I have to write this to make sense about the world I , (hopefully we) live in. I feel like an alien from another place, or maybe some guy who was born in the wrong era.
I wrote a rant a while back about how the medical profession has marketed their way into our lives through fear and health as a beauty statement. Many, no a lot of people believe you can’t achieve health, beauty, or physical excellence without something.
The “lifespan and medicine argument” don’t cut it with me either so don’t even go there before i get started. Folks will point to how long people live today as justification for making the Dr. part of their everyday life, and it makes sense if you don’t think about it.
Just remember though that the 112 year old doing the commercial was probably born at home, didn’t have pre natal care, and didn’t go to the Dr. Unless it was an emergency; so that argument doesn’t work.
The Pill. I was trying to think back to the first example of the pharmaceutical industry marketing a chemical concoction to “enhance” life, verses for treating the symptoms of a disease, condition, or injury. The birth control pill is the first example I could think of. It’s funny that the name is what it does, verses a catchy noun like Viagra.
Remember the Rolling Stones song,
“Momma’s little helpers” from the 60’s, probably not. Well it’s basically about married woman bored or overwhelmed with the whole American ideal family so she goes to the doctor to get a “little yellow pill to calm her down”. After a short list of doldrums associated with being a 60’s housewife it says ” you can’t tranquilizer your mind.” So now I’m seeing a little light in a dark corner.
I remember those little blue and yellow capsules neighbors used to trade like cups of sugar. Librium was the name on the bottle. Back then you could hand the bottle to your 8 year old and tell them to walk a couple houses down and give the bottle to Aunt Bettie and get a bag of sugar to bring back. No big deal, that wasn’t a crime or child endangerment back then, it was a good deed.
So basically I’m thinking that whole propaganda thing on black white television was a hoax. You know, the hour glass shaped lady with the sparkly eyes standing next to the latest kitchen appliance with her hand elegantly outstretched.
I didn’t realize when I was young that her eyes were sparkly from the “little helper”, her hour glass figure was from eating pills instead of food, and her hand was outstretched for more “little helpers. Damn, the naivety of youth.
Here we are 50 odd years later and who’s to blame? Is it the doctor who prescribes medicines so people can continue living in a dysfunctional situation or frame of mind, or both? Is it the pharmaceutical industry who has a little side business making pills that don’t treat anything real, but help us live in an imaginary world? Or is it us, for continuing to live in ways we can’t stand, but can’t leave? Maybe we need a pill for courage and fortitude!
All I know is everywhere I go someone is in some form of altered physiological state. So do I really know anyone I know? Wow, that’s a trip, without taking the microdot or windowpane. You couldn’t have written the current state of the American dysfunction if you tried, that’s why I’m starting to believe I’m truly not the crazy one.
So today if you’re psychologically uncomfortable with your life you have two choices; change your life or medicate yourself. If your kids are too much you can discipline them or medicate them. If you’re overweight, (which you probably are if you’re a true American.) you can change your eating habits or “take something”. He’ll, even if you’re a little socially inept you don’t have to put yourself out there, you can take a pill and become who you think you want to be.
So here I sit realizing I don’t know anyone I know. I am viewed as strange cause I don’t even take aspirin after tiling a floor, which is back braking. I could lose a few pounds and tobacco is a constant problem. But I feel all my pains, psychological and physical.
I just think that my memories are worth the trouble, and I’m afraid getting wrapped up in the drug game, legal or otherwise, would hamper that process. Who knows though, hallucinations could be memories too!