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A 30-second diagnosis from a doctor-in-the-box

By Clayton Norlen

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Published: Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Updated: Saturday, July 19, 2008

All it takes is one sleepless night and only the television for company and almost overnight, you're an insomniac. It's not your fault: There's a little hypochondriac in us all.

Even channel surfing in broad daylight could be detrimental to your health depending on what commercial you happen to catch.

Some days, the doctor-in-the-box diagnoses you as morbidly obese. On others, that pimple on your chin is a precursor to boils--and the death of your social life.

When did we start letting the television diagnose in 30 seconds what it took a doctor with seven years of higher education to understand? Is it harmful to have ads for sleeping aids, weight-loss wonder pills and antidepressants spliced between "America's Next Top Model," "Desperate Housewives" and "Ninja Warrior"? I'm sure it's not helping anyone; but more than that, I doubt our ability as consumers to distinguish between needs and wants when these ads tell us they can fix our "problems."

We let one prescription drug have a 30-second clip after some late night soap, and we opened Pandora's box. Suddenly, every man wasn't large enough below the belt, and the idea of free love was rampant in retirement homes with the introduction of Viagra.

"Herbal" pills promise women a larger bust size, then spout out terms they pulled from the nearest medical dictionary, hoping you--the consumer--see them as legitimate just because the voiceover person could read a five-syllable word off a cue card. These companies find a medical professional desperate for a buck, cut him or her a check and suddenly Dr. Watson will swear on his grandma's grave that product X is a medical breakthrough.

Late one sleepless night, you saw Lunesta's ad and its offer for a free week trial. Being the informed and inquisitive consumer that you are, you researched Lunesta's Web site and tried the seven-day free sample. Wow, you did get eight hours of comatose sleep, and it was great. But then your sample ended and you went in to the doctor hoping to get the prescription the commercial told you to get.

If addicts went in asking doctors for what they knew would make their day a little easier, they'd be labeled addicts. But because the TV and not some hipster on the street turned you on to this wonder drug, it's socially acceptable.

The TV is a tool that reaches nearly every home in America and commonly more than one room in the house. I doubt that many people need to be receiving information on how to cure depression, lose weight and solve erectile dysfunction on an hourly basis. While, sure, these products may help some Americans live more productive lives, the doctor-in-the-box isn't the one who should be providing the diagnosis.

These commercials aren't going anywhere in the near future--if anything, they will only become more and more common. So, the responsibility falls on the shoulders of the consumer--you--to distinguish between the fact and fiction spliced between your favorite shows.