Traditional Chinese medicine did nothing for my psoriasis. But it was my mother’s love language

This First Person article was written by Kerry Yang, a first-year medical student in Calgary. For more information about First Person Stories, see the FAQ.

When plaques started appearing on my knees in first grade, my mother thought it was because of all the kneeling I did on the carpet while reading.

‘Aiyah! You have to stop kneeling,” she said to me in Mandarin. “It’s bad for your knees.”

Soon I was the only one in my class and it was isolating, but I trusted her.

It wasn’t the first time her well-intentioned advice did more harm than good.

As the months passed, my plaques became thicker, redder, flakier and, worst of all, itchier. They also started appearing on my elbows and my mother took me to a doctor.

“It’s something called psoriasis,” the doctor told us. “You can’t cure it. It’s lifelong. You can only control it.”

My mother stood up in disbelief. “What do you mean it can’t be cured?”

The doctor tried to explain: the psoriasis is because my immune system is overactive and causes inflammation that causes skin cells to multiply too quickly.

But my mother cut it off.

“What’s the point of medicine if you can’t cure something?”

From then on the conversation went downhill. Finally the doctor prescribed hydrocortisone cream (a weak steroid drug) and told us to come back if it didn’t improve.

The cream didn’t help. My mother took this as confirmation that Western medicine was not working and decided that I should use Chinese herbs for my psoriasis.

My mother and I have a complex relationship. It doesn’t come close to the way some of my Canadian peers experience closeness. She values ​​independence, so even when she was home from her rotations in the oil sands, my sister and I would walk home from school. I watched with jealousy as our classmates were arrested.

She tried to make us strong and offer us a better life. However, I started to resent the fact that in most of our conversations she gave advice about how something was bad for me. Again.

But she was committed to curing my psoriasis. Over the years, she has spent thousands of dollars purchasing various herbal treatments. I’ve tried creams, lotions and teas, but all they did was cover my plaques with harsh, brown substances and leave a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

I was fortunate that my psoriasis was relatively mild. Still, it bothered me. Other children avoided coming close to me and some parents physically pulled their children away. I didn’t want to wear T-shirts or shorts, and it got worse when my scalp started flaking. I learned to develop a thick skin – also figuratively – to deal with it.

Last year I started medical school at the University of Calgary. Psoriasis came up in a lecture and I learned how effective its treatments, including corticosteroids, can be. Intrigued, I decided to give the steroids another chance and was prescribed one of the strongest available.

It worked. Within weeks, my plaques looked almost like normal skin. Years of shame, healed, with a little spray.

I told my mother, but she didn’t believe me. She said the corticosteroid spray only cleared my skin and that it was the Chinese herbal treatments that cleared the blood stasis that was causing my psoriasis.

I felt frustrated, but I dropped it. Like her Chinese zodiac sign, the Horse, she is stubborn, and I knew arguing was pointless. Instead, I put my herbal products away and never wanted to see them again.

When I sprayed my knee before going to bed one night, something changed. As the white flakes melted away, I realized that all the money and time I spent on Chinese herbs wasn’t just to cure my psoriasis. It was my mother’s way of showing love. I watched my anger fade away with the flakes.

I think Chinese traditional medicine has value. It is a system of medical knowledge that has been built up over millennia. The holistic focus on all aspects of health, such as nutrition and physical activity, can complement conventional medicine. Some practices, such as using acupuncture for back pain, have proven effective.

But my mother’s blind faith was a bit much.

Ultimately, I discovered that for me these herbs were not medicine for my skin, but for my heart. I’ve never heard my mother say it w| ai n| (I love you). It’s just not part of our culture. But I don’t need her to say those words to know that she loves me.

She spent hours trying to find a cure for an incurable disease for me; she asked every friend and every friend of a friend for new herbal remedies. And every time she calls me, the first thing she asks is if my psoriasis has improved.

The herbs were my mother’s way of showing love. And despite everything I went through growing up, I will always be grateful for that.

Tell your story

As part of our ongoing partnership with the Calgary Public Library, CBC Calgary is hosting in-person writing workshops to support community members in telling their own stories. This piece came from a workshop at the Forest Lawn library in east Calgary.

Check out our workshops at cbc.ca/tellingyourstory and read more stories from these workshops below.