Strong Medicine (18 page)

application was withdrawn from the FDA. Canada, inexplicably, left the drug

on sale until March--four months later than the Australian withdrawal and

time for many more individuals, including pregnant women, to take it.

Celia and Andrew, who followed the grim story by reading scientific

publications as well as the regular press, discussed it frequently.

One night at dinner Celia said, "Oh, Andrew, how glad I am you wouldn't let

me take any drugs during pregnancy!" A few minutes earlier she had looked

with love and gratitude at their own two healthy, normal children. "I could

have taken Thalidomide. I hear there are doctors' wives who did."

Andrew said quietly, "I had some Kevadon myself

" You did?"

"I was given samples by a detail man."

Jolted, Celia said, "But you didn't use them?"

Andrew shook his head. "I'd like to say I had a suspicion about the drug,

but it wouldn't be true. I simply forgot they were there."

"Where are the samples now?"

"Today I remembered them. I pulled them out. There were several hundred

tablets. I read somewhere that more than two and a half million were

distributed to American doctors. I've flushed mine down the toilet."

"Thank God."

"I'll second that."

In the months that followed, more news about Thalidomide continued to flow

in. It was estimated that twenty thousand deformed babies were born in

twenty countries, though the exact number would never be known.

In the United States the number of phocomelia births was Iowan estimated

eighteen or nineteen-because the drug had never

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been approved for general use. Had it been approved, the number of armless

and legless American babies would probably have reached ten thousand.

"I guess we all owe a debt to that woman Kelsey," Andrew commented to

Celia on a Sunday in July 1962. He was at home, relaxing, a newspaper

spread out before him in the den they shared.

"Kelsey" was Dr. Frances Kelsey, an FDA medical officer who, despite

intense pressure from the drug firm which planned to market

Thalidomide-Kevadon, used bureaucratic tactics to delay it. Now,

declaring she'd had scientific reasons for doubting the drug's safety all

along, Dr. Kelsey was a national heroine. President Kennedy had awarded

her the President's Gold Medal for Distinguished Service, the country's

highest civilian decoration.

"As it turned out," Celia said, "what she did was right, and I agree

about being grateful. But there are some who say she got the medal for

doing nothing, just putting off making a decision, which is always the

safe thing for a bureaucrat to do, and now she's claiming to have had

more foresight than she really did. Also, it's feared that what Kennedy

has done will mean that in the future, good drugs that are truly needed

will be delayed by others at FDA who'd like a medal too."

"What you have to understand," Andrew said, "is that all politicians are

opportunists and Kennedy's no exception, nor is Kefauver. Both of them

are using the pubhcity about Thalidomide for their own advantage. Just

the same, we need some kind of new law because whatever else Thalidomide

did, it sure as hell showed that your industry, Celia, can't regulate

itself and that parts of it are rotten."

The remark was prompted by revelations, following investigations into the

drug firms responsible for Thalidomide, of duplicity, callousness, greed,

cover-up and incompetence, revelations that seemed to surface almost

daily.

Celia acknowledged sadly, "I wish I could argue with you. But no one in

their right mind could."

Surprisingly, and despite the political maneuvering that preceded it,

some good legislation did emerge and was signed into-law by President

Kennedy in October 1962. While far from perfect, and with provisions

which later would deny valuable new drugs to those in desperate need of

them, the new law provided consumer safeguards that had not existed

"B.T." which was how many in the

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drug industry would in future identify the era of "before Thalidomide."

Also in October the news reached Celia that Eli Camperdown, president and

CEO of Felding-Roth, who had been ill for several months, was dying. The

cause was cancer.

A few days after she heard, Sam Hawthorne summoned Celia to his office.

"Eli has sent a message. He would like to see you, He's been taken home

from the hospital and I've arranged for you to be driven there tomorrow."

The house was five miles southwest of Morristown at Mount Kemble Lake.

Located at the end of a long driveway and shielded from outside view by

trees and heavy shrubbery, it was large and old, with a frontage of

fieldstone which had weathered and taken on a green patina. From the

outside the interior looked dark. Inside, it was.

A stooped, elderly butler let Celia in. He led her to an ornate drawing

room furnished with heavy period pieces and asked her to wait. The house

was quiet, with no sounds of activity. Perhaps, Celia thought, it was

because Eli Camperdown lived alone; she knew he had been a widower for

many years.

In a few minutes a uniformed nurse appeared. In contrast to the

surroundings, she was young, pretty and brisk. "Will you please come with

me, Mrs. Jordan. Mr. Camperdown is expecting you."

As they climbed a wide, curving staircase with deep carpeting Celia

asked, "How is he?"

The nurse said matter-of-factly, "Very weak and in a good deal of pain,

though we use sedation to help him with that. Not today, though. He said

he wished to be alert." She looked at Celia curiously. "He's been looking

forward to your coming." Near the head of the staircase the nurse opened

a door and motioned Celia in.

At first Celia had difficulty in recognizing the gaunt figure propped up

by pillows in the large four-poster bed. Eli Camperdown, who not long

since had seemed the embodiment of strength and power, was now emaciated,

wan and fragile-a caricature of his former self. His eyes, sunk in their

sockets, regarded Celia as his face twisted in an attempt to smile. When

he spoke his voice was low and reedy. "I'm afraid advanced cancer isn't

pretty, Mrs. Jordan. I hesitated about letting you see me like this, but

there are things I wanted to say to you directly. I thank you for

coming."

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The nurse had brought a chair before leaving them alone and Celia sat in

it beside the bed. "I was glad to come, Mr. Camperdown. I'm just sorry

you are ill."

"Most of my senior people call me Eli. I'd be glad if you would do that."

She smiled, "And I'm Celia."

"Oh yes, I know. I also know you've been important to me, Celia." He

raised a frail hand and motioned to a table across the room. "There's a

Life magazine over there, some papers with it. Would you pass them to

me?"

She found the magazine and papers and brought them. With effort, Eli

Camperdown began leafing through the issue of Life until he found what

he was seeking.

"Perhaps you've seen this."

"The article about Thalidomide, with the photos of deformed babies? Yes,

I have."

He touched the other papers. "These are more reports and photographs;

sonic haven't reached the public yet. I've been following the case

closely. It's awful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it it."

They were silent, then he said, "Celia, you know I'm dying?"

She answered gently, "Yes, I know."

"I made the damn doctors tell me. I've a week or two, at best; perhaps

only days. It's why I had them bring me home. To finish here." As she

started to speak, he stopped her with a gesture. "No, hear me out."

He paused, resting. Clearly the effort made so far had tired him. Then

he went on.

"This is selfish, Celia. None of it will do those poor, innocent children

any good." His fingers touched the photos in the magazine. "But I'm glad

I'm dying without that on my conscience, and the reason I don't have it

there is you."

She protested, "Eli, I believe I know what you're thinking, but when I

suggested . . ."

He continued as if not hearing her. "When we at Felding-Roth had that

drug, we planned to push it hard. We believed it would be big. We were

going to test it widely, then pressure the FDA to pass it. Maybe it would

have passed. Our timing would have been different; there could have been

another examiner. There's not always logic to these things."

He paused again, mustering his strength and thoughts. "You per-

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suaded us to do the tests on old people; because of that, no one under

sixty took it. It didn't work. We dropped it. Afterward I know there was

criticism of you ... But if it had happened . . . the way we intended in

the beginning . . . then I'd have been responsible . . ." Again his

fingers found the photos in the magazine. "I'd have died with that

terrible thing upon me. As it is . . ."

Celia's eyes were misty. She took his hand and told him, "Eli, be at

peace."

He nodded and his lips moved. She leaned closer to hear what he was

saying. "Celia, I believe there is something you have: a gift, an

instinct, for judging what is right . . . Big changes are coming in our

business, changes I won't see . . . Some in our company believe you are

going far. That's good . . . So I'll give you some advice, my last advice

. . . Use your gift, Celia. Trust your good instincts. When you have

power, be strong to do what you believe . . . Don't let lesser people

dissuade you - . ."

His voice drifted off. A spasm of pain contorted his face.

Celia turned, aware of movement behind her. The young nurse had come into

the room quietly, She had a syringe on a tray which she put down beside

the bed. Her movements were efficient and quick. Leaning over her patient

she asked, "Is it pain again, Mr. Camperdown?" As he nodded feebly, she

rolled back the sleeve of his pajamas and injected the syringe's contents

into his arm. Almost at once his facial tension eased, his eyes closed.

"He'll drift now, Mrs. Jordan," the nurse said. "I'm afraid there isn't

much point in your staying." Again she regarded Celia curiously. "Did you

finish your talk? It seemed important to him."

Celia closed the Life magazine and put it, with the papers, back where

she had found it.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I think so."

Somehow-though not from Celia, who kept her own counsel-a report of her

encounter with Eli Camperdown filtered through the company. As a result

she found herself regarded with a mixture of curiosity, respect, and

occasionally awe. No one, including Celia, had any illusion that some

exceptional insight had prompted her suggestion five years earlier about

Felding-Roth's testing of Thalidomide, testing that turned out to be

unsuccessful. But the fact was, the route the company took had saved it

from what could have been disaster, and Celia's contribution to that

route was cause enough for gratitude.

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