I’ve got the fucking hump and no mistake I can tell you. Last year I had to get surgery, and as a reward for all the unpleasantness, I booked us a couple of weeks in a swanky drum in Gran Caneria for early 2025. We should be there as I write, enjoying some good wine and food in the warm weather. We’re not; I’ve been grounded by a heart scare.
(I can go on your behalf and sent you a postcard. Let me know – NA)
As a result of this, I’ve been put on a veritable cocktail of no less than six medications, that’s on top of other stuff I already take. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m now thoroughly dazed, confused and anxious after trying to wade my way through the fucking Dead Sea Scroll of ‘patient information’ that comes in tiny print in every box.
Where do I begin? Well for starters I’m told that I shouldn’t take the medication if I’m allergic to it. Well how exactly am I supposed to find out whether I’m allergic to it if I don’t take it?
But as you read on, it just gets plain scary; the list of possible side effects and consequences is enough to make you piss yourself. To name just a few, I might suffer vomiting, diarrhoea, constipation and nausea; blurred vision or blindness; rashes, dry itchy skin or hives; fainting, headaches, loss of consciousness, confusion or memory loss; palpitations, heart attack or stroke; severe internal and/or external bleeding; hearing loss (may be irreversible); death (almost certainly irreversible). Don’t take alcohol. Don’t take THIS at the same time as THAT.The list just goes on and on… I’m now thinking that I’ll have to go and see a pharmacist just to work out a schedule.
Oh, and if I suffer any of the above complications, I’m to contact my physician IMMEDIATELY. Good job then that when I saw her earlier, she gave me her private number so that I can contact her any time, 24/7.
Naturally I realise that in putting me on all this stuff, the hospital is trying to act in my best interests, but trying to wade through all the pages and pages of ifs, buts and maybes in each case makes me wonder if the cure mightn’t actually kill me. Big Pharma just wants to cover its fat corporate arse against any and every eventuality of course, but the screeds on any patient information leaflet is enough to leave any punter with a pounding headache and a bad case of anxiety just for starters;
Go on cunters, just have a look at this one for example. It’s about as much practical help as an ash tray on a motor bike, and about as reassuring as a handshake from Stalin. Read it and weep.
Nominated by : Ron Knee