A shortcut is the longest distance between two points. – Historian Charles Issawi
I’m sure many of you’ve made the same mistake. You’ve settled in for the evening and you start thinking, “I wonder if there’s anything good on Netflix.” But by the time you’re done reviewing the options:
- A comet about to hit the Earth
- A kidnapped asthmatic girl being deprived of her medicine (my favorite!)
- Killer robots
- A Jeffrey Epstein expose, and
- How to be a tyrant
you want to pull the blanket over your head and turn off the TV for good. If I wanted to be bummed, depressed, and frightened – and who doesn’t – I can open a newspaper or look out the front window.
But while subtlety certainly isn’t Netflix’ forte, it’s the stealthy undercurrent of a social sea change that always harbors the most terrifying possibilities for me. And we’re looking down both barrels of one right now.
Originally intended to help type 2 diabetes sufferers regulate blood sugar levels, semaglutide, better known by the brand names Wegovy and Ozempic, are the hottest pharmaceuticals on the market. It wasn’t their initial intent, but in addition to stimulating the pancreatic production of insulin, the drugs block hunger regulators in the brain and slow the stomach emptying process making one feel fuller longer.
As an ironic aside, these weight loss drugs’ skyrocketing popularity has led to the kind of shortages that make it much more difficult for the diabetics who really need them to fill their prescriptions. Ah yes! That legendary American altruism is always hard at work.
But much like you can count on a never-ending litany of bad Netflix movies, anytime anyone attaches the word “miracle” to “cure” it will inevitably turn out to be just the opposite. The statistical fat lady may be only warming up, but there’s clearly a dark side to the semaglutide tide that’s just begun to rear its ugly head.
There’s the absurd price point, of course, which doesn’t seem to provide much of a deterrent to their rampant overuse. Before insurance, if applicable, a month’s supply of Wegovy will run you $1,349.02 while a similar dosage of Ozempic costs $892.06. Perhaps their real secret is leaving people with no money to buy food.
But that out-of-pocket expense pales in comparison to semaglutide’s side effects which are so insidious that you couldn’t pay me to take it.
Among the lesser known possibilities for non-diabetics, as reported by Time Magazine, is a four-times greater risk of an obstructed bowel and a ninefold increase of pancreatitis, neither of which are all that much fun.
An obstructed bowel typically requires surgery, and for the uninitiated, pancreatitis is the painful and incurable inflammation of said organ, often requiring a lifetime of treatment.
But the single side effect that’s suddenly got researchers’ full attention is the slowing the digestive process to the point of irreversible stomach paralysis, or gastroparesis by its medical nomenclature. Those horrifying symptoms include, but aren’t nearly limited to, cyclical vomiting of up to 20 bouts a day. The lesser effects include abdominal bloating, acid reflux, and constipation.
It’s true that Just one percent of semaglutide users experience stomach paralysis, but when you add up the 9 million Ozempic and Wegovy prescriptions issued in the last three months of 2022 alone, that means 90,000 people have or will have their lives irrevocably altered. When you think about it, that’s a city the size of Elgin that’s unable to effectively digest food.
Aad sales of the drug are projected to increase by 33 percent in 2023 and 2024.
The worst part of this is semaglutide doesn’t cure a thing. As it is whenever you sublimate an addiction, some users reported their food cravings came back with a doubled vengeance after they quit taking the drug. So, when you consider we’re talking about a lifetime of injections to keep the weight off, we haven’t begun to scrape the tip of the long-term semaglutide effects iceberg.
But what really kills me about this lemming-like stampede to potential self-destruction is the steep decline in Weight Watchers enrollment, and their ensuing capitulation to what will likely be just another fad. It’s never easy to stick to your core principles in the face of declining company revenue, but this is exactly the time we need to be reminded that the only “cure” for obesity is a reasonable regimen of healthy eating, exercise, and the incremental adaptation of a different food mindset.
But no! The singular affectation that sets Americans apart from the rest of the planet is, despite the plethora of previous new drug disasters, our unflinching willingness to believe in the next medicine show magic where the miracle “elixir” means having to apply no effort to get results.
I realize this doesn’t come across as a local news story, but it really is. With the sales of these drugs exploding exponentially, we’ll all soon know someone who’s far worse off than before they took the drug.
Meanwhile, I guarantee you, within five short years, Lerner and Rowe will be plastering the airwaves with commercials that open with the line “Have you or a loved one ever taken Wegovy or Ozempic?”
