I check nutrition statistics on cups of yogurt and I read the three-page essay my pharmacist puts in the bag with my blood pressure medication. I start reading the terms and conditions that pop up on my computer which order me to “agree” -- or else! I hardly ever finish these long disclaimers because they’re boring and legal-sounding. They’re full of stuff like, “We may, from time to time, revise these terms and conditions.”
I click “agree,” even though it says I have just agreed to pay all applicable fees and I have agreed that my subscription will be automatically renewed when a certain amount of time passes.
I have to, or I can’t get the next text box.
I absorb dire warnings about side effects from over-the-counter and prescription medications, even though they scare the bejeezus out of me. The last possibility, if I stick it out to the end of the list, is always “sudden death.” I guess this leaves the manufacturer off the hook.
If I’m able to sidestep a quick and unexpected demise, however, I might expect dizziness, upset stomach, muscle cramps, irregular heartbeat, insomnia, rash, chills, hair loss, dry mouth, abdominal bloating, slurred speech, itching, swelling, depression or suicidal thoughts.
If someone starts a new medication, then experiences a symptom, does she get her own personal symptom placed on this list?
Even if she is the only one?
Is “upset stomach” included because some obese slob entered a pie-eating contest and scarfed down 10 cherry pies within eight minutes on the day after he started taking atenolol?
How many pill-takers have to barf before “upset stomach” makes the list?
I also experience mild anxiety when I have to swallow large pills. I can do small tablets, capsules, caplets coated with something slippery, gel caps and those tablets that dissolve in your mouth. But big dry lozenges that stick to my tongue and threaten to go down my esophagus sideways? It’s enough to launch a wave of dizziness, upset stomach, muscle cramps, irregular heartbeat, insomnia, rash, chills, hair loss, dry mouth, abdominal bloating, slurred speech, itching, swelling, depression or suicidal thoughts.
I bought some new vitamins recently. In the olden days, the box holding the vitamin bottle showed a picture of the actual pill, actual size. I could see it right there on the outside of the sealed box and decide if my esophagus could handle it.
These days, I have to guess how big the vitamins are. I shake the box. I search for a picture. I ask the pharmacist, who usually has no idea. I’ve guessed wrong a couple of times, which
means I pass unused giant vitamins on to family members or friends who don’t share my esophageal phobia.
But hooray and hallelujah, I finally found some vitamins smaller than AA Duracells. They’re called One A Day Women’s Petites, which is boldly printed on the box and on the bottle inside the box.
The dosage? Two tablets.
Just for the fun of it, I Googled side effects for multivitamins. They include upset stomach; allergic reactions such as rash; hives; itching; red, swollen, blistered or peeling skin with or without fever; wheezing; tightness in the chest or throat; trouble breathing, swallowing or talking; unusual hoarseness; or swelling of the mouth, face, lips, tongue or throat.
And – by the way – shouldn’t these petite vitamins be called Two A Day?