Bad Additives

…and I’m not talking about adding Diet Pepsi to Scotch, or a mistress into one’s marriage.  But some things, seemingly-innocuous things, when added to other things, are likely to be just as explosive.

Having grown up in South Africa which, despite all its faults, produces citrus fruits which make California/Florida oranges taste like dish soap, I have always loved me my citrus fruits:  oranges, lemons, limes and grapefruit, eaten either by themselves (orange, grapefruit) or as additives to stuff like gin and vodka (lime, lemon).

Eating grapefruit with one’s daily statin, however, is Nazzo Guido, as explained in this article:

For instance, citrus fruits, particularly grapefruit, is known to disrupt the absorption of at least 85 different medicines, from statins to antidepressants.

Wait, what?  I take atorvastatin.

The problem with citrus fruits is that they contain compounds, called furanocoumarins, that can interfere with an enzyme in our body that breaks down these drugs, potentially leading to dangerously high levels in our bloodstream.

So much for that daily glass of vitamin C-rich grapefruit juice with my breakfast then, FFS.

Under normal conditions, this enzyme reduces the amount of the drug that enters your blood — and the quantities you are prescribed take this process into account, according to Simon Maxwell, a professor of student learning (clinical pharmacology and prescribing) at Edinburgh University.

‘This interaction partly occurs in the gut, enabling increased absorption, but also — significantly — in the liver, preventing it from progressively removing the drug in the hours after absorption. Together, this means that overall exposure to the drug can be significantly increased, resulting in toxic effects.’

‘Citrus fruits’ furanocoumarins stop CYP3A4 from doing its job — and they’re more concentrated in juice than the fruit [because a glass of juice contains more of the fruit].’

As a result, more of the drug is absorbed, making it more powerful than intended.

‘For example, a 240ml glass of grapefruit juice can increase blood levels [of the drug] by as much as 200 per cent, taking it from the therapeutic range to the potentially toxic range.

‘This can lead to side-effects such as extreme muscle damage for statins; priapism (excessively long-lasting erections) for sildenafil*; headaches, dizziness, fatigue and impaired sleep with sertraline; excessive sedation for midazolam; and excessive reduction in blood pressure, raised heart rate, dizziness, fatigue and blurred vision for those taking calcium channel blockers.’

And that’s just citrus.  Wait till you see what vitamin K-rich bananas can do to you.

Read the whole thing.


*It’s not all shitty news, by the way:  if you’re heading to an orgy, or want to make a decent first-time impression on your willing date, chug some grapefruit juice with your Viagra, preferably in a vodka cocktail [sic].

(Standard disclosure applies.)

Of course, you may end up with a 24-hour woody which may damage your member, but on the other hand, Madame will almost certainly be well satisfied, even if she requires the services of the paramedics as much as you do.  And if the fuzz have to be called to remove you from the orgy… well, there are always going to be spoilsports, aren’t there?

So take all the above with a grain of salt — just not that salt substitute crap, which is even worse for you than grapefruit juice, according to the article.

Be careful out there.

The Race Is On

Saw this tragic news at Kenny’s place, and while the comments were just terrible [snork], the first thought that occurred to me was:

“Without Sheila Jackson-Lee, who’s next in line for the title of Stupidest Politician in D.C.?”

I know, I know… the competition is strong, especially when you’ve got that oaf who thought Guam was going to capsize, and there’s always Ole Fayful, Maxine Green.  But the clear favorite has to be Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez:

…but I’ll entertain suggestions in Comments if anyone can think of a bigger moron than she is (gawd help us).


N.B.  I said “stupid” not “evil”, although it’s possible to have both in one person (e.g. Swalwell or Kinzler).

Killer Drug

Why did I have to read about this incredible news in the ghastly Brit paper The Sun ?

An immunotherapy drug could spare bowel cancer patients the need for surgery and chemotherapy after results showed it was effective in 100 per cent of cases.

Jemperli, also called dostarlimab, showed “unprecedented results”, maker GSK said, with no evidence of disease in all patients treated.

Granted, it seems to work in just one form of bowel cancer (so far), but really?

I guess that US “newspapers” are too busy with more important news, like gloating over Trump’s specious conviction or Rupert Murdoch’s latest marriage.

Not-So Happy Ending

As if women weren’t used to refusing sex because they had a headache… now it appears that they can get headaches after sex as well, with dire consequences:

Doctors have urged Americans to seek help for a little-known sex problem — migraines triggered by sex, known medically as coital cephalgia.

Bloody hell.  It was difficult enough before to get Madame to allow access to her Garden Of Delight, but now it’s going to be practically impossible, with this prophylactic refusal available.

Of course, if she really loved you…  just sayin’.

 

That Weight Loss Thing

Several people asked about this when I revealed that I have lost over 40lbs since October last year.  My simple answer is “Ozempic” (which is true) but I need to give a little background, I think.

My long-suffering family doctor — a lovely man, by the way — has been hammering on at me about my weight for many years, yea even unto when it reached the upper-270s.  I’ve always responded flippantly to his worries, saying that I’ll do anything to address that concern as long as it didn’t involve

  • a change in diet, or
  • exercise.

Well, it all caught up with me when after studying the results of my last blood tests, he informed me that I was developing Type II diabetes.  He wasn’t kidding this time — I’d also developed the irritating-but-not-critical feelings of partial numbness in the soles of my feet, which is a symptom of diabetes and of advanced age (which is why you so often see old geezers wearing slippers around the house and sandals with socks outdoors — bare feet, apparently, are no longer an option lest one step on something sharp and doesn’t notice it).

Anyway, I still wasn’t interested in changing my diet or doing exercise, so he prescribed Ozempic.  It’s a once-weekly self-administered jab in the stomach.

What it did for me was reduce my appetite by about 60%.  Now I have to say that since my gastric surgery all those years ago, my appetite hasn’t been all that great anyway, but my food choices have been… deplorable.

What Ozempic did for me was reduce all food cravings — not eliminate them altogether, but make me less likely to eat (say) a whole slab of Dairy Milk over three days, and take two weeks to consume the same amount instead.

On regular foods, my portion sizes were reduced by about two thirds, and breakfast disappeared altogether, replaced by (maybe) a piece of cheese, a couple of grapes or a small handful of Honey-Nut Cheerios, and only if I felt really hungry.  (“Peckish” disappeared completely.)  I found myself becoming totally disinterested in feeding myself, much to New Wife’s concern.

Here’s the good part of all this:  I have been feeling better.  More energy, more stamina, and much less effort in just doing stuff like getting out of chairs or even just sitting up in bed.  Some people have reported that change in body shape has also resulted in change of personality, but that’s bullshit.  If your personality is going to change just because you’ve lost weight, then you have bigger problems to worry about.

Losing all that weight was a salutary event, but I was warned by FamDoc (and Doc Russia) that I needed to do at least some exercise because one of the side-effects of such radical weight loss is concomitant loss of muscle mass.

I’ve pretty much ignored that advice too, because to be frank, I’m heartily sick of my muscles.  I’ve always been a beefy kind of guy, even at Army weight (210lbs) — and I’m quite frankly sick of having to find shirts with an 18″ collar (since leaving high school), trousers that look like bell-bottoms (calf muscles) and shirts with sleeves that squashed my arms into stovepipes.  Cowboy boots?  Oy, I’ve been forced to get boots that are a half-size too big just so I can get my calves (again) into them.  Less muscle?  Fine.  I’m still as strong as I want to be — just this past weekend I helped Daughter pack some heavy stuff into her SUV, without any problems.

And so on.  My clothes fit better and feel more comfortable, and I’m using the first hole on my belts rather than the last one.  I may have to get some smaller clothes when I lose the last thirty-odd lbs I’m targeting, but then again maybe not.  Whatever.  If I end up walking around in baggy clothes, I don’t really care.  New Wife, however, may feel differently about it, but I have enough clothes that I bought when slimmer (and never threw away) that I shouldn’t need to change much.

It’s not all sunshine and light, however.  Belly fat has turned from a basketball into folds (okay enough under shirts, but ugh when uncovered), and my face has also become… well, droopy would be the best description.  (I know I know, exercise… shuddup.)

Anyway, that’s the story of the film so far.  Appalled by the cost of Ozempic, by the way, I switched to Rybelsus, which is a (foul-tasting) once-a-morning tablet, but it hasn’t worked as well, and I felt my weight starting to creep up again.  “Never mind,” says FamDoc, “I’ll just up the dosage of the Rybelsus.”

Except that the increased dosage of Rybelsus is more or less the same cost as Ozempic (~$220 per month ugh) so as of this very morning, I’ve gone back to the weekly jabs in the stomach.

(As an aside, I should point out that I am easily one of the least-squeamish people on the planet, and sticking a microscopically-thin needle into my own gut every week doesn’t bother me in the slightest.)

I really don’t care what people think of how I look, and maybe this is why I’m so blasé about this whole Ozempic/weight loss thing.  It was never about losing weight;  it was all about dealing with Type II diabetes, and that’s about it.

As with all activities of this nature, what has worked (or not worked) for me may not be the same for you.  So be my guest, if this is the road you want to walk down, but be careful.

New Bogeymen Required

Oy.  Here’s one to make us all do a desk faceplant:

While an increase in cancer risk has long been linked to smoking, red meat, environmental factors such as pollution and second hand smoke, and lifestyle habits like booze intake and weight, doctors are now looking at ultra processed foods, oral sex and vaping as some of the possible causes.

Any bets as to whether they’ll find what they’re looking for?

Of course they will, because doctors are busybody killjoys who just love telling people how to run their own lives.

Oh, and let’s not forget: