Vicki
Herbal Alchemist
Ask Your Doctor if This Big Pharma Scam Is Right for You: The Dangers of a Drugged Up America
http://www.alternet.org/story/15533...e_dangers_of_a_drugged_up_america?page=entire
In medicated America, the fix for every problem is just a prescription away. Except that it's not.
May 8, 2012
Butterflies waft across a beautiful field of spring flowers. A delightful young family bicycles joyously down a country lane. A couple on a park bench leans sensually into each other. A 40-something woman's face radiates with both perfect beauty and internal happiness. "All's right with the world," is the message... as long as you've taken your dosages of Lunesta, Celebrex, Cialis, and Botox.
Welcome to medicated America, where the fix for every problem--from incontinence to erectile dysfunction, stiff joints to mood swings, weight gain to wrinkles-- is just a prescription away.
The better question, though, is one that cartoonist Dan Piraro expressed in one of his "Bizarro" panels: "Ask your doctor if playing into the hands of the pharmaceutical industry is right for you."
One would assume that in a rich, medically advanced, health-conscious nation like ours, dicey decisions about whether to allow a particular pharmaceutical product into our bodies would be among the most rational we make--as determined by (1) the best science available, (2) the strict moral duty of medical purveyors to "First, do no harm," (3) good government regulation, and (4) the profession's fear of public reproach and legal punishment. One would, however, be wrong on all counts:
Corporations don't spend money to dramatize the severity of their products' nasty side effects. As two ad execs giddily put it in a 1998 report to the industry, "The ultimate goal of DTC advertising is to stimulate consumers to ask their doctors about the advertised drug and then, hopefully, get the prescription." Obviously, to "get the prescription," corporate ads don't stress such unpleasant outcomes as these (taken from the small print of full-page ads for just a half dozen heavily advertised drugs): very high fevers, confusion, uncontrollable bowel movements, trouble swallowing, lower sperm count, prostate cancer, loss of vision, suicidal thoughts... and, of course, death.
Ethics aside, these consumer hustles have proven to be profit bonanzas:
Here are key elements of the DTD operation:
The file. Each doctor is a mark, and drug reps are trained intelligence gatherers who build and constantly update a computerized corporate file on the doc's personality, preferences, interests, and any personal tidbits that might help them change his or her prescribing habits. The strategic goal of good reps is to become each doctor's trusted "friend"--not unlike the relationship that lobbyists try to cultivate with lawmakers.
The data. How can pill peddlers know which ones your doctor is prescribing--isn't that a private matter? Not in today's bluntly intrusive world of commercial data mining. A majority of pharmacies sell their records of every single prescription written by doctors doing business with them. This vast trove of computerized info is bought by such data hawkers as IMS Health, which procures prescriptions from about 70 percent of US pharmacies.
The gift. Reps don't go to a physician's office empty-handed. Gourmet donuts and lunch treats for the entire staff are daily routines, and doctors and key staffers are treated to dinners at fine restaurants, holiday gift baskets, tickets to a game or show, and such nice personal presents as a silk tie or a monogrammed golf bag. A New York Times report in January of this year says that two-thirds of doctors accept such goodies.
For the heavy prescribers of a drugmaker's concoctions, the gifts grow ever-larger--a ski trip to Aspen, an invitation to make weekly paid "lunch and learn" presentations in other doctors' offices, an honorarium to make brief comments at a conference in some five-star resort (complete with an "educational grant" to cover the bar tabs and other incidentals), big-buck "consulting" contracts that require practically no work, and outright cash payments for prescribing particular drugs. The Times' January report found "that about a quarter of doctors take cash payments" and "that they are more willing to prescribe drugs in risky and unapproved ways."
The hoax. Few doctors are experts in the chemistry and biological impacts of particular medicines, so they rely on honest studies and tests (as reported in credible medical journals) to give them an un-hyped, non-sales-rep picture of the pluses and minuses of the drugs they choose to prescribe to you and me. Unfortunately, this process, too, has been corrupted--drugmakers have regularly paid doctors and researchers to conduct studies and publish results without revealing their financial ties. Pfizer, however, sank this sales-over-science approach to new lows when it launched its antidepressant, Zoloft, in the 1990s.
It hired an advertising firm to fabricate "studies," write them up as salutary reports about the drug, pay some big-name psychiatrists a couple of thousand bucks each to put their names on the reports, and convince major journals (read by thousands of doctors) to publish the ghostwritten "findings." About half of the medical articles about Zoloft at that time were ad agency fakes. Journal editors, embarrassed by being scammed, have since imposed safeguards, but many doctors and observers say that up to 20 percent of major journal articles are still being ghosted.
In this ethos, such loathsome products as blatant price gouging, artificial shortages of vital medicines, deliberate promotion of pills that kill, falsification of medical research, and routine corruption of doctors are not merely tolerated, but expected and accepted as normal.
http://www.alternet.org/story/15533...e_dangers_of_a_drugged_up_america?page=entire
In medicated America, the fix for every problem is just a prescription away. Except that it's not.
May 8, 2012
Butterflies waft across a beautiful field of spring flowers. A delightful young family bicycles joyously down a country lane. A couple on a park bench leans sensually into each other. A 40-something woman's face radiates with both perfect beauty and internal happiness. "All's right with the world," is the message... as long as you've taken your dosages of Lunesta, Celebrex, Cialis, and Botox.
Welcome to medicated America, where the fix for every problem--from incontinence to erectile dysfunction, stiff joints to mood swings, weight gain to wrinkles-- is just a prescription away.
The better question, though, is one that cartoonist Dan Piraro expressed in one of his "Bizarro" panels: "Ask your doctor if playing into the hands of the pharmaceutical industry is right for you."
One would assume that in a rich, medically advanced, health-conscious nation like ours, dicey decisions about whether to allow a particular pharmaceutical product into our bodies would be among the most rational we make--as determined by (1) the best science available, (2) the strict moral duty of medical purveyors to "First, do no harm," (3) good government regulation, and (4) the profession's fear of public reproach and legal punishment. One would, however, be wrong on all counts:
- Science has been supplanted by rank hucksterism
- The strictest "moral duty" of corporate executives has been reduced to maximizing profits
- A "good" regulation is one that's good for profit seekers
- Public reproach is just a momentary embarrassment to be covered over by corporate image makers
- Legal "punishment" never includes jail time, but only a fine that's easily absorbed as a necessary cost of doing business by these immensely profitable entities.
Corporations don't spend money to dramatize the severity of their products' nasty side effects. As two ad execs giddily put it in a 1998 report to the industry, "The ultimate goal of DTC advertising is to stimulate consumers to ask their doctors about the advertised drug and then, hopefully, get the prescription." Obviously, to "get the prescription," corporate ads don't stress such unpleasant outcomes as these (taken from the small print of full-page ads for just a half dozen heavily advertised drugs): very high fevers, confusion, uncontrollable bowel movements, trouble swallowing, lower sperm count, prostate cancer, loss of vision, suicidal thoughts... and, of course, death.
Ethics aside, these consumer hustles have proven to be profit bonanzas:
- From 2000 through 2004, Merck & Co. poured more than $500 million into adverts promoting Vioxx, turning the pain pill into one of the "Top 100 Megabrands" listed by Advertising Age. The drug was meant for the relatively few people who can't stomach aspirin, but the PR push touted it to all arthritis patients, a much larger marketing pool. The campaign promised "everyday victories" over pain and immobility, featuring former Olympic skating champ Dorothy Hamill spinning effortlessly (and pain-free) on the ice.
- Merck's ads sold some 20 million Vioxx prescriptions, including to people who paid the ultimate price for buying the hype--a 2005 research report in The Lancet, the prestigious British medical journal, attributed as many as 140,000 sudden cardiac "events" in America to the use of Vioxx. In September of 2004, Merck took the pill off the market over "safety concerns." As an expert pharmacy consultant toldForbes magazine in 2006, "Vioxx wasn't a bad drug for everyone, it was a bad drug for certain patients. Unfortunately, people saw the ads and started demanding the drug from their doctors." That's the deadly power of mass advertising for drugs.
- Bear in mind that these pitches are being made to consumers who cannot just go purchase the product--only licensed medical professionals can diagnose and prescribe. But, again, the promotions work, as an industry spokesman happily affirmed: "There's a strong correlation between the amount of money pharmaceutical companies spend on DTC advertising and what drug patients are most often requesting from physicians." He also noted that the trumpeting of brand-name pills "is definitely driving patients to the doctor's office."
- In 2007, Johnson & Johnson launched the first mass-audience TV commercials for highly specialized, complex therapeutic devices. This is beyond odd; it is dangerous. Only expert practitioners have the knowledge and experience to judge whether one brand-name medical gizmo is superior to another. Yet, here was J&J doing a pitch to us clueless consumers for "Cypher," a drug-coated coronary stent for opening closed arteries. I'm all for consumers getting more say in health care, but--come on!--how would I know enough about the efficacy of various stents to instruct my doctor to "Make mine Cyphers"?
Here are key elements of the DTD operation:
The file. Each doctor is a mark, and drug reps are trained intelligence gatherers who build and constantly update a computerized corporate file on the doc's personality, preferences, interests, and any personal tidbits that might help them change his or her prescribing habits. The strategic goal of good reps is to become each doctor's trusted "friend"--not unlike the relationship that lobbyists try to cultivate with lawmakers.
The data. How can pill peddlers know which ones your doctor is prescribing--isn't that a private matter? Not in today's bluntly intrusive world of commercial data mining. A majority of pharmacies sell their records of every single prescription written by doctors doing business with them. This vast trove of computerized info is bought by such data hawkers as IMS Health, which procures prescriptions from about 70 percent of US pharmacies.
The gift. Reps don't go to a physician's office empty-handed. Gourmet donuts and lunch treats for the entire staff are daily routines, and doctors and key staffers are treated to dinners at fine restaurants, holiday gift baskets, tickets to a game or show, and such nice personal presents as a silk tie or a monogrammed golf bag. A New York Times report in January of this year says that two-thirds of doctors accept such goodies.
For the heavy prescribers of a drugmaker's concoctions, the gifts grow ever-larger--a ski trip to Aspen, an invitation to make weekly paid "lunch and learn" presentations in other doctors' offices, an honorarium to make brief comments at a conference in some five-star resort (complete with an "educational grant" to cover the bar tabs and other incidentals), big-buck "consulting" contracts that require practically no work, and outright cash payments for prescribing particular drugs. The Times' January report found "that about a quarter of doctors take cash payments" and "that they are more willing to prescribe drugs in risky and unapproved ways."
The hoax. Few doctors are experts in the chemistry and biological impacts of particular medicines, so they rely on honest studies and tests (as reported in credible medical journals) to give them an un-hyped, non-sales-rep picture of the pluses and minuses of the drugs they choose to prescribe to you and me. Unfortunately, this process, too, has been corrupted--drugmakers have regularly paid doctors and researchers to conduct studies and publish results without revealing their financial ties. Pfizer, however, sank this sales-over-science approach to new lows when it launched its antidepressant, Zoloft, in the 1990s.
It hired an advertising firm to fabricate "studies," write them up as salutary reports about the drug, pay some big-name psychiatrists a couple of thousand bucks each to put their names on the reports, and convince major journals (read by thousands of doctors) to publish the ghostwritten "findings." About half of the medical articles about Zoloft at that time were ad agency fakes. Journal editors, embarrassed by being scammed, have since imposed safeguards, but many doctors and observers say that up to 20 percent of major journal articles are still being ghosted.
In this ethos, such loathsome products as blatant price gouging, artificial shortages of vital medicines, deliberate promotion of pills that kill, falsification of medical research, and routine corruption of doctors are not merely tolerated, but expected and accepted as normal.
