We have written before about the Taxotere eye injury MDL — and we wish we could say things were getting better. They are not.
Last December, we noted the fundamental absurdity at the heart of this litigation. Cancer patients — many of them breast cancer patients — were given Taxotere, a chemotherapy drug. The label warned that excessive tearing “may be attributable to lacrimal duct obstruction.” Plaintiffs’ lawyers, never ones to let adequate warnings stand in the way of a good MDL, decided that was not good enough. They wanted the label to say the tearing may be caused by “stenosis of the nasolacrimal drainage system.” And so we have, as we put it before, thousands of lawsuits, nearly a decade of litigation, and only the lawyers reaping anything other than minimal benefit.
Now the same MDL court has denied the defendant’s motion for summary judgment on warning adequacy. In re Taxotere (Docetaxel) Eye Injury Products Liability Litigation, 2026 WL 1839097 (E.D. La. June 25, 2026). The court managed to find genuine disputes of material fact lurking in what is, at bottom, a series of complaints that could be described as the medical terminology equivalent of arguing about whether a “hot dog” is a “sandwich.” The court did not even bother to apply the law of any particular state, applying instead a kind of generalized, multi-jurisdictional soup of failure-to-warn principles. The result is a roadmap for how to nitpick a warning to death.
Let us count the ways plaintiffs were permitted to pick apart an otherwise adequate warning.
Number 1. The label warned of “lacrimal duct obstruction.” Plaintiffs argued it should have said “nasolacrimal drainage system.” The defendant’s regulatory expert opined there was no material distinction between the two — that “nasolacrimal” and “lacrimal” do not “inherently change the characterization of the condition or impart additional or more useful information for the prescriber.” Id. at *5. On the other side, one of plaintiffs’ experts opined that “lacrimal duct obstruction is not terminology he uses in his practice.” Id. He didn’t say he didn’t understand the term, just that he personally does not use it. The court found a jury question. We find an eye roll.
Number 2. The defendant pointed to Stedman’s Medical Dictionary, which defines “obstruction” as a “blockage or clogging, e.g., by occlusion or stenosis.” Id. at *4. Stenosis, in other words, is one of the things that causes obstruction. Obstruction is the thing the label warned about. So the label warned about the thing caused by the thing plaintiffs say should have been mentioned. Plaintiffs countered with a different edition of the same dictionary that defines stenosis as a “narrowing” and cautions not to confuse it with “occlusion.” Id. The court found a jury question. We find it hard to keep a straight face.
Number 3. The label did not specifically say the condition could become permanent. Plaintiffs say it should have. To compound matters, the label noted that certain visual disturbances were “reversible upon discontinuation of infusion.” Defendant argued, correctly, that this referred to the immediately preceding sentence about transient visual disturbances during infusion — not to lacrimal duct obstruction, which appeared several sentences earlier. The court disagreed. Viewing everything in the light most favorable to plaintiffs, the court found a jury could conclude the label misleadingly implied the tearing risk was also reversible. Id. at *6.
Number 4. Plaintiffs’ expert opined the label should have warned physicians to promptly refer patients to an ophthalmologist upon signs of excessive tearing and mentioned the potential need for surgical intervention. This, as we have noted before, is the pharmaceutical equivalent of requiring a car manufacturer to tell drivers how to parallel park. Labels are not required to instruct physicians on how to practice medicine. The court acknowledged that manufacturers generally need not instruct physicians how to manage disclosed side effects, but found this wasn’t necessarily a “management instruction” and again found a jury question. Id. at *6.
And number 5. On top of all of that, plaintiffs’ expert opined the warning should have appeared in the “Warnings and Precautions” section rather than in the “Adverse Reactions” section. The court let that theory survive too. Id. at *7. This, again, is a theory we have seen before and continue to find unpersuasive — especially for a risk that is, let’s remember, associated with a chemotherapy drug being given to cancer patients.
Before getting to the merits of the warning claims, the court noted something worth flagging: it wasn’t going to apply the law of any particular state. Plaintiffs didn’t argue for an individualized choice-of-law analysis, and the court was apparently content to proceed under a generalized “common principles” approach. Id. at *4.
In an MDL involving thousands of plaintiffs from dozens of states, that is a curious thing. The whole point of Erie is that federal courts sitting in diversity apply state law — not a blended smoothie of principles that happen to be shared by most states. Different states have different standards for warning adequacy. Some apply the learned intermediary doctrine more rigorously; some have statutory presumptions; some are more forgiving of general warnings; some require specific causal language. A ruling that deliberately declines to engage with any of that is a ruling built on a foundation that can shift at any moment — which is bad for everyone, including plaintiffs, though they may not see it that way right now.
Even setting aside all of the above, we are compelled to return to the point we made in December, because it has not gotten any less true: these plaintiffs still have to prove warnings causation.
Under the learned intermediary doctrine — which the court acknowledges applies here — adequacy is measured by whether the prescribing physician would have reasonably understood the risk. Id. at *3. And even if the jury somehow finds the warning inadequate, each plaintiff must then show that a different warning would have changed her oncologist’s prescribing decision.
So. How many oncologists are going to take the stand and testify: “Yes, I would not have prescribed potentially life-saving chemotherapy to this very sick cancer patient had I only been formally instructed that the excessive tearing due to duct obstruction was because of stenosis of the nasolacrimal drainage system, and that I should refer to an ophthalmologist promptly”?
In a non-insane world, this should be something very difficult to prove. Oncologists treat cancer. They weigh the risks of chemotherapy — real risks, like neutropenia, neuropathy, and secondary malignancies — against the risk of dying from cancer. The suggestion that the difference between “lacrimal duct obstruction” and “stenosis of the nasolacrimal drainage system” would have led any oncologist to withhold chemotherapy from a cancer patient strains credulity past the breaking point.
But here we are. Thousands of cases. Nearly a decade. And counting.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, this MDL court seems to see beauty in every alleged gap in a warning label — no matter how fine the distinction, no matter how unlikely it would have changed anything, and no matter what state’s law is supposed to govern.





