nancynall.com » Pricey little pill.

Pricey little pill.

Ron’s series con­tin­ues. Today’s focus is Big Pharma:

When Gen­eral Motors Corp. CEO Rick Wag­oner has night­mares, they might be about Toy­ota. Then again, they might be about Mae Gumbinger.

The 79-year-old wife of a GM retiree in Port St. Lucie, Fla., takes 15 pre­scrip­tion med­i­cines each day. She takes Plavix to thin her blood and Min­can­dis to lower her blood pres­sure. She swal­lows Namenda and Ari­cept for her mem­ory, Clar­inex for her aller­gies and Nex­ium for her stom­ach. One pill helps her sleep, another pill cuts her pain, and six more pre­scrip­tions are sup­posed to help with a skin con­di­tion she’s had for years, though she can’t remem­ber what the skin con­di­tion is and she’s pretty sure the drugs aren’t help­ing.

Gen­eral Motors will pay about $16,000 for drugs this year for Mae and her hus­band, GM retiree Ralph Gumbinger, the equiv­a­lent of giv­ing the cou­ple a new Chevro­let Mal­ibu.

The story is full of lit­tle jaw-droppers; every story about GM is full of jaw-droppers. Most Amer­i­cans sim­ply don’t under­stand just how big this com­pany is, which is the under­lay­ment for a cer­tain what-can-you-do atti­tude you find around here among GM work­ers (most peo­ple) and those whose for­tunes are tied to it (every­one). The com­pany is the Nimitz, a giant air­craft car­rier plow­ing through heavy seas. It can take a few tor­pe­does. If it can’t exactly turn on a dime, well, it’s unsink­able too.

Or so peo­ple believe. Please, no Titanic jokes.

Any­way, those jaw-droppers: GM spends $17 mil­lion a year — $17 mil­lion! A year! — on erec­tile dys­func­tion drugs. Sixty per­cent of the money spent on antibi­otics is flushed down the toi­let, because they’re pre­scribed for con­di­tions that don’t respond to antibi­otics. In 1999, seven years ago, half of GM employ­ees were get­ting name-brand drugs, even when gener­ics were avail­able. The intro­duc­tion of a generic equiv­a­lent for Zocor, a cholesterol-lowering statin drug, presents the oppor­tu­nity for GM to save $100 mil­lion a year.

(Again: $100 mil­lion. For one drug. This is one big com­pany.)

The pas­sage about Zocor is unclear, but seems to imply that work­ers have a choice to switch to the generic; “edu­ca­tion and finan­cial incen­tives” are the plan to get more of them to do so. How about this for a finan­cial incen­tive: Switch to the generic or pay for it out of your own pocket, bub. I’ve had drug plans like that, and I know they’re out there. The day Zocor went off-patent ear­lier this year, phar­macy ben­e­fits man­agers all over the coun­try were on the phone to the generic drug plants in India at 12:01 a.m., won­der­ing when those pills were going to start rolling out, and how soon could they get them. When $100 mil­lion is at stake, you play hard­ball.

Unless of course, the choice is part of a labor con­tract, which is entirely pos­si­ble. Defi­ance, Ohio, my husband’s home­town, is a GM town, and its retirees are com­mon in my mother-in-law’s social cir­cle. They whine like tod­dlers over the idea of a $5 co-pay for pre­scrip­tion drugs, because they used to pay noth­ing, and now they have to pay some­thing.

As this NYT col­umn points out, Most fam­i­lies in the 1950’s paid their med­ical bills with ease, but they also didn’t expect much in return. After a cen­tury of basic health improve­ments like indoor plumb­ing and peni­cillin, many experts thought that human beings were approach­ing the lim­its of longevity. “Mod­ern med­i­cine has lit­tle to offer for the pre­ven­tion or treat­ment of chronic and degen­er­a­tive dis­eases,�? the biol­o­gist René Dubos wrote in the 1960’s.

But then doc­tors fig­ured out that high blood pres­sure and high cho­les­terol caused heart attacks, and they devel­oped new treat­ments. Oncol­o­gists learned how to attack leukemia, enabling most chil­dren who receive a diag­no­sis of it today to tri­umph over a dis­ease that was almost inevitably fatal a half-century ago. In the last few years, orphan drugs that com­bat rare dis­eases and med­ical devices like the implantable defib­ril­la­tor have extended lives. Human longevity still hasn’t hit the wall that was feared 50 years ago.

Most of those retirees, once upon a time, would have taken their gold watch, shuf­fled off to Florida, played a lit­tle golf and qui­etly expired by their 70th birth­day or there­abouts. Now they’re liv­ing to vast old ages, helped along by tech­no­log­i­cal and phar­ma­ceu­ti­cal wiz­ardry. Now it’s time to pay. Espe­cially if you’re tak­ing drugs for rest­less legs syn­drome.

Oh, well. Don’t want to bore you all silly.

Last Sat­ur­day was a fine, sunny one, and I spent my Sat­ur­day bike ride stop­ping at garage sales. (Does this negate the aer­o­bic exer­cise? I choose to believe it doesn’t.) Scored a nice cut-glass wine coaster and a sil­ver­plate serv­ing piece, seen here:

silver.jpg

It holds a 9-by-13 bak­ing dish; you can prac­ti­cally see the pota­toes au gratin in it now, can’t you? It was black with tar­nish, and as you can see, a lit­tle elbow grease works won­ders. I paid $6 for the two items, and over­heard a con­ver­sa­tion among the pro­pri­etors:

“Can you imag­ine? He offered me a dol­lar. I told him, ‘I would rather throw this away than let you have it for a dol­lar!’ He made me so mad.”

This is not a use­ful atti­tude to have in busi­ness, is it? Cer­tainly not in garage sales. The bar­gain in a garage sale is sim­ple: You offer crap you don’t want any­more, in hopes that oth­ers will not con­sider it crap, and will pay you a lit­tle bit of money for it. “A lit­tle bit of money” — this is the garage-sale bar­gain, at least my garage sales. You can set your prices wher­ever you want, but you’d bet­ter be will­ing to come down a lit­tle. Many don’t seem to under­stand this. Case in point: I stopped at a sale not long ago, and imme­di­ately spot­ted a small night­stand. I can use one of those. It was from the L.L. Bean cot­tage col­lec­tion, and was brand-new, still wrapped in plas­tic. A hand-lettered sign said: “Amaz­ing bar­gain! Was $299, now $199!” Which seemed pretty damn high, but OK, let’s take a look. I opened the drawer, which slid out smoothly, and revealed the orig­i­nal price tag: “WAS $299, NOW $199.”

In other words, some­one made a bad pur­chase, couldn’t use it, and now wants to get their money back. All of their money back. You’ve got to be kid­ding.

The sil­ver piece was priced at $5. I offered $4. She agreed. Now it has a new home and Thanks­giv­ing to look for­ward to. I bet that night­stand is still in the orig­i­nal seller’s base­ment, wait­ing for the next infla­tion­ary spike to make $199 look like a bar­gain.

Not hap­pen­ing. There’s a generic equiv­a­lent now: Ikea. It’s the 21st cen­tury, and it’s every man for him­self.

14 responses to
“Pricey little pill.”

  1. brian stouder said on September 27th, 2006 at 10:20 am

    There’s a generic equiv­a­lent now: Ikea. It’s the 21st cen­tury, and it’s every man for him­self.

    The GM arti­cles are excel­lent; very enlight­en­ing, and sober­ing. One of the inescapable aspects of the GM story (at least to me) is that GM appar­ently was hand­ing out blank checks, and was mak­ing no (or woe­fully inad­e­quate) pro­vi­sions for how to cover them.

    How many arti­cles have we read over the years about very tough nego­ti­a­tions and “give-backs” and all the rest? And in all that, STILL no one on the cor­po­rate side ever twisted arms about “generic” pre­scrip­tions (to name just one thing that is worth bil­lions of dol­lars)?

    One can under­stand that times were dif­fer­ent when the con­tracts were orig­i­nally signed; it can also be said that the cars they built were very dif­fer­ent.

    Every­thing changes over time – and it strikes me that the effort to NOT change GM’s self-insurance ben­e­fits (aka Santa Claus’s bot­tom­less bag of toys), even to the exclu­sion of generic pre­scrip­tions, is akin to bark­ing at the moon, or curs­ing at the tides

  2. Randy said on September 27th, 2006 at 10:44 am

    My father receives extremely gen­er­ous health ben­e­fits from Kraft Foods. He and my mom are on a vari­ety of med­ica­tions, and they receive sev­eral thou­sand dol­lars of cov­er­age for these, along with den­tal and other ben­e­fits.

    But here’s the thing: my dad worked for Kraft for two years, part-time! It was his last job before retire­ment, and they’re giv­ing him ben­e­fits like he was there his whole life. Crazy.

    Be care­ful when con­sid­er­ing shares in Kraft, or who­ever owns them…

  3. brian stouder said on September 27th, 2006 at 11:06 am

    Say – a digres­sion; what is a “Pub­lic Edi­tor”? An ombuds­man? Or would this per­son more rightly be described as a PR flak?

    check out this piece, about (Pulitzer prize win­ning) NY Times reporter Linda Green­house

    http://​www​.msnbc​.msn​.com/​i​d​/​1​5​0​26618/

    the ‘pub­lic edi­tor’ says that, although he never got a sin­gle com­plaint about her report­ing (ie – what they pay her for), still

    ““It’s been a basic tenet of jour­nal­ism … that the reporter’s ide­ol­ogy (has) to be sup­pressed and sub­merged, so the reader has absolute con­fi­dence that what he or she is read­ing is not col­ored by pre­vi­ous views�?

    Really?

  4. Joe Kobiela said on September 27th, 2006 at 11:26 am

    Being a auto worker I think I can talk a bit on this sub­ject. When things were good the big three made buck­ets of money, and instead of invest­ing in the future they spent like drunken sailors buy­ing company’s they had no bussi­ness buy­ing and giv­ing out huge bonuses to upper man­ag­ment. Mean while down on the shop floor the guy sweat­ing away, actu­ally mak­ing the prod­uct wanted a lit­tle more for his effort, so when con­tract time came he told the boss, Look lets float a lit­tle of that cash down here or will just stop mak­ing the cars, So the big three gave us lit­tle guys a bit more and we con­tin­ued to work and make the cars.Fast for­wards to now, Things are bad, boss says look we have to cut back so say good buy to your pen­sion and health care. We say fine we will help out, and buy the way how much are you in man­ag­ment cut­ting back??? Answer, WHAT US CUT BACK YOU MUST BE JOKING, See the prob­lem?? I am work­ing for less than I made 15 yrs ago doing the same job, my stock is worth zero due to bank­ruptsy and yet my CEO wants a 16,0000,000.00 buy out because he said his pay was tied to stock opp­tions he wont get so he told the judge, he should be paid in cash.
    They can screw me but they can not make me like it.
    Joe

  5. nancy said on September 27th, 2006 at 11:44 am

    Joe, your prob­lem is legion here. When Del­phi announced its bankruptcy-related cut­backs, which involved mak­ing salaried work­ers take a 50 per­cent pay cut, they also qui­etly dis­closed they’d be pay­ing fat bonuses to cer­tain man­agers. They didn’t want the brass run­ning for lifeboats when the ship needed to be pumped out.

    One writer here said the think­ing was, “What’s the harm? How could the rank and file hate us any more than they do now?”

  6. Dwight Brown said on September 27th, 2006 at 2:02 pm

    “Oncol­o­gists learned how to attack leukemia, enabling most chil­dren who receive a diag­no­sis of it today to tri­umph over a dis­ease that was almost inevitably fatal a half-century ago. ”

    I remem­ber watch­ing a PBS spe­cial a few years back that talked about this at some length. I still get kind of moved think­ing about it: we’ve gone from “almost inevitably fatal” to…well, I don’t know what the cure rate is now, but I believe it is pretty darn high.

    And I keep think­ing about those doc­tors 50 years ago, who were basi­cally watch­ing these small chil­dren dying, try­ing des­per­ate treat­ments (because, hey, some­thing might work, and they’re going to die if it doesn’t). I won­der how many thought to them­selves “If I was just a lit­tle bit smarter, could I cure these patients?” I’m not a doc­tor, but I think it wasn’t a ques­tion of smart: it was a ques­tion of hav­ing the tools to make the tools that could make the cures.

    I know I couldn’t do the kind of work those doc­tors were doing back then. Or, from a more con­tem­po­rary view­point, in the early days of AIDS. Not only am I not cut out to be a doc­tor for a lot of rea­sons, but I don’t think I could stand there, watch­ing patients die, and ask­ing myself the “If I was…” ques­tion.

    I don’t know how the peo­ple who do this endure.

  7. Danny said on September 27th, 2006 at 8:51 pm

    You know, some­times I am just not the sharpest tool in the shed. I just got you play on Ala­nis Morissette’s song “Jagged Lit­tle Pill.”

    Duh.

  8. Pam said on September 28th, 2006 at 9:16 am

    If the Gumbinger’s in Port St. Lucie were on my cor­po­rate plan, they would have seen their share of the phar­macy tab jump to $2,100 annual out of pocket expense before the co-pay of $6 kicks in. And depend­ing upon your phar­macy tab, that total amount could be due in Jan­u­ary, not spread out over the entire year. The $6 looks pretty good then. It’s expected that the $2100 share will go up next year and the year after. The med­ical side saw sim­i­lar jumps. I used to work with a man who took so many pills that he didn’t know what half of them were for. And many peo­ple who do this need to take pills to sleep and pills to wake up because the phar­macy load screws up their bior­thymns. After he retired, he weaned him­self off almost all the pills and can finally sleep with­out the aid of a pill. While I think that work­ers should share more in the expense of health care, I agree with Joe K. above, that we’re not see­ing equal pain at the CEO level.

  9. Jen said on September 28th, 2006 at 11:10 am

    We need GM and other such large orga­ni­za­tions to be telling it like it is to gov­ern­ment lead­ers. Amer­i­cans have been trained to think that they should have per­fect auton­omy in mak­ing choices about health­care even though, in many cases, they lack the infor­ma­tion needed to make med­ically sound choices. And doc­tors have, his­tor­i­cally, relied too much on their clin­i­cal judg­ment and expe­ri­ence rather than tested par­ac­tice guide­lines.

    All that is chang­ing now. The cost is out of con­trol, and, although the mor­tal­ity rates for AIDS and leukemia have dropped dra­mat­i­cally, there are many indi­ca­tions that the qual­ity of care most peo­ple get–as opposed to what is available–is poor. It’s incom­pat­i­ble w/ estab­lished stan­dards of prac­tice; it’s rid­dled with med­ical errors that lead to need­less deaths; and, com­pared to some other coun­tries, it pro­duces poor results.

    Some­body needs to have the polit­i­cal courage to tell the Amer­i­can peo­ple and the health care estab­lish­ment that we need to change. We are pay­ing too much and get­ting too lit­tle.

  10. Jim in Fla said on September 28th, 2006 at 12:01 pm

    On the other hand, it occurs to me that most of the med­ical advances we’ve see in the last half cen­tury came about because some­body (or some com­pany) believed they could make a boat­load of money devel­op­ing a cure. With­out the finan­cial incen­tive, polio, leukemia, aids and many other dis­eases would prob­a­bly still be an early death sen­tence.

  11. mary said on September 28th, 2006 at 1:31 pm

    I have a nephew who watched his best friend die if pedi­atric leukemia at the age of 10. Joe Menardi, we still remem­ber you. He decided then to become a doc­tor, and now he’s an oncol­o­gist, spe­cial­iz­ing in leukemia. He went to Ivy League schools on schol­ar­ships: Dart­mouth, Colum­bia, Yale. I’ve never seen such a dri­ven per­son. He’s doing exactly what he said he would do thirty years ago. I feel like such a lame slacker by com­par­i­son.

  12. brian stouder said on September 28th, 2006 at 3:02 pm

    I feel like such a lame slacker by com­par­i­son

    well, the world needs peo­ple like him to slay med­ical drag­ons (or at least give them a good fight) – AND peo­ple like you, who can go toe-to-toe with (reputed) cor­po­rate ones, such as Leona Helm­sly

  13. mary said on September 28th, 2006 at 4:09 pm

    It’s not the same, Brian. He’s doing bone mar­row trans­plants and sav­ing lives. I was just play­ing chicken with a plas­tic surgery vic­tim.

  14. brian stouder said on September 28th, 2006 at 4:57 pm

    Mary – I know what you mean. I remem­ber years ago – in my ‘reli­gion period’ (to take a line from Lit­tle Big Man) the real­iza­tion dawned on me that one is never really doing as much as one could.

    The whole con­cept of the “Third World” sort of illu­mi­nates that defen­sive apart­ness. Church-goers could give up their west­ern life-styles, and run mis­sion­ary schools in the east Africa; Doc­tors could vol­un­teer to work in Paraguay; reg­u­lar worka­day schmoes (like me) could work every day and every week­end, at what­ever local cause needs the help.

    I think very few of us do all we can do; and like­wise, not many peo­ple are flat-out doing noth­ing.

    By way of say­ing, I sus­pect the world is a bet­ter place for hav­ing you in it