My Ozempic Journey: Packing Up

Sometimes, when you know a change is coming, the anticipation itself can create other sorts of change. (Issue #135)

Before we get to today's main topic, some miscellaneous goodies and things worth your attention…

• Visual Capitalist?has a nifty chart of?the most popular car brands in the U.S. by generation. Note which brand?isn't?there: Tesla. Over 90% of cars purchased in this country are still gas powered. I'm not saying that's a good thing—it isn't—but it's another indication that Tesla gets a disproportionate amount of media attention relative to sales.
• They're eating the dogs; they're eating the cats...?was among the more memorable moments from last week's debate between Harris and Trump. It has inspired numberless memes, but two are particularly worthwhile. First,?The Kiffness turned it into?a surprisingly catchy song. Second,?Jayden Libran?performed excerpts from Trump's more extreme statements?in the voices of Simpsons characters?(H/T La Profesora.)
• Molly White?is a crystal-clear thinker about technology. Her recent article,?Big publishers think libraries are the enemy, is about the Hachette vs. the Internet Archive lawsuit. It's important to anybody concerned about our freedom to read what we want to read.
• Will AI replace creative skills??A new study by Canva and The Harris Poll suggests the answer is "no." However, I'm reserving judgment since GenAI is getting better and better. See?this article from ZDNet?for deets; it links to the study.
• R.I.P. James Earl Jones, who died this week at 93. Associated Press has an interesting story about how Jones?licensed an AI powered version of his voice to Disney?so that Darth Vader can sound the same in perpetuity. Other actors are nervous about what this means for their chances to work in the future. I dug into adjacent territory in?Retro Futures: “Looker” (1981), Looking Back, Looking Forward, in early 2023.
• My friend Michael Estrin?has a remarkable issue of his newsletter about?finishing a draft of a new novel?and how that connects to his mental health. Michael's newsletter is ordinarily laugh out loud funny. This issue is funny, but it's also poignant. Don't miss it.
• No new Dispatch next Sunday?(unless inspiration strikes) as I'll be traveling.

Practical Matters:

• Sponsor this newsletter!?Let other?Dispatch?readers know what your business does and why they should work with you. (Reach out?here?or just hit reply.)
• Hire me to speak at your event!?Get a sample of what I'm like onstage?here.
• The idea and opinions?that I express here in?The Dispatch?are solely my own: they do not reflect the views of my employer, my consulting clients, or any of the organizations I advise.
• Please follow me?on?Bluesky,?Instagram,?LinkedIn,?Post?and?Threads?(but not X) for between-issue insights and updates.

On to our top story...

My Ozempic Journey: Packing Up

Regular?Dispatch?readers might remember a few issues back—in?Will Ozempic Kill Movie Theaters?—when I explored how the possibility of 10% of the U.S. population going onto GLP-1 weight-loss drugs like Ozempic might be the final nail in the collective coffin of moviegoing.

That piece was part of broader research we're doing at the?Center for the Digital Future?about how Ozempic (and other weight-loss drugs like it) will have second-order impacts (movie theaters, sporting events, concerts, restaurants, adult beverages, travel, fashion) that go far beyond their expected deep impact on healthcare. We're about to go into the field with a national survey, and I'll report back soon.

This issue, though, I want to explore a more personal Ozempic journey: my own.

I have Type 2 diabetes as well as other maladies that are worse because I'm overweight. I'm lucky that I don't need to give myself insulin shots, but it isn't getting better. I tried a drug called Metformin that would have done more work to manage my blood sugar and also help me to lose weight, which would have been great, but it torched my stomach.

Since I took up swimming several times each week, my general health has improved (and my knees don't hurt, which—after being a competitive fencer in my youth and slamming my knees into concrete over and over—is amazing), but my weight hasn't budged, which means neither has the diabetes.

One important secondary benefit of GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic is weight loss. Wegovy, the no-diabetes weight loss drug made by Novo Nordisk, is the identical substance as Ozempic, just at a lower dosage. Likewise, Eli Lilly's Mounjaro is for diabetes, and Zepbound, the identical substance, is just for weight loss.

At my annual physical a couple weeks back, I talked with my doctor about whether it's possible that I could trade several drugs (all for health problems made worse by weight) for one Ozempic shot each week. He said it was, and we decided to give it a try. I'm now waiting for insurance authorization, which is likely—another way that I'm lucky (probably) since out of pocket Ozempic can cost up to $1,300 per month (yikes).

I haven't even started Ozempic, but it has already changed my life.

What most people on weight-loss drugs report is that the drugs silence ongoing "food noise" in their heads. They still enjoy the taste of food, but they don't eat as much. Between meals they don't have tiny voices crooning, "y'know what would be good right now? A burger, fries, and a shake... and then lunch!"

Since I decided to try Ozempic, my food noise has gotten louder.

We were in L.A. visiting family, and my son wanted to go to In-N-Out Burger, which is what right-thinking 19 year olds want to do. While standing in line I kept thinking, "what will happen when I'm on Ozempic? Will I still want to do this with my boy?"

There's no mystery about why I'm overweight: I?love?food. All sorts: savory, sweet, carbs, salads... the only thing I don't like at all is spicy food (as I've recently?described in detail). As I've gotten older, I've only come to love?more?kinds of food: I still love the things I loved as a kid, and now I also like sushi, vegetarian, and a lot of other things I would have found icky decades back.

The idea that this love of food will just go away is scary. Loving food is a big part of who I am, so who will I be once I start taking a weight-loss drug that quiets that love of food?

I find myself pre-mourning the coming death of my love of food with every meal. Last night, La Profesora and I had a light dinner because we'd enjoyed a late lunch. I made myself a tuna melt... but after Ozempic will I just think, "nah," and skip it altogether?

I want to be healthier, to lose weight, to take fewer meds, and I also like the idea that some of my mental bandwidth devoted to food will cascade into other topics, but I already forget to eat when I'm concentrating... will that get worse? I'm investigating high-protein shakes because people on GLP-1s need to push protein to hold onto muscle mass.

Still scarier, I worry about what Ozempic might do to my?other?desires. Does the drug only turn down the contrast on my food noise?

What will happen to my desire to write articles like this one? To keep working on the novel I'm writing? To correspond with friends? To watch television? To go to the theater?

Will I still want to read books?

In life, there are two kinds of change: the expected and the unexpected.

When you get married, adopt a pet, buy a house, have a kid... you know these things are coming ahead of time, although that foreknowledge never really helps you avoid the numberless surprises that come with those changes.

Then there's the unexpected changes: a new opportunity or sudden loss, and old friend moving away or a new neighbor becoming a friend.

For me, going on Ozempic will bring expected but unpredictable changes. I'm eager to get started.

I'm also nervous.

Thanks for reading. See you on Sunday, 9/29 (unless inspiration strikes next week).

*?Image Prompt:?A picture of an open suitcase on a California king-sized bed with a brown duvet. The suitcase is half filled with clothes, toiletries, black running shoes, and a hardback book peeking out from under a red hoodie. Sun is shining onto the bed from the windows, which are not visible.