By Siri Carpenter

updated 8:34 a.m. ET Nov. 17, 2008

About a year ago, my mother told my father there was a movie she really wanted to see and suggested they catch it that evening. Great idea — except that, as my dad gently reminded her, they had just seen it.

Though he tried to make light of it at the time, Mom's memory lapse was not an isolated event. She often repeated herself, misplaced one thing after another, and neglected commitments she didn't remember making. A woman with a gift for banter, she now found it difficult to carry on a conversation because she was so easily distracted. Most disturbing of all: She was only 61.

Mom, too, sensed something was wrong.

A teacher of English as a second language, she was known for her supple mind but now felt as if her brain was shrouded in fog. "I'm not as smart as I used to be," she told me recently. Fearing she might be suffering from some kind of early onset dementia, she made an appointment with a neuropsychologist and asked me to go with her.

I said I would, even though I suspected another culprit: the potent brew of medications she was taking for the litany of medical problems that has plagued her for years. She consumed so many drugs every day — 21 of them, prescribed to her by five different physicians—that she lugged them around in a toolbox. A partial list: two blood pressure medications, four for asthma, a cholesterol-lowering statin, and several others to treat her diabetes, fibromyalgia, depression, fatigue, and acid reflux. I assumed that, to coordinate this chemical assault upon her ailments, my mom's doctors talked to each other regularly, that her internist was closely monitoring her medications to prevent any dangerous interactions, and that every pill Mom popped was part of a carefully crafted treatment plan.

How naive.

When I took my mom to see the neuropsychologist, I was startled to learn just how naive my assumption was. The specialist dismissed outright my suggestion that polypharmacy (the use of multiple meds) might be to blame for Mom's porous memory and perhaps some of her other ailments as well. Without even knowing what my mom was taking (never mind the sheer quantity), she confidently asserted that drug-related problems come on more suddenly. I'm not a medical doctor, either, but I do have a PhD in psychology and know that complex situations can be unpredictable. The neuropsychologist's blithe dismissal irked me, so I did some research on my own.

Here's what I learned: The use of multiple, often unnecessary medications — especially among older people — is an entrenched, escalating, frightening, and mostly unexamined problem in modern health care. Although medications can ease many conditions, multiple-drug use often exacerbates existing ailments and causes troubling side effects that are treated with yet more drugs. Many doctors, researchers, and pharmacists I talked to agree. "Overmedication is a true epidemic," says Armon B. Neel Jr., PharmD, a clinical pharmacist in Georgia who evaluates medication plans for private and nursing home clients. "It's completely out of hand."

I also learned that, with the help of professionals, a determined patient can dramatically scale back her prescription drug use and eliminate, or at least reduce, the jumble of side effects that has clearly contributed to her downward spiral. That's what my mom did, emerging from her med-induced fog to reclaim her former vibrant self. This is the story of her comeback — a cautionary tale for everyone who takes several medications every day.

What's behind the Rx cascade
Polypharmacy is most common among people over age 65, about one-fifth of whom take at least 10 medications a week. Because the body absorbs, metabolizes, and rids itself of drugs more slowly with age, a dose considered safe for a middle-age woman can be toxic to her parent. In fact, the Institute of Medicine estimates that at least 1.5 million adverse drug events occur in the United States every year, thousands of them fatal. Studies indicate that about one-third of these drug reactions among senior citizens — and 42 percent of serious, life-threatening, or fatal events — are preventable. Doctors often mistake the ensuing physical response — memory lapse, fatigue, abdominal pain, swelling, or other ailments — as a sign of worsening disease. This can lead to a "prescribing cascade," says Jeffrey Delafuente, FCCP, a professor of pharmacy at Virginia Commonwealth University. "The solution is to reduce the number of drugs. Adding more just exacerbates the problem."

Seeing various doctors or specialists contributes to that cascade. According to the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, 81 percent of people with serious chronic conditions have two or more physicians, more than half have three or more, and a third have four or more. Specialists don't always know everything a patient is already taking, says Paul Takahashi, MD, a geriatrician at the Mayo Clinic. Primary care physicians are supposed to oversee the management of their patients' various medications, he says, but unless a new drug is clearly contraindicated, they're often reluctant to second-guess specialists' decisions. To be fair, doctors are not entirely to blame for rampant over-prescribing. In recent years, federal health panels have handed down more stringent targets for controlling chronic diseases such as hypertension and high cholesterol. Medication is often the quickest and surest way to get results — a strategy endorsed by insurance companies, which are reluctant to pay for less well-documented natural therapies.

Patients, too, unwittingly compound their own problems. "As a culture, we've come to expect that there's a pill for every ailment," says Stephen Bartels, MD, director of Dartmouth Medical School's Centers for Health and Aging. "Patients ask for medications they've seen advertised, and sometimes it's easiest for physicians to just prescribe them rather than encourage behavioral changes or preventive steps." Each added prescription increases the likelihood not only of a problematic interaction but also of misuse. Studies show that half of older people sometimes fail to follow their Rx instructions. It's no wonder. Consider my mom's regimen: She took 32 pills a day, at five different times — some once a day, some twice, some three times, and some as needed. One pill had to be split in half for the morning dose but not for the evening dose. Some were taken with food, others on an empty stomach. She also used three different asthma inhalers plus a nebulizer, all on different schedules. I'm half her age, and I couldn't keep that straight.

The more I learned about the risks inherent in taking a large number of prescription drugs, the more I saw how systemic the problem is. Seniors with five or more chronic health problems account for two-thirds of Medicare spending, yet doctors lack clear, evidence-based guidelines for coordinating their medications. A kind of head-in-sand ignorance is built into the system: Patients with multiple diseases are typically excluded from studies of a drug's safety and effectiveness, says Johns Hopkins geriatrician Cynthia Boyd, MD, MPH — and therefore are mostly ignored in the accepted guidelines that evolve from that research. "Every physician in the country is seeing these complex patients," she says, "but we have a long way to go in understanding how to integrate their care."

More on medication side effects | Alzheimer's disease

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