Chemical Christmas at the Elder-care Industrial Complex
Warmest of now-defunct Season’s Greetings to all, including, but not limited to, the following:
Festive Kwanzaa! Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! And of course, others I failed to mention!!
I address this missive mainly to my fellow ‘Boomers’ who may have an
elderly relative languishing in this or that ‘retirement’ home. Should
this be the case, one should go out of one’s way to go visit them and
offer some T.L.C., because, after all, the biggest factor in the
unsatisfactoriness of their existence at this point is loneliness.
Yes, despite being surrounded by others of their ilk and having
multifarious venues of entertainment foisted on them (sorry to say this
could mean a constantly blaring television), the one thing they’re
missing is family.
And that’s hardly surprising: anyone who has ever visited one of
these pricey ‘retreats’ (or should we say 'repositories') can attest to the deep sadness that
seems to hang in the air despite all attempts at provoking cheer, and that stands double this time of year.
But there is another, subtle, yet huge sinister side to our elder-care industrial complex, aside from superficial difficulties — such as inability to finding and retaining willing and
able help — and apart from its high cost, which in and of itself will
gladly hasten evaporation of your elder’s savings during their tenure.
I refer specifically to one of the prime tentacles of our overarching healthcare industrial complex, and that is without a doubt, Big Pharma, in this case handily enabled by its foot soldiers: primary care physicians who tend to feed off the elderly. But don’t expect this elephant in the room to be pegged, let alone rightly rebuked by Consumer Reports or (much less likely) AARP.
And don't anticipate the trend to slow considerably once boomers fall into the same trap; it seems, by and large, that we're skittering down the same overdrugged slope of over-reliance on chemical medicine that the elderly are, unless, of course, we wake up, en masse and reverse course.
But don’t get me wrong with respect to the medical profession: we should respect doctors; after all, they took that famed oath — “Primum no Nocere” ( “First do no Harm”) prior to entering practice.
And the field is definitely populated with good-hearted people. Yet when we consider the abundance
of medical research that is primarily funded by the pharmaceutical industry, we can’t help being extremely suspicious when a loved one is being obviously and odiously over-medicated.
I feel my aunt has entered that realm at the ripe age of 87.
It is interesting — and quite frankly infuriating — that not long after she entered that retirement home — replete with minuscule $2300.00 per month cubicle — her medications went from two to five; now six.
And these aren’t exactly baby aspirin. They’re powerful (and powerfully
priced), highly questionable pharmaceuticals, one ACE inhibitor
(angiotensin converting enzyme). and two statins, (a class of
medications targeting ‘bad’ cholesterol.) Additionally, she somehow
magically developed a thyroid condition, for which Thyroxine is added
to her pill collection.
But the biggest offender for her, and the clear winner for Wall
Street is by far Lipitor©, which for my Auntie, runs on the order of
$300.00 a month.
Well, surprise of surprises!! This particular statin is the largest selling product being aggressively marketed to the elderly in America, and by far one of the best selling elixirs of all
time. But old folks have, in many cases, been sold a bill of goods on cholesterol-lowering medications, and numerous peer-reviewed studies point to the fact that women and the elderly do not respond as well to this atorvastatin class of statins.
I strongly suspect that the retirement-home paradigm shares a high and unacceptable level of complicity in the pharmaceutical hammering of seniors. Each time we visit, it seems
there’s a delivery car from the friendly local pharmacy parked in the sterile parking lot, delivering profitable products to a passive group of otherwise discerning individuals who are, sad to say, sitting ducks. Free delivery, eh? Sign me right up! You might hear them say.
But if I had my say, she'd be right outta there.
Dr. Zigmoid Whupsteen
Zigsteen@yahoo.com
