Alice Williams Facebook ad: “Her Doctor Said She Was Doing Great”

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A woman collapsed in the aisle of a flight in August. She wasn't drunk. She wasn't asleep. She'd lost 31 pounds on her weight-loss shot, and she was on her way to her 40th high school reunion in a dress two sizes smaller. My name is Renee. I've been a pharmacist for 26 years, and I filled that woman's prescriptions for fourteen months. Every month it was the pens, then the Zofran when the nausea got bad, then the Imodium when everything ran straight through her, all of it in one white bag I handed across the counter with a smile and a "have a great day." I rang up every step of what happened on that flight. Gail lost 31 pounds in four months on the shot. Then nothing for eleven weeks, even after they bumped her to the higher dose. Her doctor called her a great responder. Told her to stay the course. She stayed the course all the way to an emergency landing in Charlotte. Her calf locked so hard mid flight she screamed. Passengers three rows back heard it. A few seconds later her heart started fluttering, and she went over sideways into the aisle. Her purse emptied under the seats and her pen rolled off under row 14, and her leg was twisted under her like it belonged to somebody else. A little girl in the seat across the aisle asked her mother if the lady was dying. Strangers knelt on the carpet and prayed over her while the flight attendants worked out what to do. The plane diverted. Paramedics boarded the second the wheels touched down. Her magnesium was critically low. The ER doctor told her she was lucky her heart kept going at all. They hung an IV bag of magnesium and within twenty minutes her rhythm settled. Then they sent her home with a script for magnesium oxide and told her to follow up with her regular doctor. She'd finally gotten thin enough to walk into a room with those women again, and she spent the night of her reunion in a hospital gown in a city she'd never been to. Her old classmates waited at the restaurant and she never showed. The dress she bought two sizes smaller is still in her closet with the tags on. I know what all of it cost her, because I rang most of it up. Fourteen months of pens, plus the Zofran and the Imodium, plus the electrolyte packets she grabbed off my endcap every single visit. On top of that she'd paid for the dress and the flight and a hotel room by the lake she never checked into. When she came to my counter two weeks later with that oxide script, I filled it without saying a word. Because what was I supposed to say? That the magnesium they gave her runs straight through you like a laxative? That it's the last thing you want on a shot that already empties you out twice a day? I filled it and smiled at her like it was any other Tuesday. And I went home that night and couldn't sleep, because Gail wasn't the first one. I've stood behind this counter long enough to watch the same women walk up in the same order, month after month. It starts with the pens, a few weeks later they need the nausea pills, and by month two it's the Imodium. Somewhere around month four or five they lean in and ask me why their legs cramp at night, or why their heart pounds at three in the morning for no reason. And then the weight stops coming off. They come back frustrated, eating less than they ever have and taking the shot right on schedule, and the scale just sits there. Their doctor tells them to go up a dose. So they go up, and I fill the higher dose, and now they're eating even less, which means even less of the one thing their body is starving for. I've watched it for over a year. And I never said a word. A church secretary named Diane. Down 40 pounds. Every chart said she was doing great on the medication. Her husband called 911 at three in the morning because her heart was skipping and she couldn't catch her breath. Paramedics carried her out of her own bed. Her magnesium was on the floor. Her doctor's words the next week were, "I don't understand. She was doing so well." A retired mailman named Eugene. His leg cramped at the top of his basement stairs and dropped him twelve steps. He broke his wrist. The ER treated the wrist and ran a panel. Magnesium dangerously low. He'd lost 38 pounds and every chart said he was doing great. His doctor said nearly the same thing. "I don't get it. He was responding beautifully." I filled his pens for nine months and never once said the word magnesium. Honestly I'm not sure if I didn't know or didn't want to know, and I can't decide which is worse. Then it was my turn. I'm 54, and I'm on the shot myself. The pharmacy plan covers it. I started last March. Down 22 pounds in three months. Then nothing for nine weeks. Not a tenth of a pound, same dose, eating less than I have in my adult life, and the scale sat there like it was broken. My heart started pounding at three in the morning. I'd wake up with it racing and lie there staring at the ceiling, counting beats like I was taking my own pulse at work. And my arches. Long shifts at the counter, they'd cramp so badly I had to step into the back and press them against the wall until they let go. My manager is a PharmD, Dr. Okafor. She pulled me aside after a staff meeting and wrote out my next dose right there. "You know the drill, Renee. Bump it and we'll recheck in twelve weeks." I folded that script into my coat pocket. And I never filled it. Because I'd just watched that exact piece of paper put Gail on the floor of a plane. So let me explain it the way it finally clicked for me, in pharmacy terms. Think of the fat on your body as a stockroom full of inventory. Magnesium is the pharmacist on shift with the keys. Stress burns through magnesium. When the store runs out of pharmacists, it goes into lockdown. Nothing leaves the shelves. That's storage mode, and it's your body thinking it's in an emergency. The shot sends fewer customers through the front door. That part works. But the stockroom stays locked. Now here's the trap. Almost all your magnesium comes from food. Eat half the food and you get half the magnesium. Then the nausea and the diarrhea flush out more of it every week. The longer you're on the shot, the fewer pharmacists show up for work. Your heart and your calves need magnesium to relax. When it runs low they seize. That's why the cramps and the 3am pounding show up before the stall does. They're the warning lights. And your blood work will come back normal. Mine did, two months before my heart started pounding at night. The test checks your blood, and almost all your magnesium sits in your cells. So look at everything Gail tried, the same way I finally did. The electrolyte packets put more cashiers on the floor. Salt and sugar, barely any magnesium. Nobody with the keys. The oxide the ER sent her home with is a pharmacist who walks in the front door and straight out the back. About four percent stays in. The rest goes down the toilet with everything else the shot is already flushing. The protein shakes she lived on just stocked more shelves in a store that was locked. And the higher dose turns even more customers away at the door while the stockroom stays shut. None of it put anyone back on shift with the keys. I thought about all of that standing in my kitchen at midnight, holding that folded prescription. I was not about to end up on my own prescription list. The next morning I called Tasha. Tasha's an ER nurse I've known for years. She works nights at the hospital six blocks from my pharmacy. I asked her a question I already knew the answer to. "How many women on these shots are you seeing?" The line went dead quiet. "Every weekend now. Some come in with their heart jumping around, some can't walk for the cramps, and a couple have come in out cold. We hang magnesium and they come right back. Then we discharge them on oxide, and I watch some of them come back again." I asked what she does for herself. Another pause. "I take magnesium bisglycinate. Two gummies before bed. Have for two years." "Why that one?" "It's bound to glycine, so your body takes it in like food. About 90 percent stays in. That's twenty-two times what the oxide gives you, and it doesn't send you running to the bathroom." An ER nurse who hangs those bags every weekend, telling me quietly on the phone between her shifts what she takes herself. She said they're soft raspberry gummies from a small company, not sold in stores. I ordered that night. The first few nights, nothing big happened. There's no buzz to it and it doesn't put you out. Around day six my arches quit cramping. I worked a whole Saturday without stepping into the back once. Week two I slept through the night. No 3am, no racing heart. First time in two months. And that Friday the scale moved. Two pounds, after nine weeks of nothing. Week three the pounding was gone for good. I felt steady, like my body had finally stopped running on fumes. By week six I'd lost more than I had in the three months before the stall. On the same dose I'd been stuck on. Dr. Okafor noticed. She caught me by the drop-off window after a shift. "You never filled that higher dose, did you." "No." "What did you do?" I showed her the bag. She didn't say anything for a long time. Then she asked if she could take a picture of the label. Two weeks later three other people on staff were taking it, and one of them was her. I'm not going to tell you these are magic. They look like candy. They won't knock you out. Some people feel it the first night, and for others it takes a week or two. But over 120,000 people buy them, and fewer than two in a hundred ask for their money back. Two months after the hospital, Gail came back to my counter. No prescription this time. She set her phone on the pass-through and turned it around. Her, in the reunion dress, tags cut, at the end of a long table full of women her age, all of them laughing. Her old classmates had thrown a makeup dinner for her. She drove six hours to get there. She'd been taking the gummies every night since three days after the ER. The oxide went in the trash. No more cramps, no more pounding at night, and the scale started moving again on the dose she was already on. "I sat at the head of the table," she said. "They put me at the head." Please don't stop anything your doctor has you on. That conversation is yours and theirs. But if you're on the shot and the weight stopped coming off weeks ago, even though you're doing everything right, listen to me. If your legs cramp at night or your heart pounds at 3am and every test comes back normal, listen to me. The shot is working. Your body just doesn't have anyone on shift to let it finish the job. They're running a sale right now for first-timers, up to 35 percent off the three-bag bundle, with free D3 and K2 when you get three bags. Up to 90 days money back, and you don't even have to send it back. They sold out twelve times last year. When they sell out, the wait is four to six weeks. I checked this morning and they're still in stock. I've counted out pills for 26 years and never once handed anyone a prescription that came with their money back. Don't wait until you're the one on the floor of a plane with strangers praying over you. Gail did everything right. The only thing she was missing was the one thing nobody checked. The brand is SPNutrition. Link's below.

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spnutrition-us.com

Her Doctor Said She Was Doing Great

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