CKNW Editorial
for October 4, 2000

Every year we set aside a program for depression screening day. This is very much in cooperation with the home station which makes available a bank of ten phones operated by volunteers who will be fielding calls from those of you who feel the need of some help.

I am clinically depressed which means I suffer from depression as an illness, not just a sometime thing when I have a bad day or some bad things happening in my life. I was diagnosed about 12 years ago and I'll tell you the story which is not without its amusing side.

I woke up one morning with a pain in my right side under the rib cage. It continued and I decided that I had cancer of the liver ... a diagnosis I confirmed by consulting the Columbia Medical Encyclopedia. I was in a panic and went to see my doctor and insisted on waiting in his office all day long if that's what it took to get an answer. Just what I thought he could do on a moment's notice I don't know but as you will learn, rationality goes out the window with depression. My doctor examined me, assured me that it was highly unlikely I had anything wrong with my liver ... that it was more likely gallstones. I insisted it was cancer so he sent me for an ultra-sound examination. Every time the technician passed the camera over my right side she frowned and I was, of course, sure we was seeing a cancer and when the doctor came for a look and also frowned I demanded to be told that it was indeed cancer of the liver. I could take it, I said, which couldn't have been further from the truth. In a few moments the doctor had me lying on my side and, after warning me, gave me a karate chop to the right side.

"Did that hurt"?, he asked. "Not too much", I replied, "but I wouldn't want you to do it all day". He gave me another karate chop, looked at the screen and said "there, you had a gallstone lodged in the entrance to the gall bladder and I knocked it out. Your pain should go away." "You mean", I replied, :that all I needed was a bluddy chiropractor?"

I went back to my doctor but if anything my anxiety had increased. When the diagnosis of gallstones was confirmed I accused my doctor of lying to me. I knew I had liver cancer.

My doctor, out of the blue, asked my how ling it had been since my daughter had been killed. "What the hell has that got to do with liver cancer", I asked. And then the floodgates opened and I couldn't stop crying. My doctor, Mel Bruchet in North Vancouver then asked me a few more questions then, when I had calmed down a bit explained what depression was and what a depression manifesting itself in anxiety was all about. He prescribed some medicine and within a couple of weeks I had never felt better in my life.

Some years later, after an interview with an American psychiatrist of great note, I learned about a new medicine. I proposed to Mel that I change over to it. He strongly advised against it saying, in effect, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But I had rather extraordinary dreams as a side effect of the medicine I was using and insisted on changing. Mel reluctantly agreed. This meant that I had to go off all medication for a couple of weeks before slowly getting onto the new stuff so I picked a trip to London and Paris as the time to go off medication. At about day 3, Wendy and I took a walk in London ... it was a beautiful, warm autumn day but I couldn't stop shivering. I went into a Tie Rack and bought a scarf ... but it didn't help so I went into an Irish wool shop near Covent Garden and bought a sweater. I still couldn't stop shaking. We got back to the room and I was drenched in perspiration yet still couldn't stop trembling. Then I started to cry ... I bawled my eyes out ... and for the next three weeks went into protracted periods of shivering and sweating and crying in Wendy's arms. I don't know what would have happened if Wendy hadn't been there to look after me. It was, in the end, the best thing that had ever happened to me for I remembered that I was sick and I re-experienced that sickness in all its terror.

When I got home I went back to my old medication but, because I was in a very nasty law suit, it took several months before I got back on track. I now feel great and have for over two years.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because in doing a show on depression with Dr Teresa Hogarth a few years ago I took all these calls and heard the cries for help. Without really meaning to, I blurted out that I too was a depression patient and that there was help available. I wish I could tell you that I thought it all over and decided to go public but in fact I really accidentally "outed" myself. And I have spoken about it and written about it since and am damned glad of it. Because here are some things you should know.

About one quarter of the population suffers from depression with that being perhaps 2/3 to 1/3 male over female ... probably because little boys are taught not to cry. This will rise to about 50% within the next 25 years. Depression is at the bottom of many other problems including alcoholism, lost jobs and broken marriages. And the damnable thing is that in the vast majority of cases it is treatable to the point that the consumer can lead a normal life.

Why it is not treated?

For one thing, people are afraid of exposing themselves to the stigma society attaches to mental illness. This is by far the number one barrier. Secondly, often - though this is thankfully changing - many physicians don't know about depression. Sometimes it's just that they don't know ... sometimes they don't want to know often because there is no way under the Medical Services Plan they can get paid for the extra time it takes with a patient to make a proper diagnosis. And they should be properly paid ... this is something the government could do to help with the stroke of a pen. But my story is one of hope. Since I've been diagnosed I have maintained a daily talk show without missing a second's work. I have written up to three, even four columns a week in addition to the daily editorial I do on this program. I have written numerous op-ed pieces and made many radio and TV appearances. In addition to all this, I've written three books. I tell you this because I want people who need help to know that the help available is often tantamount to a cure.

Now as you will hear this morning, depression takes many forms - mine is anxiety but there are many others. But let me quickly tell you what it is and isn't. It is a real disease which may have psychological causes or physiological causes - often a combination of the two. It doesn't require drugs but medicines. I, for example, take pills because my pancreas doesn't produce enough insulin so that I'm a diabetic ... I take medicine because my body doesn't produce enough seratonin so I suffer from depression. Why should I be open about taking one medicine and embarrassed to admit taking the other.

What depression is not is a character flaw. It isn't the lack of manliness or British pluck.

The purpose of our show today is, of course, to help people suffering from depression. Perhaps even more importantly, it is to help everyone understand this insidious ailment because the odds are almost certain that someone in your immediate circle is suffering from depression. It may be your significant other who has become withdrawn or has started to drink too much. It may be a co-worker who is not longer punctual ... or has lost interest in the job ... or it may be a teenager who is suddenly withdrawn ... a potential teenage suicide, the most tragic of all depression outcomes. If, at the end of the morning, we've helped just a few, it will be worth it. We have, then, ten phones available, all manned by volunteers. If you need help ... or information perhaps to help a loved one ... the number to call is 250-8255 or, toll free from out of town, 1-888-533-8255. These are, of course, off air numbers and strictly confidential.