Swallowed by Mistake, Remembered for a Reason

What was I thinking? Clearly, I was not.

I was feeding my Pembroke Corgi, Watson—who’s quite certain he’s just as royal as the ones Queen Elizabeth kept—while half-listening to a podcast previewing the next day’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP) meeting.

The hosts were breaking down  backgrounds of the new appointees—handpicked by HHS Secretary RFK Jr.—whose past remarks ranged from scientifically shaky to bordering on conspiracy theory borderline. As I listened, I couldn’t help but wonder: What does this mean for the future of public trust in vaccines?

And that’s when it happened. Distracted by the commentary and sipping my iced coffee, I absentmindedly picked up Watson’s medication—half a regular-strength Tylenol for his 13.5-year-old corgi joints—and swallowed it myself.

No real harm done—I’ve got plenty of Tylenol in my own cabinet. But the moment stuck with me. Not because of the pill itself, but because it brought back a reminder of a serious moment in public health history involving Tylenol and the fragility of trust.

Trust in Medicine: Easy to Shake
In 1982, seven people in the Chicago area died after taking Tylenol capsules that had been laced with cyanide. The victims included 12-year-old Mary Kellerman, who died just hours after taking a capsule for a sore throat, and 27-year-old Adam Janus, who collapsed at home after using Tylenol for chest pain. His brother and sister-in-law, grieving at the hospital, also took Tylenol from the same bottle—and died shortly after.

The capsules had been tampered with after manufacturing—someone had opened the bottles, inserted poisoned pills, and returned them to store shelves. It was a chilling act of product sabotage that turned a trusted over-the-counter medication into a national source of fear.

The randomness of the deaths, the ordinariness of the product, and the suddenness of the poisonings shocked the nation. Parents threw away medicine. Stores cleared their shelves. Confidence in everyday products crumbled.

Restoring Trust
Johnson & Johnson’s response to the Tylenol crisis became a landmark example of corporate responsibility. Within days of confirming the link—despite not knowing where or how the tampering occurred—they halted all Tylenol production and advertising. They voluntarily recalled over 31 million bottles of Tylenol capsules across the U.S., worked closely with the  FDA and local officials, opened public hotlines, and offered to exchange capsules for safer tablets.

Perhaps the most lasting impact of the crisis came with their innovation in packaging. Johnson & Johnson reintroduced Tylenol just two months later—but now with tamper-evident safety seals, glued boxes, and foil liners inside the caps. These changes helped to restore public confidence over time and ultimately became the standard across the pharmaceutical and food industries.

A Harmless Mistake, A Serious Reminder
Swallowing Watson’s Tylenol wasn’t dangerous. But it made me pause. The next day, two colleagues shared their own stories of accidentally taking a family member’s medication. We laughed, but the takeaway was sobering: even small lapses in attention can lead to big consequences.

We’re not in 1982. But the lessons from that year still matter. Trust is the most important ingredient in medicine and public health.

That’s why the current reshuffling of ACIP is so concerning. When new appointees have publicly questioned vaccines or promoted pseudoscience, the perception of politicization is hard to ignore. Public trust is on the line.

We know that building trust takes time. Breaking it? Just one misstep. And without trust, even the best advice—or the safest, most effective  product—can go unused.

Or as Billy Joel once sang—“It’s always been a matter of trust.”

Happy reading,

Suzanne Daniels

Enjoy the weekend!

Best,
Suzanne
Suzanne Daniels, Ph.D.
AEPC President
P.O. Box 1416
Birmingham, MI 48012
Office: (248) 792-2187
Email: [email protected]