MANILA — The Philippine medical establishment is watching the rise of quick-commerce health delivery with unease. A single case — Ratish Sharma ordering his blood pressure medication Telma 40 through an app — has crystallized a regulatory blind spot that doctors say has been growing for months. Sharma did not have a prescription.
The app’s in-house doctor called, asked his age and how long he had been taking the medicine. The order was approved in seconds.
Ten minutes later, the drug arrived at his door. The Philippine Medical Association has not issued a formal statement on the practice. But internal medicine specialists who spoke to Times Now Digital were blunt.
The checks, they said, are not checks at all. “A brief phone call cannot substitute for a physician’s evaluation,” one specialist said.
The list of risks is long. Kidney function, current medications, drug interactions — none of it can be assessed in a 30-second conversation. Telma 40 contains telmisartan, an angiotensin receptor blocker.
In patients with renal impairment or electrolyte imbalances, it can cause acute kidney injury. In pregnant women, it can cause fetal harm. The app’s verification call did not touch on any of these.
The Food and Drug Administration has existing regulations governing online sale of prescription drugs. These require a valid prescription to be submitted and verified before any medicine is dispensed.
The quick-commerce model does not appear to comply. The FDA has not announced any investigation into the platform Sharma used. It has not released guidance on whether an in-house doctor’s approval satisfies the requirement.
Doctors argue it does not. The legal definition of a prescription requires a physician-patient relationship.
That relationship involves a medical history, a physical exam, a diagnosis. A phone call from a platform-employed physician who has never met the patient and does not have access to their medical records is not a consultation. It is a rubber stamp.
The Department of Health has not commented on the specific case. Its existing telemedicine guidelines require that remote consultations be conducted by licensed physicians who maintain patient records. Whether the quick-commerce model meets that standard is unclear.
The guidelines were written for formal telemedicine providers, not for delivery apps that added a doctor function as an afterthought. For elderly patients and those with chronic illnesses, the convenience is real.
Visiting a pharmacy can be difficult. The apps fill a gap. But doctors say the gap should be filled properly — not by a system that treats prescription verification as a speed bump.
Sharma’s case is not isolated. The platform processed the order without a physical prescription.
It did not request laboratory results. It did not ask about allergies or other medications. It approved a drug for hypertension without confirming the patient actually had hypertension.
The medical community is waiting for a response. The FDA has the authority to inspect platforms and issue cease-and-desist orders. The Department of Health can issue clarifying regulations.
The Professional Regulation Commission can investigate whether the doctors employed by these platforms are practicing within ethical bounds. None of these bodies has acted.
Until they do, the system remains what Sharma’s case revealed it to be: a convenience that bypasses safeguards written into law. The safeguards exist for a reason. The question is whether regulators will enforce them before someone gets hurt.
