloud cover with a ceiling below 1,000 feet, and rain was falling.  I think that the best description of weather of that kind was in a Boston Publishing Co. book called “The Vietnam Experience/A Contagion of War.”  It noted “that a season of “crachin,” which is French for “spit” was prevalent in the area.  It described “crachin” as “A constant drizzle that could lighten to a mist or fall more heavily, crachin drifted down from slate gray clouds seldom higher than 3,000 feet.  Visibility usually extended no more than three miles.  In the early morning hours, low stratus clouds dropped below a 1,000 foot ceiling, and the fog that resulted lifted slowly, dissipating by middle-to-late morning.  Frequently, the fog persisted in the valleys, obscuring mountain ridges and peaks and creating perilous flying conditions.”

Since the ceiling was so low, we flew at an altitude of approximately 300 to 400 feet over the area just outside the SF camp and then over some farms, picking up speed as we flew.  Sitting in the open cargo door (pilot’s side), I was wearing my field jacket under my flak jacket and chicken plate and I had the visor down on my helmet in an attempt to stay warm and shield myself from the rain.  Each drop of rain that hit you hurt.  Even with this protection, the rain was still impacting on my hands and chin while water ran down my helmet visor, my neck, and inside my jacket.  The visibility was not good, but I could see fairly well along the ground from that altitude.  Few people were in view, but those I could see looked like farmers on their way somewhere.  Not far from the Bong Son airfield and before we had gotten to the narrow part of the valley, we suddenly broke into the open over some rice paddies.  Our altitude was still only a few hundred feet and in front of us and slightly to the left was a paddy dike lined with tall palm trees with another dike off to the far left.  I saw no people.

Almost immediately, I heard the sharp, sub-sonic cracking of small arms and automatic weapons and I realized that we were taking fire from the tree line along the paddy dike that we were flying towards at about a 30-degree angle (my side of the helicopter).  I started to deliver some suppressive fire from my M-60 into the tree line, working from the right to the left.  Major Beckwith, who was sitting next to me, began firing his M-16 over my right shoulder and the First Sergeant, who was sitting on the floor in front of me, also began firing.  I was leaning forward in my seat, holding the 60 with both hands, my right elbow resting on my right knee and my left hand under the weapon to steady it as I fired.  I only got off about 20 or 30 rounds when WHAM!  I had my right hand literally blown off the M-60's pistol grip and felt an almost equal impact on my right thigh.  The world seemed full of red dots while the pain was beyond my powers of description.  At that moment, time seemed to slip into slow motion.

I looked down at my hand and I could see smoke coming out of the hole in the top.  I glanced at Beckwith and I could immediately tell that he had a gut wound and was hurt much worse than I was.  I then looked up at the First Sergeant and the look of absolute total surprise on his face; combined with the red spots all over his face and head made me start laughing, more in pain than in mirth.  I held out my arm to him because I wanted him to stop the bleeding.  I’m sure that he had no idea why I was doing this, but eventually he clamped down on my arm and slowed the blood loss.

It then began to get confusing for me.  There was a lot of smoke and confusion in the helicopter and a very active radio net assessing the situation.  I thought that Southwell got hit in the butt with shrapnel when something came up through the floor, but I'm not exactly sure what happened after I was hit.  The helicopter was shaking furiously as we continued on, banking somewhat to the right. I could hear Isaac’s M-60 working and the pain in my hand and the fear of getting hit again or worse yet crashing, made me decide to keep at it.  I took my weapon in my left hand and starting firing again, one-handed, toward the base of the treeline, which was now very close to us.  As we banked over the tree line along the paddy dike, I could see people in uniform tracking us with their weapons.  All of us were firing furiously, aiming at anything that moved.  Beckwith was half lying on the seat and in a lot more pain than I was, and I could hear his staff telling him to hold on.  The SF Officer told him, “Hold on Boss, you’re hit pretty bad.  We’re going to have to get you back.”   He then got on the radio and he and Major Murphy decided to abort and go directly back to the SF compound.

The fight seemed to last a very long time but I’m sure that it was only seconds.  We flew back to Bong Son and landed just outside the perimeter wire of the SF camp.  They unloaded Beckwith, and Issacs came over to my side of the helicopter and held me up, putting my left arm over his shoulders.  He carried me over to the narrow path leading through the wire where we encountered a journalist who was blocking the way.  Russell starting yelling at him to get out of the way, but the guy was just standing there with his mouth open, fumbling at his camera equipment, trying to get it out and take a picture, I guess.  When we got to him, Russell shoved him over the roll of barbed wire, where he landed on his back on top of more wire and fell to the ground.  I don’t think that he ever said a word to us.

Issacs then took me into the aid station and stayed with me for a bit while a medic gave me some morphine.  Things began to get hazy for me and I remember that they were working furiously on Beckwith.  After a while I heard Major Murphy start yelling.  It sounded like he was getting really angry because they were not working on me, and the Dustoff chopper was not there yet.  I also remember someone trying to calm him down.  Eventually, a medivac chopper picked me up and took me to the Hospital in Qui Nhon.

When I woke up from my surgery, Col. McKean, the Commander of 5th SF, was sitting on the bed next to mine while members of his staff circled in the background.  I was pretty groggy but what I remember of the conversation was that the 145th had done a good job and recovered the survivors of the team that we were after.  Overall casualties among the teams inserted into the valley were heavy but that they had found a large number of VC and that McKean had requested that a B-52 strike take place before the enemy had time to flee.  When I asked him where the backup we were promised was, he told me that the 1st Cavalry was unable to carry out their end of the mission because they were bogged down in a fight elsewhere.  I also remember asking him about certain Delta members and expressing a great deal of anger over taking these kinds of casualties to find an enemy who was then allowed to get away.

Later on, I decided that I really appreciated his visit.  He made me feel like I had contributed to an important mission and that I had the respect of people that I thought of as among the bravest people that I had ever met.  It was also the only time in that war that anyone ever took the time to give me an explanation of how our efforts fit into the larger campaign picture and why it was worth it.

To this day, I still do not know what I was hit with!  In the hospital, Russell Issacs told me that it was a .30 caliber armor piercing round and that it had been given to Beckwith.  Since Beckwith was sitting right behind me, firing over my shoulder and the round went through my hand and then nicked my right leg, it had to have been the same round that hit him in the stomach.  We were both hit at exactly the same time and in his book, Charlie said that he was hit with a .51 caliber round.  The round made an M-16 size hole in the back of my hand and larger exit wound in my wrist.  If it was a .51 caliber, then it seems like I should have lost my entire hand.

Even though it has been a while since this incident, I still think about it often.  I spent a year at Madigan Army Hospital in Tacoma, Washington getting my hand repaired.  I then went back to college, graduated, went to work, got married and had kids.  Life has been good for me, but every day I remember the men I served with in the 145th Airlift Platoon.

Reconstructed from 35 year-old memories
By former PFC Duane D. Vincent
November 19, 2000

_____________________________________

⇐ Back to Sto

 La Thoại Tân (1937 - 13 tháng 3 năm 2008)^[1] là một tài tử nổi tiếng của Việt Nam. Ông sinh ra và nổi tiếng ở Sài Gòn những năm trước 1975.^[2]

Tiểu sử

La Thoại Tân sinh năm 1937 tại Sài Gòn với nguyên danh Phạm Văn Tần, là một nghệ sĩ đa tài, ngoài đóng phim, đóng kịch, ca hát, ông còn hoạt động trong lĩnh vực báo chí, làm MC, đạo diễn phim...

PHẠM = 8514 = 18 = 9

 VĂN = 615 = 12 = 3

TẦN = 415 = 10 = 1

LA = 31 = 4

THOẠI = 45711 = 18 = 9

TÂN = 415 = 10 = 1

 LÚC GẶP THỜI, NẰM NGỦ Ở NHÀ CŨNG CÓ NGƯỜI ĐÁNH THỨC ĐỂ GIAO VIỆC LÀM. LÚC HẾT THỜI, CHẠY RÔNG KIẾM VIỆC,  NHƯ CHÓ ĐÓI, NHƯNG VẪN KHÔNG AI NHỜ.

 MỘT ĐỨA BÉ 5 TUỔI ĐƯỢC CỨU SỐNG NHỜ KỸ THUẬT MRI

. . .

"Nathan Tower là một đứa trẻ thông minh và đẹp đẻ ra đời tại một tp nhỏ có tên Langley ở tỉnh British Columbia, 25 đặm phía đông của tp Vancouver (Canada). Ko giống như chị của nó, bây giờ 12 tuổi và luôn luôn khỏe mạnh, lúc 2 tuổi Nathan đã nhiều lần đau nhức dữ dội ở tai trái và thường ói mửa. Gần ngày sinh nhật thứ năm của nó, trong tháng 6 1985, những cơn đau tai thường nối tiếp bởi nhức đầu dữ dội. Trong những đêm như vậy, Nathan bị nhức đầu liên tục; aspirin ko tác dụng gì hết. Trong cố gắng truy tìm nguyên nhân, người mẹ hoảng loạn (frantic) của nó cuối cùng đã tham vấn 11 bác sĩ. Một số bác sĩ này đã cho rằng bà bị tâm thần (psychotic).

Sức khỏe của Nathan đã suy sụp nhanh chóng. Nó ko thể điều khiển tay và bàn tay trái và bắt đầu ko điều khiển chân phải. Trong tháng 7, cha mẹ quẫn trí (distraught) của nó đã đưa nó tới Reno, bang Nevada Mỹ, để xét nghiệm. Các bác sĩ đã thấy dấu hiệu một khối u ở phần cuối của não (brain stem) và nói rằng ko thể mổ được (inoperable).

Trong tuyệt vọng, mẹ nó (bà Tower) đã gọi người em chồng, bà Barbara Barnhart, ở Phoenix. Bà Barnhart gọi một láng giềng, bác sĩ Donald A. Davis, người đã mạnh mẻ khuyên ông bà Tower hãy mang Nathan đến Viện Thần kinh học Barrow thuộc bịnh viện St. Joseph ở Phoenix, bang Arizona.

Một ngày sau khi nhập viện vào tháng 7 1985, Nathan đã được lên lịch để chụp MRI. Máy này chỉ mới lắp đặt tháng 5. "Mẹ ơi, đây có phải một phi thuyền không gian?" Nathan đã hỏi khi được đưa vào đường ống dài 6 foot của máy MRI.

Từ trường mạnh mẻ này đã sắp thẳng hàng các nhân hy-đrô (hydeogen nuclei) trong não của Nathan, và một bức đã chuyển tới màn hình của máy tính (CRT). Đó là hình ảnh rõ ràng một cách đáng kể của khối u, nằm ở cuối của não, xem hình. Ngày kế, BS Harold L. Rekate, trưởng khoa nhi về ngoại thần kinh, đã lấy ra một khối u của tủy sống/tủy xương (medulla) trong một cuộc giải phẩu phức tạp kéo dài hơn 8 tiếng. Khối u này dài 1,5 inch và đường kính nửa inch.

Tôi đã nói chuyện với bs Rekate về cuộc mổ xẻ này. "Với MRI," ông nói, "chúng ta có thể thấy các cấu trúc của não mà chúng tôi ko bao giờ thấy trước đây. Mười năm trước, đứa trẻ này ko thể sống được."

Khi tôi nói với Nathan và mẹ nó trên một mái hiên (porch) đầy nắng của nhà của ông bà Barnhart, thằng bé đang mang một cái niềng đầu (head brace), xem hình, có công dụng hàn gắn (fuse) xương sống cổ. Từ đây nó có thể điều khiển tay chân. Người cha mừng rở của nó, rất biết ơn về vai trò quan trọng của MRI đã cứu sống con ông, đã có kế hoạch huy động tiền bạc để lập một trung tâm MRI tại tỉnh British Columbia, Canada".

. . .

Ảnh 1: MRI đã xóa phần xương chung quanh tủy sống và cho thấy khối u (màu đỏ) một cách rõ ràng. BS Rekate nói, "trước khi có kỹ thuật MRI, ko ai dám mổ như vậy".

Dịch từ trang 14 - 19 của National Geographic tháng 1 1987.

SJ ngày Jun 22 2023

 QUÁCH = 16135 = 16 = 7

THỊ = 451 = 10 = 1

BẠCH = 2135 = 11 

YẾN = 155 = 11

Cộng lại: 7 1 11 11 = 30 

 Vietnam Topographic Maps - Perry-Castañeda Map Collection - UT Library Online

 Theo BBCVietnamse thì ông bà Trịnh văn Bô đã hiến 5.147 lượng vàng cho CP của HCM. Theo thời giá bây giờ của giá vàng tại HK thì 1 lượng bằng:

$5,201.81 USD x 5.147 luợng = 26.773.716.1 đô.

https://nma.org/.../01/his_gold_prices_1833_pres_2024.pdf

 ĐAU ĐẦU – MỖI VỊ TRÍ LÀ MỘT TÍN HIỆU CẢNH BÁO SỨC KHỎE 

Bạn có biết? Đau đầu không chỉ đơn giản là mệt mỏi hay căng thẳng thông thường – mà còn là dấu hiệu phản ánh những vấn đề tiềm ẩn bên trong cơ thể. Mỗi vị trí đau lại mang một thông điệp riêng!

 Cùng Tiến Phương tìm hiểu 9 loại đau đầu phổ biến và nguyên nhân gây ra để hiểu rõ hơn về cơ thể mình nhé!

1.  ĐAU NỬA ĐẦU (MIGRAINE)
Vị trí: Thường đau một bên đầu, nhói theo nhịp mạch.

Kèm theo: Buồn nôn, sợ ánh sáng, âm thanh, có thể kéo dài vài giờ đến vài ngày.

Nguyên nhân: Rối loạn mạch máu não, hormone (đặc biệt ở phụ nữ), thay đổi thời tiết, stress, mất ngủ hoặc thực phẩm (sô cô la, rượu, phô mai…).

 Lời khuyên: Tránh tác nhân kích thích, ngủ đủ, bấm huyệt Thái Dương – Hợp Cốc giúp giảm đau hiệu quả.

2.  ĐAU ĐẦU DO STRESS
Vị trí: Hai bên thái dương hoặc trán.

Cảm giác: Căng tức như có vòng siết quanh đầu.

Nguyên nhân: Căng thẳng, lo âu kéo dài, thiếu ngủ, làm việc quá tải.

 Lời khuyên: Thư giãn, hít thở sâu, bấm huyệt Ấn Đường – Nội Quan, chườm ấm vùng cổ gáy.

3.  ĐAU ĐẦU DO CỔ GÁY
Vị trí: Sau gáy, lan ra đỉnh đầu.

Nguyên nhân: Sai tư thế khi ngủ, làm việc lâu với máy tính, thoái hóa đốt sống cổ, co cứng cơ cổ.

 Lời khuyên: Xoa bóp, bấm huyệt Đại Chùy – Phong Trì, điều chỉnh tư thế làm việc, gối ngủ đúng chuẩn.

4.  ĐAU ĐẦU CỤM (CLUSTER HEADACHE)
Vị trí: Một bên mắt, thái dương, thường xảy ra vào ban đêm.

Cảm giác: Đau dữ dội, chảy nước mắt/nước mũi cùng bên đau.

Nguyên nhân: Thay đổi nội tiết, hút thuốc lá, rối loạn mạch máu não.

 Lời khuyên: Hạn chế chất kích thích, ngủ đúng giờ, chườm lạnh vùng mắt khi lên cơn đau.

5.  ĐAU DÂY THẦN KINH SINH BA
Vị trí: Trán, má, mũi, hàm.

Cảm giác: Đau buốt nhói từng cơn, như điện giật.

Nguyên nhân: Tổn thương hoặc chèn ép dây thần kinh số V.

 Lời khuyên: Điều trị kết hợp y học hiện đại và bấm huyệt tại vùng Thái Dương – Hợp Cốc – Giáp Xa.

6.  ĐAU DO VIÊM XOANG
Vị trí: Vùng trán, giữa hai mắt, má.

Cảm giác: Âm ỉ, nặng đầu, đau hơn khi cúi người.

Nguyên nhân: Viêm xoang cấp/mạn tính, thay đổi thời tiết, dị ứng.

 Lời khuyên: Xông mũi với tinh dầu khuynh diệp/bạc hà, bấm huyệt Nghinh Hương – Ấn Đường – Toản Trúc.

7.  ĐAU ĐẦU DO HUYẾT ÁP CAO
Vị trí: Sau gáy, đỉnh đầu.

Cảm giác: Căng nặng, chóng mặt, mặt đỏ.

Nguy hiểm: Cảnh báo nguy cơ tai biến, đột quỵ.

 Lời khuyên: Kiểm tra huyết áp thường xuyên, ăn nhạt, thư giãn, bấm huyệt Thái Khê – Dũng Tuyền.

8.  ĐAU ĐẦU DO VIÊM TAI GIỮA
Vị trí: Một bên đầu gần tai.

Kèm theo: Ù tai, chảy mủ, sốt nhẹ.

Nguyên nhân: Viêm tai, nhiễm trùng tai giữa.

 Lời khuyên: Điều trị tai mũi họng kịp thời, tránh ngoáy tai sâu, giữ ấm vùng tai.

9.  ĐAU DO TĂNG NHÃN ÁP
Vị trí: Vùng quanh mắt, trán.

Cảm giác: Nhức mắt, nhìn mờ, buồn nôn.

Nguy cơ: Có thể dẫn đến mù lòa nếu không xử lý kịp thời.

 Lời khuyên: Khám mắt định kỳ, không tự ý dùng thuốc nhỏ mắt, hạn chế dùng thiết bị điện tử kéo dài.

 Khi bạn nhận thấy các triệu chứng đau đầu lặp lại, xuất hiện rõ ràng theo từng vùng – đừng xem nhẹ!
 Ghi nhớ và theo dõi để phát hiện kịp thời các bất thường trong cơ thể.
 Hãy nghỉ ngơi đúng cách, uống đủ nước, giữ tinh thần thư giãn.
 Nếu cần, hãy tìm đến các phương pháp trị liệu như bấm huyệt, massage, hoặc khám chuyên khoa để có hướng điều trị đúng đắn

 

 William Shakespeare (khoảng 23 tháng Tư 1964 - 23 tháng Tư 1616) là một người soạn kịch, thi sĩ và diễn viên người Anh. Ông được người ta coi là văn sĩ vĩ đại nhứt trong ngôn ngữ tiếng Anh và nhà soạn kịch kiệt xuất của thế giới. Ông thường được gọi là thi sĩ của toàn nước Anh và "Thi nhân của vùng Avon" (Bard of Avon) hay "Thi nhân". Những sáng tác hiện còn (extant) của ông, kể cả viết chung với người khác, gồm khoảng 39 vở kịch, 154 bài thơ 14 câu, thơ kể chuyện (narrative poem) và vài câu thơ (verse) khác, một số ko rõ tác giả. Các vở kịch của ông đã được dịch thành các sinh ngữ chánh và đã được diễn thường nhiều hơn bởi các nhà soạn kịch khác. Shakespeare vẫn là văn sĩ nhiều ảnh hưởng nhứt trong ngôn ngữ tiếng Anh, và các sáng tác của ông tiếp tục được nghiên cứu và diễn lại.

Theo Sparks, PHỤ NỮ Ở TUỔI 12-13 VÀO THỜI ĐẠI CỦA ÔNG CÓ THỂ LẤY CHỒNG, NẾU CHA MẸ CHO PHÉP:.. Marriage in Elizabethan England replicated society’s patriarchal structure. Legally a girl could marry as young as 12 with her parents’ consent, though young women typically married in their late teens or early twenties. When a woman’s father deemed her ready to marry, he had a large degree of control of who she married. Among the aristocracy, where marriages were often more about politics than love, women often had no say at all in who they married. Upon entering marriage, a woman ceased to be her father’s responsibility, and her husband became her legal master...

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