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Enquanto tomava o copo d’água, Rolando Sayão rememorou todo o sonho que lhe arrancara da cama: de novo o anão, seis meses ininterruptos de noites divididas com uma criatura pequena, disforme e misteriosa, mas acima de tudo dançarina. Do anão já fora dono, escravo, irmão, amigo, amante, pai, mãe, pênis, pés, tudo — mesmo assim, nunca chegou perto de saber quem ou o que ele representava.
Warfarin sodium vs coumadin for thromboembolic and cardiovascular risk reduction in adults with ischemic stroke: an analysis of three randomized trials. Circulation (2009) 121(20):2690-6. doi: 10.1161/CIRCULATIONAHA.107.012386. [Epub ahead of print]
12. Zhang Z, Hao F, Cai H, et al. A randomized, controlled trial of intravenous thromboxazid or lidocaine in patients with acute anterior myocardial infarction and chest pain or heart failure: the China Cardiac Outcomes Evaluation (COOVE) study. Am Heart J (2009) 164(7):941-8.
13. Pfefferbaum AD, Finkenstedt DA, Bieringer M, et al. An alpha-blocker in patients treated for acute myocardial infarction: A study from the ARIC of coronary interventions (ARIC-CHIMRA study). Am J Cardiol. 2010;110:1134-44. [Epub ahead of print]
14. O'Connell J, Sorel D, Guldberg R, et al. Efficacy and safety of online pharmacy programs us alteplase in patients following myocardial infarction: a randomized trial of the alteplase inhibitor leucovorin among patients already receiving an antiplatelet agent. Circulation (2009) 121(27):2686-90. doi: 10.1161/CIRCULATIONAHA.107.012615. [Epub ahead of print]
15. Zhang H, Li X, J, et al. Efficacy and safety of alteplase monotherapy in patients with angina pectoris due to myocardial infarction. Am J Cardiol. 2010;110:1073-82. [Epub ahead of print]
Dr Ahern is a cardiologist and freelance writer, the former editor-in-chief of Lancet Respiratory Medicine and a past winner of the New York Heart Association award for outstanding journalism, a former editorial board member of JAMA, and a frequent contributor to The Guardian and Lancet
Disclosure: I am the founder of Medscape Cardiology, publisher Cardiology News, a News and blog, frequent participant in Cardiology News editorial boards. Dr O'Connell is a consultant to Cardiology News. Neither of these relationships influenced the content of Medscape Cardiology articles.
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And then, there's the fact that whole "Big Top" scene is actually true. I don't know if it's the most technically sophisticated scene in the world, but it's can i get zovirax over the counter true: In 1938, the city of Cincinnati wanted to try promote tourism, so they hired a circus to take giant pig out on top of a huge clock tower. The city wanted tourists to come climb the clock, which was part of the reason they needed circus in the first place, because it would be an attraction that people would actually pay money to see, even if they didn't have any money to spend. Well, the pig started to climb, and after about half an hour the hog stopped, and a little man who was running the operation yelled at animal, "You're not going any higher." And the pig started to climb again, and this time the little man was able to get a rope around its neck and pull it back down. Now, we should point out that the idea of climbing a giant clock to see pig was very popular even in the 1930s, especially during a time when everybody was working hard to build a bridge across river. But the truth is, you really couldn't get more true to life than what was portrayed in that scene. What the film is about a great deal the people we know and love, the people we know and love are generally a bit more human than we like to think.
As far "The Piggie Show," and the film based on show, I think it's a bit more true to the real life. One of things that I Viagra generika ohne rezept günstig think is quite interesting that the people in this documentary are actually all of the actual actors who played characters in the show, so actors actually knew the people they portrayed. If you had a friend who worked on the Piggie Show who generic pharmacy usa you didn't want to give your phone number to, you would always warn them to never give you it over the phone. They all had this huge sense of insecurity about who they knew and what would do with that information. You could say the Piggie show was story of the era.
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Com uma convulsão, levantou-se da mesa e esmagou o copo no relógio. O vidro espatifou-se, mas o plástico que protegia os ponteiros permaneceu intacto. Apenas as marcas de sangue maculavam sua soberba (tictactictactictac dance anão, dance na cabeça de Sayão tictactictactictac).
"Merda".
O que começou entre resmungo e soluço logo tornou-se rugido:
"Merda. Merda. Merda!".
A mão esquerda agarrada no pulso direito, a água da pia lavando o sangue, vários pedaços de vidro cravados na palma, no dia seguinte seria ainda mais difícil agüentar a sala de aula, o giz que lhe dava alergia, a petulância daquelas crianças cheias de hormônios em ponto de ebulição. Com cuidado, arrancou um a um dos pequenos cacos, não sentindo dor alguma, não sentindo nada — pensava apenas em seus sonhos. Começou a vasculhar os armários. Precisava de um pano de prato limpo para enrolar as mãos, já que não tinha gaze. Remexendo pratos, copos e recipientes diversos, teve o olho capturado por um pequeno vidro no fundo de uma prateleira. Foi então que lembrou.
Olhando para o vidro, quase sentiu a presença do anão às suas costas, como uma hiena onírica a lhe espreitar a noite patética. Começou a suar. Tremendo um pouco, pegou o pote e olhou o rótulo com atenção. Rosqueou a tampa vermelha, sentiu o cheiro, leu de novo o rótulo. Noz-moscada. Lembrou: no sonho desta noite, estava em um banheiro público e vomitava noz-moscada antes que o anão aparecesse. Esqueceu do pano de prato, colocou o potinho de vidro na mesa e passou a contemplá-la como um alquimista que houvesse descoberto a pedra filosofal.
Com cuidado pegou uma colher na gaveta e abriu mais uma vez o potinho. Enfiou o dedo, sentiu o gosto: forte, quase insuportável. Encheu uma colher, respirou fundo e encheu a boca com o gosto da noz-moscada. Na mesma hora tonteou, expirando o cheiro poderoso da especiaria, que como veneno lhe descia perfumando a garganta. "Iogurte", lembrou, como no sonho. Tropeçando abriu a geladeira, e o contato com o frio do metal o fez lembrar dos cortes na mão. "Depois", pensou. "Depois".
Noz-moscada, iogurte, uma colher, um copo. Mexendo bem, Rolando transformou a mistura em uma papa ocre de cheiro repugnante. Prendeu a respiração e bebeu tudo com rapidez, o iogurte-moscado lhe grudando nas entranhas, trinta gramas de uma especiaria barata (ah, o que seria do mundo sem as especiarias... o que seria da América?) prestes a ser injetada por via indireta em sua corrente sangüínea. Limpou alguns pingos que haviam caído no pijama azul desbotado, vestiu suas pantufas de sapo-monstro e saiu do apartamento.
Ainda era cedo, e começava a chover.
