@AbudBakri we charge exact same price as compound pharmacy. but charge the insurance for an office visit to address their comorbidities. a visit every 2 months. mutually beneficial. and an easy visit for me. Lol
@MohammedAlo alright fine i’ll stop responding to your tweets since you just reply with tangential thinking AI slop. still solid content though so thanks for that
where’s the evidence to support this theoretical claim? Coming off strong with the “it can kill you”! line.
have your anesthesiologist friends also notice an uptick in dementia with their statin patients? Are their vaxxed patients getting auto-immune disease? what else have they noticed 🤣🤣
@MohammedAlo do pcsk9s have the same pleiotropic benefits as statins?
clinically my question is how important do you feel it is for patients to remain on a low dose statin if they are already on Repatha with an LDL exceptional, like <40 (with just repatha)
@DrAlexTatem 1) sleep study; treat OSA
2) obese - GLP and weights
3) correct deficiencies; vitamin D, mag RBC, zinc RBC. All common deficiencies and easily identifiable
4) throw boron ontop just because
5) test cyp 200mg weekly should do the trick
A hot dog stand in Chicago. I reached for the ketchup.
The man behind the counter said one word. "No."
I froze. I understood. I had nearly broken a sacred law.
His name was Sal. He held a mustard bottle in each hand and had the calm of a man who has turned away kings. He told me the dog already had mustard, relish, onion, tomato, a pickle, peppers, and celery salt. He told me it was "dragged through the garden." He told me ketchup would never touch it.
I bowed. I had been shown the code.
I asked Sal who decreed this law. He shrugged. "That's just how it is here." A law so old its author is forgotten. The strongest kind.
Then a man two stools down asked for ketchup for his child. Sal allowed it. "Eight and under," he said.
So the law holds one mercy. Below eight winters, a child is innocent. At eight, he becomes responsible for his own honor. I found this more beautiful than anything in my own country.
I have not put ketchup on anything since.
Not on eggs. Not on rice. A vow does not check what is on the plate.
I flew home. At a stand in my own city, a boy reached for the red bottle. I caught his wrist. "You are over eight," I said. He did not know what I meant. His mother was upset. I tried to explain the garden. I tried to explain Sal.
I am now asked not to return to that stand.
I have appointed myself guardian of a law from a city I visited once, for a single afternoon.
So tell me, America.
Who forbade the red sauce on the sausage, and in what year?
And if no one remembers, who am I now serving?