Where to draw the line on side effects
Thirteen months in and it’s still hard to fully imagine what a postpandemic planet looks like, whether it’s somehow refreshingly similar to 2019 or the further manifestation of a skittish, distrustful dystopia we helped create by underestimating high global levels of dumbassery.
Either way, we’ll get there, eventually, vaccines willing and pathogenic variants be damned.
In the meantime, just one side note advising that if, at some point, I throw myself off the roof, it won’t be for any of the classically demonstrable reasons related to the depressive effects of being in the house for going on 400 consecutive days. I don’t want anybody to think that. I don’t want anybody to think it was due to rejection by either of my wonderful support groups, Columnists Without Talk Shows or Humans Without Podcasts. And no one should think for a minute it was because of the Pirates. They can’t help it.
Let the record show then, that any throwing myself off the roof, defenestration, or other act resulting in immediate finality will be for one reason and one reason only:
I could not stand to hear one more side effect.
So for cause of death, just write down all of them.
Dizziness upon standing, impaired judgment, sleepiness, sores, dry mouth, new skin growth, lung inflammation, fever, stiff muscles, confusion, weight gain, trouble swallowing, unusual urges . . .
Yes, exactly, unusual urges -like the urge to throw yourself off the roof.
Problem is, as I interpret it, we watch a lot of news around here, and a lot of quiz shows, and the marketing people out in front of the business model of these productions are absolutely convinced the audience is either on the wrong type of medication or somehow doesn’t realize there’s a medication available that might – might – help ameliorate whatever particular malady they are afflicted with at that moment.
If you don’t necessarily believe in American exceptionalism, you can believe that this is one of the very few countries that allows direct marketing of prescription drugs to potential customers, the tradeoff being that manufacturers must say the most serious side effects out loud.
Loyal readers of this column (aka The Dirty Dozen) might realize I’ve hit this topic before, but that was well before the pandemic, well before the medications and the side effects getting listed out loud to a captive audience became its own big pandemic-centric side effect.
It’s gotten so bad, so out-of-control, that drug makers are starting to squawk about the side effects of Simparica TRIO – vomiting, diarrhea, lethargy, anorexia, ear infection, frequent urination, hyperactivity – the typical depressing blitz of cautionary advisories, except that Simparica
TRIO is for dogs.
That’s where I’ve drawn the line. I’m not listening to dog side effects. I know them. May cause butt dragging across the carpet, gnawing of the forearms, twitching during sleep, emptying the hamper, or shamelessly licking his you know what in the background during Zoom calls.
Monday night, during the final 12 minutes of “ABC World News Tonight with David Muir,” whose voice always seems calibrated to reading a Stephen King novel, I heard of 34 possible side effects in four ads, including the relatively new and extremely chilling “tell your doctor right away if you have a genital area infection, since a rare but serious genital infection may be life threatening.”
In an advertising category where benefits are mostly overstated and side effects largely understated, it’s a little less than reassuring that the downsides are suddenly sounding a lot more serious.
Meds are coming with an increased risk of death or stroke, fever, stiff muscles, or confusion which could mean a life-threatening reaction, high blood sugar, which may be fatal, and, oh yeah, a rare potentially fatal brain condition may be possible.
Big Pharma is also becoming more insistent on the side effect featuring “uncontrolled muscle movements which may be permanent,” an affliction I’d considered permanently debunked in the “Seinfeld” episode where George seeks out a doctor for sudden elbow movement because he can’t possibly admit that he’s faking.
“I’ve examined you; I’ve looked at your X-rays, and I find that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, nothing that would indicate involuntary spasm,” says the doc.
“Well, it’s kind of a mystery isn’t it?” asks George.
“No, not really0
“May I suggest the possibility that you’re faking.”
“What makes you think I have the time to see doctors, take Xrays, make appointments, when there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me? What kind of a person would do something like that?”
“Obviously a very sick person, a very immature person, a person who has no regard for wasting other people’s valuable time.”
He’s the kind of person I hear about every night between “Jeopardy!” and “Double Jeopardy!”, currently so far into the weeds on the guest-host issue that they’re doing quarterbacks of the NFC North. The kind of person perhaps unwittingly exposing him or herself to tingling, chills, eye pain, hair loss, muscle cramps, stomach cramps, bladder infections, red urine, bursting into tears, bone loss, disorientation that may be life threatening, involuntary muscle movements that may be permanent but probably aren’t, nausea, palpitations, impaired judgment, sleepiness, manic episodes, dry mouth, and/ or tears in the stomach and/or intestines.
Is that it?
Hell no; I’ll bet they’ve got another 400 days’ worth, minimum.