Who comes up with the names of prescription drugs anyway? Take for example the drug
abilify. An antipsychotic drug, the name is apparently meant to represent a new verb
that will stimulate non-functioning mental patients to jump out of their chairs and
start climbing the corporate ladder. Or how about that other anti-psychotic, trilafon?
The makers of this drug were obviously trying to suggest “try laughing”. Obviously
the manufacturers of this pill had never personally experienced the scary delusions
or hallucinations that their pill was meant to treat, otherwise they would have
never made such a zany suggestion. Here’s another one from the antipsychotic category:
Mellaril. I suggest that the marketing people for that drug come up with a
catchy tune with the words “Mellow out with mellaril”. Maybe something from the
Country and Western category?

Lest we think that goofy drug names are restricted to the anti-psychotic class
(whose patrons might be thought to not be able to complain since they were, well… psychotic),
let’s look at asthma drugs. Singulair is obviously meant to imply that you will only
need to take one (single!) drug to get some… air. Well singulair may be making
you want to go out to go out and catch some air since it may be making you, well… nuts.
( (”If they Can’t Kill Us They Might Drive Us Crazy”). Oh, one more from the asthma category:
Serevent. This one is supposed to make us think of “breathing easy” (i.e. “SEREne VENTilation”).
Kind of strange though for a drug that was described as causing patients to “die while
clutching their inhalers”.

Hmmm. Not a very serene thought.

I think the drug-naming wonks should get with the make-up naming folks–OPI nail polish always has great names; so does most lipstick. Of course, “Hot Night at the Villa” could be seen as making a claim…

1. The name is deemed to be confusingly close to that of another drug, creating the potential for prescription errors. E.g., omeprazole was originally launched as Losec,but after a period of time on-market reports began to come in that the name was too similar to Lasix (a commonly used and powerful diuretic) so the name was changed to Prilosec.

2. The name is deemed to constitute a “representation” about the drug’s efficacy, activity, or some other characteristic, which FDA considers a marketing “claim.” Since all claims must be balanced with risk information, and the drug’s name is often seen in contexts which do not provide “fair balance” (quotes used here to indicate terms of art, not to make any kind of editorial comment), this is considered a violation of the Food, Drug & Cosmetic Act. Hence the brand name Regaine, under which the prescription drug minoxidil was marketed for many years in other countries for the treatment of male pattern hair loss, was deemed by FDA to represent an impermissible claim that users would regain lost hair, and thus the name was changed to Rogaine in the US.

Interestingly, FDA vigilance over the second class of brand-name issues has waxed and waned over the years. I remember being astonished when, in the late 1990s, Wyeth received approval to market a new low-dose oral contraceptive (containing less estrogen than many other OCs) as Alesse.

In recent years, however, FDA’s pendulum seems to have swung back to a more aggressive interpretation on this issue. Both Acomplia (rimonabant) and Champix (varenicline) were disallowed by FDA as containing implied claims. Rimonabant, which never made it to market here, would have had to settle for the name Zimulti (which always struck me as more like the name of a pasta…or perhaps a circus act, “The Flying Zimultis”); and the currently ill-starred varenicline is, as only a hermit could be unaware of by now, marketed as Chantix.