The writer took pills, changed her diet and learned to sleep differently. But only one change really stopped her symptoms.
A few years ago, watching the upbeat drug commercials on the evening news, with their recitations of dire side effects accompanied by breezy music, I saw an ad for something called the Purple Pill. It got my attention because the commercial never mentioned the name of the drug or the condition it was supposed to treat. The idea seemed to be that the people who needed this pill already knew what it was, as though they were members of an exclusive club.The drug, Nexium, treats acid reflux, and the club is far from exclusive. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was already a member, and so were at least half the women I knew. Apparently it’s not just your neck that starts to go slack after 50. Your lower esophageal sphincter, which may have seen you through many a pile of jalapeño nachos in your careless youth, becomes less adept at keeping your stomach contents where they belong. If that sphincter relaxes when it’s not supposed to, digestive acid backs up into your esophagus, where it can wreak several kinds of havoc. The medical name for this condition is GERD—gastroesophageal reflux disease—and the classic symptom is heartburn. I didn’t have heartburn. I was arrogant enough to believe that people bedeviled by that burning sensation were simply eating the wrong foods (fried, spicy, heavy) at the wrong time (right before bed), and I was way too nutritionally evolved for that.
So I was surprised, and annoyed, when an ear, nose and throat doctor told me he saw signs of mild acid reflux disease in my esophagus. As far as I knew, I had no symptoms. It didn’t occur to me that the times I woke up coughing and choking with what felt like bad postnasal drip were actually reflux episodes.
Not that I had many of those. Because, without realizing it, I’d gotten into the habit of taking Pepcid Complete practically every night. These chewable tablets contain both an ant-acid and a histamine blocker, so they’re more serious medicine than plain old Tums or Rolaids. I found myself reaching for them after meals I’d once been able to manage without difficulty. Pasta with pesto? Make it a Pepcid night. Alcohol? If I had half a glass of wine with dinner or a swallow or two of cognac before bed, I’d wake up with what was undeniably reflux: the sensation that I’d just thrown up in my mouth and swallowed again.
