A medical surgeon gained international recognition by sharing magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) footage that showed how a patient’s injected hyaluronic acid fillers developed and moved on their own over time. Thousands of viewers were shocked by the results and acknowledged that their implanted fillers had never dissolved.
Dermal fillers are defined by the American Board of Cosmetic Surgery as gel-like substances that are injected into the skin to improve facial features, smooth wrinkles and soften creases, and restore lost volume. According to the American Board of Cosmetic Surgery, dermal fillers are substances that resemble gel and are injected into the skin to enhance facial features, soften creases, smooth wrinkles, and replenish lost volume.
According to the board, more than a million men and women select this well-liked face rejuvenation procedure annually. Hyaluronic acid is a common injectable filler kind that is also the most temporary. Usually, hyaluronic acid fillings last six to eighteen months. Oculoplastic surgeon Dr. Kami Parsa gained notoriety after posting an MRI video online. On Friday, July 12, Dr. Kami Parsa, an oculoplastic surgeon from Beverly Hills, California, posted a video of an MRI of a patient on his TikTok profile.
The movie demonstrated how the injections had changed the patient’s face. Over the preceding six years, the patient, a 33-year-old woman, had received more than 12 CC, or 12 milliliters, of hyaluronic acid filler injections. The movie’s MRI, which has received over 7.2 million views, showed a grey face with green dots lighting up in different spots, such as the cheeks and lips, to show where the remaining hyaluronic acid filler was.
The patient’s procedures were not disclosed by Dr. Parsa. He did, however, confirm that the material equaled 28 CC after doing a volumetric assessment to ascertain the woman’s filler amount. In the video, the physician said, “which is more than twice the amount of filler that was injected.” “This proves that hyaluronic acid fillers are hydrophilic,” he went on.
This indicates that they both enjoy being in water and stimulate tissue growth. An individual on TikTok expressed concern over the MRI, saying, “I just don’t see how this wouldn’t completely destroy the lymphatic system.” Someone wrote, “Finally, THIS IS BEING TALKED ABOUT.” “Mass production and impulsive, insane use.” I must find out more.How about botox? “Botox has a long history and is safe if performed correctly,” was the response from Dr. Parsa. The patient’s hyaluronic acid filler dosage has increased, as shown by the MRI.
I SPENT MY PROM DRESS MONEY TO HELP A HOMELESS MAN — THE NEXT DAY, HE SHOWED UP AT PROM WITH A LUXURY GIFT
The worn vinyl of the bus seat creaked beneath me as I clutched the envelope, its crisp edges softened by the warmth of my hand. Inside, the money my mom and grandma had painstakingly saved—my prom dress fund. The pink, shimmering gown that would transform me, even for one night, into the princess I’d always dreamed of being.
The bus rattled along, the familiar rhythm a comforting backdrop to my anticipation. At the next stop, the doors hissed open, and two figures boarded, their presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. They weren’t passengers; they were enforcers, their uniforms a stark contrast to the everyday clothes of the other riders.
Their attention fell upon an elderly man, his clothes tattered and his face etched with worry. He sat hunched in a corner seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The enforcers approached him, their voices sharp and demanding.
“Ticket, sir,” one of them barked.
The man’s hands trembled as he fumbled in his pockets, his eyes wide with a desperate plea. “Please, I… I don’t have one. I’m trying to get to my daughter. She’s sick, and I have to take her to the hospital. Please, I’m begging you.”
The enforcers were unmoved. “Fine,” one of them stated, his voice flat. “You’ll have to pay a fine.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. The despair in his eyes was a physical weight, a crushing burden that filled the bus. I couldn’t bear it. The thought of my own mother, sick and helpless, flashed through my mind. What if she needed help, and no one cared?
Without a second thought, I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, the crisp air filling my lungs with a sudden rush of determination. “I’ll pay his fine!” I declared, extending the envelope towards the enforcers.
The bus fell silent. The enforcers exchanged surprised glances, then looked at me, then at the man. I didn’t waver. I knew, deep down, that this was the right thing to do. Some things were more important than a dress, even a dream dress.
The enforcers, after a moment of hesitation, accepted the money. The elderly man’s eyes filled with tears, and he rushed towards me, his voice choked with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, child. You’ve saved my daughter’s life.”
He thanked me over and over, his voice a trembling whisper, before hurrying off the bus, his urgency palpable. I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and a tiny pang of sadness swirling within me.
The next day, prom was a whirlwind of glitter and laughter. I wore a simple dress borrowed from a friend, feeling a little out of place but strangely content. I’d told my mom and grandma what happened, and they’d hugged me, their eyes filled with pride.
As the music swelled, and couples swayed on the dance floor, a commotion erupted near the entrance. I turned to see what was happening, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing there, amidst the sea of shimmering gowns and tailored suits, was the elderly man from the bus, his face beaming. Beside him stood a young woman, her face pale but her eyes bright. And in his hands, he held a large, velvet-wrapped box.
He walked towards me, his steps slow but steady. “My dear child,” he said, his voice ringing with warmth. “I wanted to thank you properly. You saved my daughter, and I can never repay you. But I hope this small token will express my gratitude.”
He presented the box to me. I opened it, my fingers trembling. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a dress. Not just any dress, but a masterpiece. It was pink, shimmering, and exquisitely crafted. It was the dress of my dreams, even more beautiful than I had imagined.
“My daughter,” the man explained, his eyes filled with tears, “she’s a seamstress. She made this for you, with all her heart.”
I was speechless, tears welling up in my eyes. The dress was perfect, a symbol of the kindness I had shown and the kindness I had received in return. That night, I didn’t just feel like a princess. I felt like a hero, and I knew that some things, some moments, were worth more than all the dresses in the world.
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