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When I shared my experience taking Zepbound and losing 50 pounds in a recent column, I expected curiosity and perhaps a bit of controversy. What I did not anticipate was the sheer volume of people reaching out — not to argue, but to ask genuinely practical questions. Women across the country, most of whom hadn’t discussed GLP-1 medications with their doctors before, began messaging me to say they were scheduling appointments to talk about these treatments because of my column. Others wanted to know about side effects I experienced, how I managed insurance coverage, and how to go about obtaining a prescription for themselves.
The response made one thing clear: For many, learning about new medical options begins long before they see a practitioner. It often starts with exposure to information — sometimes through direct-to-consumer drug advertisements.
That reality stands in contrast to a recent New York Times piece examining pharmaceutical ads. The article raises familiar concerns about the influence of drug marketing, but the story’s ending unintentionally underscores why people seek out this information in the first place. The New York Times profiles Tamar Abrams, a woman who learned about Ozempic through media coverage, brought it up with her doctor, and ultimately lost 90 pounds after treatment. Because she asked the question, her physician referred her to an endocrinologist who determined she was an appropriate candidate. Today, she no longer needs blood pressure or cholesterol medications and enjoys a dramatically improved quality of life.
The piece closes with Abrams wondering: “If I hadn’t asked my new doctor about it, would she have suggested Ozempic? Or would I still weigh 270 pounds?”
This question gets to the heart of the issue. We often assume that doctors will automatically recommend the best treatments, but that assumption doesn’t reflect the reality of modern medical practice — especially in primary care.
A recent Free Press story illustrates this in stark terms. A woman went to a nurse practitioner complaining of pain, and she was told she had gout. When she later used ChatGPT to ask about her symptoms, the AI model provided a far more accurate explanation of her condition. It turned out that ChatGPT was more accurate than her rushed practitioner. None of this suggests that technology should replace clinicians — far from it — but it highlights how constrained and overburdened many practitioners are, and how patients increasingly must come to appointments with their own informed context.
Doctors are tasked with seeing more patients than time comfortably allows, navigating insurance protocols, and trying to address complex problems in often 10- to 15-minute appointments. In that environment, physicians may not always introduce every possible treatment option. It’s the reality of a system where time is scarce and complexity is high. Patients who come prepared, with knowledge of emerging therapies such as GLP-1s, for example, are not undermining the medical profession. They are helping to make the most of limited interaction time with their practitioner.
That is where direct-to-consumer drug advertising plays an unexpected, yet important, role. When people encounter information about a drug such as Zepbound or Ozempic, they are often motivated not to self-prescribe, but to consult a medical professional. According to an AMAC poll, nearly 1 in 3 people say a drug commercial prompted them to ask a doctor about a medication or treatment. Fifty-four percent report that they are not confident doctors discuss the full range of treatment options with them — another driving force behind patient-initiated inquiries.
Seventy-three percent of respondents oppose the government deciding what commercials they are allowed to see, and 64% say they don’t have confidence in the government as a source of information about medical treatments and vaccines. Interestingly, people say they trust television drug ads more than social media — likely because television advertisements are already heavily regulated, whereas social media messaging goes unverified.
People want access to as much information as possible so they can engage more meaningfully in their own healthcare. This is not blind trust in pharmaceutical companies — it is a healthy desire for information in a complex and rushed medical system.
And there is empirical evidence that this access does real good. Surveys show that direct-to-consumer ads increase awareness of treatment options and prompt patients to ask more informed questions during clinical visits. A Food and Drug Administration review concluded that advertising can enhance information-seeking behavior. A study of cholesterol-lowering drug advertising found that it led to more newly diagnosed patients visiting physicians and increased requests for appropriate treatment. Other research indicates that exposure to medication information can improve adherence, reminding patients to fill and continue necessary prescriptions.
All of this suggests that drug ads are not merely commercials — they are catalysts for engagement.
Of course, critics are right to scrutinize pharmaceutical marketing — healthy skepticism is a necessary part of a functioning democracy. But skepticism, or even distrust of the industry, is not a justification for restricting the flow of medical information.
If anything, restrictions on drug advertisements would likely drive patients to even less accountable sources. When people are curious about medical options, they turn to search engines, social media influencers, online forums, and AI tools. None of those sources is subject to the rigorous risk-disclosure standards required of broadcast advertisements.
Abrams did not self-diagnose or self-prescribe. She asked her doctor a question — a question she could only have asked because she was exposed to information about a treatment she didn’t know existed. Her doctor, acting within his professional judgment, addressed it appropriately. That is exactly how informed, collaborative medical decision-making should work.
When I wrote about Zepbound, I was explicit about the side effects and made clear that this medication is not right for everyone. As a reminder, my Instagram stories are far less regulated than a drug commercial, and yet, I have heard from women who are now walking into appointments with a clear, informed question: “Is this an option for me?” because of what I wrote.
We can distrust pharmaceutical companies and still trust individuals. We can question advertising practices and still defend access to regulated, transparent information. And we can acknowledge the limitations of our medical system, where rushed appointments and constrained time make self-education a practical necessity, without abandoning the relationships that make quality care possible.
The question isn’t whether patients should encounter information about medications. The question is whether we trust patients to take that information to their doctors, ask relevant questions, and work collaboratively to determine the best path forward.
When that process leads to healthier outcomes — when someone loses weight, reduces cardiovascular risk, or regains mobility they thought was lost — it seems clear that access to information was part of the solution, not the problem.
TRUMP CLOSED THE GAP ON RHETORIC AND ACTION ON IRAN
Empowering patients isn’t just smart healthcare. It’s respectful of the fact that, in 2026, patients are informed, engaged, and ready to take responsibility for their own health conversations.
And that is something worth defending.
