WISH I HAD THE GUTS TO SPEAK UP

It's been five years since my Dad died, but every time I read a headline about a drug he was taking during his last months of life, I feel sick.

The drug is Risperdal.

It's back in the news again because its manufacturer was fined a billion dollars in Arkansas for marketing the drug in "misleading ways" through that state's Medicaid system.

Though originally billed as an anti psychotic to treat schizophrenia and bipolar mania, it was also used for a very lucrative "side job" - as a sedative for elderly patients.

My Dad fit into that category. He was acting-up while he was in assisted living, got demoted to the nursing home, and needed to behave. So he was promptly prescribed Risperdal and from then on in, he moved and comprehended in slow motion, like a film reel being shown at marmalade speed. Noticing that he seemed distant and almost "frozen," we asked the nursing home staff about his meds, but they assured us he was status quo and I never inquired about it again.

Truthfully, my sisters and I were barely managing to keep all of the nursing home balls in the air at one time, so drugs doses and side effects were just one of the fish we had to learn to fry. 

Now, years later, when I learn that the makers of Risperdal have been levied a behemoth fine, I'm glad that they received a financial smackdown, but sad that they profited by drugging-up my Dad and many other older adults.

If this blatant drug misuse had never made the papers, I wouldn't have been any the wiser.

But learning that it was deliberately misrepresented has taught me a lesson: If my gut tells me something seems amiss - especially if I'm someone's caretaker - I should ask questions. And if my gut isn't satisfied with the answers, I should politely but firmly speak up and ask again.

And I believe that a bright, alert and sympathetic Daddy Bones would readily agree.