An entire new lexicon has come to light over the past ten years. Do you recognize the following words?
Saxaglyptin
Desvenlafaxine
Bevacuzumab
Ibandronate
Tadalafil
Atorvastatin
Terbenafine
Esomeprazole
They may look like the list of words for the next National Spelling Bee (and perhaps they are) but in fact, they're all drug names, or more properly, chemical compounds. Even in the 1950s we would occasionally hear a few such terms: acetosalicylic acid, for example, or ibuprofen, which came along slightly later.
But as drug manufacturers have introduced more and more new medicines, we've all seen the trend toward advertising them to the public, too -- "ask your doctor if [product name] is right for you!" And those ads almost always specify the name of the actual drug, as well as the brand name.
For the linguist, songwriter, or poet, these new words represent an untapped reservoir of material. Certain ones spark odd associations, or conjure up wondrous images. For example:
Fluoxetine. It sounds as if it might describe a rheumy-eyed bovine with muscle pain and mild nausea. Let's hope they don't use the fluox's tissues to grow the medicine in.
Onglyza. That's a brand name, not a chemical name, but for me it raises the image of a big fat slug. Or, if slugs have names and engage in races, maybe slug spectators on the sidelines shout out "On, Glyza!" or "C'mon Slymeristin!"
Clopidogrel. This is one of the earliest of these I noticed. I believe it refers to bad poetry written by a horse. But the very best I have found is:
Rosiglitazone. Wow. Makes you think of shimmery pink things, or some hazy nirvana-like state. Sixties druggie to his pal: "Whoa, man, why'd you go and wake me up? I was just reachin' the rosiglitazone! Bummer!" Or a wonderful pinkish, sparkly skyline, maybe with a unicorn standing in the foreground.
We should thank Big Pharma for making life so interesting.