The Art of Medicine by Herbert Ho Ping Kong

Author:Herbert Ho Ping Kong
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781770905665
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2014-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

A PATIENT’S PERSPECTIVE — Arthur G.

* * *

I was raised in a small town in Saskatchewan — population 800 people — halfway between Regina and Saskatoon. My family, the local entrepreneurs, ran the town’s hotel and restaurant, the movie theatre, the newspaper. My father died of pancreatitis at the age of 37. I was eight years old. My mother, as he was dying, was coming out of the hospital with my new baby sister.

I worked in the hotel growing up. I was encouraged to go to university, earned a degree in sociology and psychology at the University of Saskatchewan, went to Europe, got a teaching certificate in Alberta, taught elementary school there and then moved to Vancouver. By then I was married, but gay — and eventually I could not avoid coming to terms with that. My wife and I divorced, and I went to back to school to study marketing and corporate communications.

In 1983, I arrived in Toronto just as the AIDS crisis was gathering steam. But I did reasonably well as a producer of sales videos and corporate events. I am today 61. And I met Gilles, my partner, who’s in the corporate travel business. We’ve been together 23 years. We recently sold our house and moved into a condo because of my arthritis. Some days, I can barely walk.

I started drinking when I was 12, stealing liquor from my parents. A nip of this, a nip of that. In high school, bootleggers would buy beer or whatever for us and we’d drink at parties. University was party central and I could party with the best of them. I was not a troubled drunk. I held it very well. Later, when I joined the work force, I’d get home from work, and have a scotch or a few scotches. I just liked the taste. Booze was nice. It would loosen you up. But people would be surprised to know that I had a drinking problem. It wasn’t until the last 10 or 12 years that I recognized it. I knew I was drinking too much. My partner occasionally suggested I cut back. A manager at work once summoned me to her office; another colleague had mentioned I smelled of alcohol. I guess I was a functioning alcoholic.

The drink of choice for years was vodka. One drink to start and then free pour and mix. Then some wine with dinner, then smoke a joint. But apart from pot, coffee and alcohol, no other hard drugs. By the time I was diagnosed, I was close to the point where I needed to buy a bottle of vodka every two days.

I developed what I thought was a skin rash and went to see my GP. It looked like red pimples that were spreading. My GP gave me antifungal ointment, but that didn’t work, so I went back, because it was getting worse. So he sent me to see a dermatologist, Dr. Barbara Ho Ping Kong, who turned out to be Herbert’s wife.

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