Are there any uglier words in the industrial world than the names of prescription drugs?
Imagine telling someone your doctor ordered you to take two Zilgiflux after every meal⢠Or a spoonful of Psylpukalor at bedtime?
So it may have been bad for business but at least a short reprieve for the English language when Merck & Co. last week announced a halt to development of a new insomnia drug, abominably called gaboxodol.
Who thinks up such atrocitiesâ¢
The well-deserved death of that particular coinage was no joke for Merck's partner in Europe, the Danish firm H. Lundbeck. Poor Lundbeck's shares took their worst one-day drubbing in four years.
Bloomberg News said the firm had been hoping gaboxodol would ease its dependence on a really big sales item, Lexapro. Not to be confused with Carbitrol, Rozerem, Placidyl or Prozac. What a crew. Traditional brand names at least sounded made up by people: Wheaties, Cadillac, Coca-Cola, Palmolive. The new crop suggests a computer trying to imitate human speech. Just unrelated syllables.
Lexapro is an anti-depressant, although you wouldn't know it by the word. Gaboxodol would have peacefully administered a knockout blow if you toss and turn at night. But laboratory test data didn't show persuasive enough results to continue the investment, said Merck.
All drug makers are under pressure to keep coming up with new medicines, and original names for them, as pills and powders go "off patent." When that doomsday occurs, generic drug makers rush in to produce the profitable potions cheaper.
Insomnia is an especially restless market. Spurned by the arms of Morpheus, millions of us evidently reach for a little bottle of something by the bedside.
In this country alone, consumers spent $3 billion last year on two somnolence inducers, Lunesta and Ambien. Both happen to have nicer sounding names than average (thanks to focus group testing no doubt). Lunesta is promoted in TV commercials. They feature the lightest of cartooned butterflies wafting in through the curtains. Ambien goes off patent protection in a month.
U.S. doctors who in the past might have advised a glass of warm milk at 10 o'clock, or a good book till the eyelids droop, wrote 57 million insomnia prescriptions in 2006. There are 300 million Americans all told, so a fair percentage of us must be using.
Pharmacies did miss a blip last March when news reports coupled a brand name pill not only to traffic arrests -- understandable enough when drowsy -- but binge-eating, tooâ¢
U.S. Rep. Patrick Kennedy, D-R.I., added to the lore of his family's accident proneness. He crashed a car into a security barrier in Washington, told police he'd taken one pill for sleeplessness, another for nausea.
Don't mix, the Food and Drug Administration urged physicians to warn patients; sleeping pills don't go with drinking. Or driving.
They never said that about warm milk or a good book. No warning labels needed.
