I get migranes.
Not often, but when I get them I am completely screwed for a good 12 hours. I never got them before I had children... hmmmmmm, I wonder if there is a connection. Actually there is, but it has nothing to do with the fact Geoff takes all his clothing off and smears wispride spreadable cheese all over himself, or Jessica likes to give me lip. It's hormonal. It's part of life. My brain just doesn't like to accept what's happened to my body, my hormones, my existence.
I got one last night. It was over and done with by about 2 am. I got some well needed sleep, and my husband watched the kids. I feel much better now ("I'm not dead yet...")
But I'm not here to talk about my health. There are enough journals or blogs out there outlining someone's feelings about the fact they are "a woman" today and their hormones are racing. There is enough written about how it feels to be a victim of pain...
No. I'm here to talk about medication marketing. Today, that's my topic for musing.
There are some funny commercials out there these days that always give me a chuckle. We saw one last night for an osteoperosis medication... the very athletic female narrator is adamant that time isn't going to steal 25% of HER bone mass. "I have an ally who prescribed blah blah blah medicine for me..." your ally is otherwise known as your DOCTOR or OSTEOPATH. Ally my ass. Like you are engaged in a hand to hand jungle combat with an evil communist overlord and you need an "ally" by your side to help you out. It's a doctor. Who writes this shit? So I'm already laughing my ass off, and they show this woman doing yoga somewhere that looks like Sedona in foggy camera lens, with cool music, and then she and two other women are hugging... so they're bonding over yoga, being skinny, and osteoperosis defeat! Yay! Lesbians declaring victory over the desert and bone density problems! It almost brought me to tears... dying laughing.
Another great commercial is for headache medicine, I forget the brand but I want to slap the woman. She's on her comfy couch and she states "MY headaches are like..." then she kind of looks around for a quick second, searching, searching for that PERFECT little analogy of what headaches are like, and she squinches her nose a tad and says "a little thief..." who steals her time away.
A little thief?
More like a BIG thief named Rex or Slayer who escaped from the nearest mental institution and busts open your door, pins you down and pulls your eyes out of their sockets, or rapes you with a metal pipe. Or even reaches into your nostrils and pulls your brain out through your sinus cavity. Yeah. That's more what my little thief is like. Rex.
So she has her little headache medicine that takes things on and kicks ass. Then she lives happily ever after on her perky couch with her red hair and spunky nose. Drop dead lady.
There is a migrane medicine on the market that shows all these women standing around, looking like they just don't take ANYbody's shit, no matter what. The music makes them look even tougher. Yeah, come mess with us. We'll fuck your shit right up. Yeah, they kick migrane's ASS when the little thief darkens their cranial doorstep. You go girls! I'm with you so I'm running out and buying your medicine, if I can only remember what the name brand is.
All these headache commercials feature women, too. I guess that either women get the most headaches, or perhaps they buy the most medicine. Men just suck it up and suffer. Whatever the reason, I am sure that someone out there has done lots of medical and marketing research to back up the justification for having so many women in ads for headache medicine.
Recently there have been another totally different string of commercials for prescription medicines that I have no idea what they cure or combat. These mystery medicines show people enjoying life while happy music playse in the background. For the longest damn time I had no idea that Claratin or Allegra were allergy medicines. I thought they were to combat depression... the people looked so damn happy skipping through life, enjoying themselves... I really thought that the advertised pills were a new kind of Zoloft something.
And I love the string of disclaimers voiced over at the end of commercials. Picture man playing with his Golden Retriever in a field of beautiful green grass, and the woman says "side effects include dry mouth, irritible bowels, sexual dysfunction and comas. Women who are pregnant or nursing a baby should not take [name of drug], consult your doctor if you are considering having a baby. Patients with high blood pressure or internal bleeding should contact their family doctor should blurry vision occur, because this may be a sign of a very serious side effect."
Uh, which very serious side effect? Comas? Death? Sexual dysfunction? Why do they have to tell me in the commercial... why doesn't my DOCTOR, or ally as the case may be. Perhaps he isn't my ally after all! Perhaps he is out to get me and will hide the insidiously wicked truth about some medication from me just to do me in! Oh no! Thank you marketing agency! You saved me from taking a pill that may kill me!
My doctor, cough, my ALLY, perscribed something for my malady of migranes called Zomig. I've only had to take it about 4 times in the last year. He gave me a bunch of sample boxes, which got me through for a while without having to go get the prescription filled and the crap works pretty good. I finally got the prescription filled and have some here at the office, and the rest at home.
Last night, in the midst of the beginning of my migrane when I knew the regular Ibuprofen (however it is spelled...) I'd taken about 1/2 hour before just wasn't going to pass muster, I went into the bathroom to take some of the Zomig. I pushed the tiny little pill through the obscenely huge package and vacuum sealed foil wrap, and the stupid little thing shot through the air and across the room.
What the hell! Where'd it go! How did they get that much power into a little foil air pouch?
So i started crawling around looking for it. The floor is white. The pill, white. And minuscule. And I'm starting to feel like I'm going to vomit.
Screw it, I say. Get another pill.
So this time, I'm more careful... and what happens?
Again, the little round pill becomes a little round rocket, blasting from the mandibles of my personal Cape Kennedy out into orbit somewhere between constellation known as Sink and Planet Window.
Again, I'm on the floor crawling, looking. I'm not subscribing to the "third time is a charm" theory since there are only 12 of these in a friggin box. Lose one, shame on them; lose two, shame on me. I found it and took it and slinked off to bed.
I still have a headache. Not enough caffeine, not enough water? Too much Geoffrey, too many crazy hormones in my system. Whatever the cause... nudge me if I pass out, and should I not respond, please call 911.