Have you ever noticed that the minute you get diagnosed with something, suddenly every commercial is about it?
Before diagnosis?
Nothing.
You could watch television for six hours and apparently nobody in America had ever heard of your disease.
Then you get diagnosed.
Suddenly pharmaceutical companies are everywhere.
Iām watching TV:
āLiving with Crohnās disease?ā
Excuse me?
Scroll Facebook:
āFor adults with Myasthenia Gravisā¦ā
Hold on.
Instagram:
āAsk your doctor aboutā¦ā
HOW DO YāALL KNOW?!
At this point, Iām expecting someone from Big Pharma to pop out from behind my couch and ask how Iāve been feeling since my last appointment.
Because apparently my diagnosis came with a complimentary pharmaceutical advertising subscription.
And there is no unsubscribe button.
šŗ First, They Sell You the Dream
Medication commercials always start beautifully.
Someone who has supposedly been struggling with a chronic illness is suddenly living a life more adventurous than mine has ever been.
Sheās hiking.
Heās riding a bicycle.
Theyāre traveling.
Someone is gardening.
Thereās usually a golden retriever.
And for reasons I still donāt understand, somebody is always near a kayak.
Apparently, medication doesnāt just treat your disease.
It comes with an entire lifestyle package.
Prescription benefits may include:
A bicycle.
A vegetable garden.
A golden retriever.
Perfectly diverse and supportive friends.
An unexplained desire to hike before sunrise.
And, of courseā¦
A kayak.
Meanwhile, Iām sitting on the couch thinking:
Wait. Is the kayak included with the prescription, or do I have to meet my deductible first?
Because nobody explained these benefits to me.
Also, where are the realistic chronic illness commercials?
Show me somebody taking their medication while lying on the couch with a heating pad, wearing pajamas at 2:00 in the afternoon, scrolling through their phone and debating whether walking to the kitchen is worth the energy expenditure.
Show me somebody opening the refrigerator, staring inside for three minutes, deciding thereās nothing worth the effort, and going back to bed.
THAT person I trust.
Iād immediately be like:
Yep. Those are my people. What medication are we taking?
But no.
Apparently, weāre kayaking.
ā ļø And Then the Commercial Takes a Turn
For the first 20 seconds:
You could get your life back!
Next 20 seconds:
You could travel!
Next 10 seconds:
You could hike!
Then suddenly:
This medication may increase your risk of serious infectionsā¦
Wait.
Rare but serious reactions may occurā¦
Hold on.
Some reactions may be fatalā¦
EXCUSE ME?!
We were just at a barbecue thirty seconds ago.
HOW DID WE GET HERE?!
Meanwhile, nobody in the commercial seems concerned.
Susan is still gardening.
Robert is still riding his bicycle.
The children are laughing.
The golden retriever is running through a field.
And Susan has apparently decided that NOW is the perfect time to plant hydrangeas.
SUSAN!
PUT DOWN THE GARDENING TOOLS AND LISTEN!
Did you not hear what this man just said?!
Because I heard him.
LOUD AND CLEAR.
Susan apparently has better coping skills than I do.
š āDo Not Take This Medication Ifā¦ā
Then comes one of my personal favorites:
āDo not take this medication if you are allergic to this medication.ā
Thank you.
Because I was absolutely planning to knowingly take medication Iām allergic to until this commercial intervened.
Crisis averted.
Then:
āTell your doctor if you have an infection.ā
Which one?
I have autoimmune diseases.
Please narrow the search parameters.
Then we get:
Headache.
Nausea.
Fatigue.
Abdominal discomfort.
And Iām sitting there thinking:
Oh, so basically Tuesday?
Because my diseases already came with several of those features at no additional charge.
No copay.
No prior authorization.
No manufacturer coupon required.
Apparently, Crohnās and MG believe in providing the full-service package.
Very generous of them. I did not subscribe.
š Soā¦Do I Take It or Update My Beneficiaries?
This is where pharmaceutical commercials really shine.
The first half says:
āYou deserve to live your life again.ā
And Iām thinking:
Absolutely!
Then the second half says:
āSerious and potentially life-threatening complications may occur.ā
Now Iām sitting upright.
By the end of the commercial, Iām no longer asking:
Should I talk to my doctor about this medication?
Iām asking:
Should I take this medication or update my beneficiaries?
Because that escalated quickly.
And somehow, through ALL of this, the people in the commercial are still smiling.
Iām traumatized.
Susan has harvested tomatoes.
Robert finished his bike ride.
The dog is having the best day of his life.
And somebody has officially launched the kayak.
Meanwhile, I have forgotten what television show I was watching.
š± Then You Make the Rookie Mistake: You Google It
This is where those of us living with chronic illness occasionally make questionable life choices.
We see the commercial.
We hear the scary side effects.
We tell ourselves:
āIām just going to look it up really quickly.ā
There is no such thing as really quickly when you have chronic illness and Wi-Fi.
Thirty minutes later, Iām three medical websites deep.
Iāve read the prescribing information.
Iāve found a patient forum from 2017.
Iāve somehow landed on Reddit.
I have PubMed open even though nobody invited me there.
And someone named AutoimmuneWarrior472 has just told me about something that happened to their cousinās neighborās hairstylist.
Now I have:
47 questions.
Three screenshots.
Sixteen browser tabs.
One medical article requiring me to Google the definitions of words inside the medical article.
And an entirely new concern I didnāt have before the commercial started.
All because I was trying to watch television.
š Hereās Where the Humor Meets Reality
As funny as pharmaceutical commercials can seem, medication side effects are a serious subject.
People deserve to know about potential risks.
We should know.
We should ask questions.
We should understand, as much as possible, what weāre putting into our bodies and why.
But hearing a rapid-fire list of potential adverse effects during a television commercial isnāt the same as understanding what those risks actually mean for you.
A commercial canāt explain your individual medical history.
It doesnāt know your disease severity.
It doesnāt know what other medications youāre taking.
It canāt tell you how likely a particular side effect may be in your individual circumstances.
And perhaps most importantly, it canāt fully explain something those of us living with chronic illness eventually have to confront:
Not treating a disease can carry risks too.
āļø Side Effects vs. Untreated Disease
One of the biggest lessons Iāve learned through my own health journey is that treatment decisions arenāt as simple as asking:
āDoes this medication have side effects?ā
Because medications can have potential side effects.
The more useful questions are:
What are the potential benefits?
What are the risks?
How likely are those risks?
What should I watch for?
Are there alternatives?
And:
What could happen if my disease isnāt adequately treated?
Thatās the conversation a commercial cannot have with me.
My healthcare team can.
Because sometimes chronic illness means choosing between options when none of them comes with a giant flashing sign saying:
CONGRATULATIONS! THIS IS DEFINITELY THE RIGHT ANSWER!
Sometimes youāre weighing risks against other risks.
Potential complications against symptoms youāre already experiencing.
Treatment uncertainty against the possible consequences of uncontrolled disease.
Thatās not a decision that belongs to Susan, Robert, their golden retriever, or whoever is currently paddling the kayak.
Thatās a decision that requires information, context, questions, and conversations with the people actually involved in my healthcare.
š§ But Those Commercials STILL Get in My Head
Understanding all of that doesnāt mean Iām immune to pharmaceutical commercials.
Absolutely not.
Because once they mention one of my diagnoses, I immediately stop whatever Iām doing.
āOh. Weāre talking about ME now?ā
Volume up.
Phone down.
Full attention.
Then they mention a medication Iāve taken.
Now Iām practically conducting an investigation.
WAIT. IāM TAKING THAT!
Suddenly Iām listening like there will be a quiz afterward.
And if they mention a side effect Iāve experienced?
Oh, now weāre in full detective mode.
Interesting.
Screenshot.
Mental note.
Add it to the list for my next appointment.
Maybe Google it.
Actuallyā¦
Weāve already established that Google and I need boundaries.
Chronic illness apparently comes with several unpaid positions:
Patient.
Advocate.
Appointment coordinator.
Insurance negotiator.
Symptom tracker.
Medical-record keeper.
Pharmacy liaison.
Prior-authorization stalker.
And apparentlyā¦
Amateur pharmaceutical researcher.
The benefits are terrible.
The hours are worse.
Vacation requests are routinely denied by my own body.
And HR has yet to return my calls.
šµ Music Playingā¦
If pharmaceutical commercials had their own soundtrack, Iām convinced it would begin with something cheerful and inspirational.
Birds chirping.
Acoustic guitar.
Maybe a little piano.
Then halfway throughā¦
DUN. DUN. DUUUUN.
Full suspense soundtrack.
Because thatās exactly the emotional journey they just took me on.
Hope.
Possibility.
Gardening.
Golden retriever.
Kayaking.
Serious adverse event.
Roll credits.
Honestly, pharmaceutical commercials donāt need background music.
They need a plot twist warning.
š Reflection Corner
The humor aside, medication concerns deserve real conversations.
There is nothing wrong with being nervous about possible side effects.
There is nothing wrong with asking questions.
Actually, we should ask them.
What are the most common side effects?
Which serious complications should I know about?
How often do they happen?
Are there particular risks because of my medical history or other medications?
What symptoms should make me contact my healthcare team?
Why is this particular treatment being recommended for me?
What are my alternatives?
What are the risks of delaying or declining treatment?
Those questions transform a frightening list of possibilities into information we can actually use.
Because being informed doesnāt mean pretending medication has no risks.
It means understanding those risks in context.
And context is something a commercial simply cannot provide.
š The Reality of Chronic Illness
Getting diagnosed changes the way you hear medication commercials.
Before chronic illness, theyāre background noise.
After diagnosis?
YOU HEAR EVERY. SINGLE. WORD.
Especially when they mention your disease.
Suddenly:
āOh, weāre talking about me now?ā
And yes, sometimes those commercials scare us.
Sometimes they send us directly to Google.
Sometimes they make us question treatments weāve finally gotten comfortable with.
Sometimes they remind us of questions we genuinely should ask.
But they shouldnāt make our healthcare decisions for us.
So Iāll keep asking questions.
Iāll keep learning.
Iāll keep advocating for myself.
Iāll keep discussing the benefits and risks with my healthcare team.
And Iāll continue doing what chronic illness has taught me to do:
Get the information. Ask the questions. Understand my options. Then make the decision thatās right for my body.
But there is still one matter I need resolved.
If anybody figures out which pharmacy is giving away the complimentary kayak, golden retriever, bicycle, vegetable garden, supportive friend group, and sudden enthusiasm for outdoor recreational activitiesā¦
PLEASE let me know.
Because Iāve been filling prescriptions for years, and apparently somebody owes me a considerable amount of back benefits.
At minimumā¦
I WANT MY DOG.
And after everything prior authorization has put me through?
I believe Iāve earned the kayak too.
šš
š¬ Letās Talk
Have you ever seen a commercial for one of your medications and suddenly thought:
āWAITā¦Iām taking THAT?!ā
Has a medication commercial ever made you nervous about starting or continuing a treatment?
Or have you ever told yourself you were going to Google one little thing and emerged 45 minutes later with 17 browser tabs and several new questions?
Tell me about it.
These are conversations worth havingāboth the funny parts and the serious ones.
And if youāve already received your pharmaceutical kayakā¦
we definitely need to talk.
Thank you for spending a little time with me inside The Dual Diagnosis Diaries. š
If this entry made you laugh, think, feel seen, or reminded you of your own experience, please like, subscribe, and share. You never know who may need the information, the perspective, or simply the reminder that someone else understands.
Until next time, Iāll keep learning, advocating, asking questions, laughing when I can, and documenting the realities of this dual-diagnosis lifeāone diary entry at a time.
And apparentlyā¦
waiting for my kayak.
Founder ā¢ Author ā¢ Advocate ā¢ Future Wellness Coach
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries š
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