Terry Prone: State must apologise and properly compensate Thalidomide victims

Thalidomide survivor Maggie Woods lays a white rose outside the Dáil last year to mark the 60th anniversary of the international withdrawal of Thalidomide in November 1961 when evidence of its catastrophic damage could no longer be ignored.

Say it out loud. Nay, whisper it low. Because whispering gives the inspired brand name its full comforting resonance. Softenon. The sweet sibilance of it. You’d know it would be gentle in its says, soothing your nausea, wrapping you softly around in much-needed sleep. Softenon. So harmless, although your GP would happily prescribe it for you, they wouldn’t need to. Just turn up at the local pharmacy and it was yours for the asking. Something to ease your pregnancy.

Maybe revisit that word “harmless”. Because, while the pill was doing exactly what you were told it would do, it had a hidden agenda, did Softenon. If taken on week 10 of your pregnancy, it would do one kind of damage. Taken on week 15, it would do a quite different kind of damage. You pay your money, you take your choice. Except that it was an unseen, unknown choice. Even if you took one single pill — one single Softenon — depending on when you took it, the baby inside you would suffer horrendous damage to its internal organs. Or be unable to develop legs. Or grow only tiny vestiges of arms. You wouldn’t know that until your baby was born and the medics took it away. To be monitored. To be examined.