04/02/2026 Rod Tomczak, DPM, MD, EdD
Everyone Has a Drug of Choice
I wasn’t sure how to start this letter, then I
decided to begin the way I’ve started thousands of
other meetings, with a stammer in my voice and
say, “My name is Rod Tomczak ( I choose to use my
last name) and I’m an addict and an alcoholic and
I last used 20 years ago.” Verbalizing the self-
diagnosis gets easier after the first five years
or so.
Everyone, and I mean everyone has a drug of
choice. For some people it’s not alcohol or a
controlled substance. It might be gambling,
plastic surgery, shopping, golf, eating, sex,
money, work, power, working out, the Internet, or
watching TV. It’s something that too much throws
your life out of balance. For the longest time, I
told people my drug was Absolut. I was absolutely
wrong, but I did put it before my family.
In August of 1999, I broke out in eczematous
lesions all over my trunk and extremities like I
had rolled in poison ivy. My face and hands were
spared. The itching was unbearable and I scratched
until the lesions bled. Wearing good clothes was
virtually impossible because I would bleed
through, but my hands and face never broke out. In
late 2000, I was diagnosed with a respiratory
latex allergy after 25 years in the operating
room. My latex antibodies were 35 times normal.
This couldn’t be fixed with my own latex-free,
terminally cleaned OR. The latex was in the air in
the hospital, worse in the OR and unless the
facility was latex-free from its opening, it would
take 10 years for the atmosphere to become latex-
free once all latex materials were replaced with
latex-free products.
I turned 52 in the year 2000 and was not willing
to go on disability. I used a bottle of Celestone
IM almost every week to try and control the
symptoms. After the second anaphylactic reaction
in the OR, Ohio State told me they couldn’t
provide anesthesia for me anymore. I gained 50
pounds from the Celestone and still had a chronic
wheeze, and lesions. Ohio State had my disability
policies activated before the last day on the job.
When I went on disability, it got ugly. I suffered
my first real hangover at age 52 but that did not
deter further drinking. I developed tolerance
quickly. I had my first AM drink September 11
using the tragedy as an excuse. Soon I was getting
up at 3:00 AM to have a large drink, then get up
in the morning to a water glass of vodka. Before
long, I was trying to swallow faster than throwing
up to get rid of the shakes which were so bad, I
needed to hold the half gallon bottle with two
hands to pour a drink which I drank through a
straw so I wouldn’t spill half the glass.
I went to rehab the first time on April Fools’ Day
2002, the first of 284 rehab or detox in- patient
over nights until December 4, 2005. On or about
12/06/05, a guy in a white came to visit me in my
last detox. I’d been through this 18 times
previously. It had always been the same script,
and he would leave me with a “Big Book” and the
“12 and 12” book when he left. But this was
different.
He asked me what my drug of choice was and I
answered as I had a million times previously,
“Vodka.” “Bull****” he said. “You’re lying.” We
played this game a few times when I finally
answered, “OK, you’re so f***ing smart, you tell
me what my drug of choice is.” He answered, “Foot
surgery, podiatry.” Silence. Then I asked in a
rather vulgar way, I think, how he knew that. And
then he answered, “Because I’m you.” There seemed
to be a 9-month pregnant pause of silence.
They may have been treating me with LSD or
psylocibin, but I swear all this happened. He
said, “Let me explain. I was a young stud just out
of my general surgery trauma fellowship and I
loved it. I would take call 3 or 4 nights in a
row. Other guys loved it when I took their call,
even knowing it was illegal. I was getting no
sleep, I developed atrial fibrillation, had a
stroke, and could not rehabilitate my dominant
hand. My career was over and I did just what you
did, try to find the answer in the bottom of the
vodka bottle. When I got sober, I was young enough
to do a psychiatry residency with an addiction
fellowship, something you can’t do. So, this is
what I do now, specializing in physicians who lose
their careers and turn to the bottle.”
“So now what ?” I asked. He said, “You understand
podiatry is your drug of choice and you replaced
it with alcohol when you couldn’t practice
anymore. We need to find you another career that
you can love and you can devote yourself to. I see
you have a doctorate in medical education, a
rarity for a practicing surgeon. Do you think you
can dedicate yourself to that? He said people
told him he’s not a surgeon anymore and he should
stick to psychiatry, and they will say the same to
you, but remember, you have 25 years in the OR and
their education experience is nowhere near yours.
Tell them to stick to the OR. After that
encounter, I never had another desire to drink,
but, to be in the OR, Yes, I did have a traffic
violation that needed a court appearance. I do
have drinking dreams, but more OR dreams.
The judge in court was with one guy in the
courtroom sitting in the back. The judge said to
me, “You’re not an alcoholic. I’ve been on this
bench 25 years and you are different than anyone
I’ve ever had in front of me.” We talked a bit
then he asked me what I was going to do with my
life and I told him I had thought about law
school. He told me this was my lucky day since the
gentleman in the back of the court room was an
associate dean and in charge of disability
students at Ohio State Law School and I had just
had my interview and was pretty sure I was
accepted.
Then he asked me if I would do him a favor. He
said that professionals who go away for a DUI
weekend spend it in the infirmary watching
television. He asked if I would mind spending the
weekend in general population and then come back
to see him. I did and I did. He wondered if I
still wanted to go to law school. I told him I
thought I should stay in podiatry and he said,
“Good choice, they’re lucky to have you.”
For the next 12 years or so, I spent my time
between the Caribbean, Saudi Arabia, and getting a
shoulder, both hips and my left knee replaced. I
still needed my right knee replaced which I did
then COVID hit hardest. My knee got infected and
since late 2020. I have been relegated to a
LazyBoy. It’s ironic since the inventor of LazyBoy
was a patient of mine in the late 1970s before I
went to Des Moines to teach at the podiatry school
for 10 years. I became a full professor and chair
of the surgical review committee and university
(DO, DPM, DPT) curriculum committees. I went to
Ohio State University where I was a full-time
faculty member and chairman of the MD Curriculum
Committee, started a 3-year podiatry residency, a
member of ACGME and vice president of Ohio State
University Department of Orthopaedics, and a
member of the trauma committee. I was the only
podiatrist for the 30,000 faculty, staff and their
families as a DPM. As a DPM, not an MD or DO.
So how does all this fit into addiction? I went to
a lot of meetings and have many sponsees, DPM, MD,
RNs, etc. A sponsee is a person who is sponsored,
most commonly referring to someone in 12-Step
recovery programs (like AA or NA) receiving
guidance from a mentor. Modern theories tell us
there is usually a sentinel occurrence that wipes
away the addict’s self-esteem. It is a form of
abuse. For me it was the loss of the ability to
practice podiatry at Ohio State in the OR or
clinic and I couldn’t handle it. This leads to
modern theories of recovery.
I have been pretty successful with my sponsees,
but several months ago I delivered the eulogy for
the former administrator of the orthopedic
department at OSU. She was 24 when she finished
her MBA and Masters of HCA from Xavier University.
She relapsed when home alone, ruptured her
esophageal varices, and bled out. Her Labrador
Retriever remained by her side for the 3 days it
took to find her. I delivered the eulogy from a
wheelchair, where I’m confined when I leave the
house. I broke down during the eulogy. She was
addicted to her job and used red wine to cope with
the stress.
New addiction theorists tell patients they need to
go away to a safe place and get sober, figure out
why they have to drink or use, then fix it.
Sometimes the old 12-step program isn’t necessary,
but to those people who fight their addiction
every day and go to 15 meetings a week, there is
no other way to get sober. It’s easier to go to
all those meetings than practice introspection.
Some of us remember the old poster of the cat
hanging by its claws from the wall with the
caption, “Just hang in there, Baby.” They don’t
drink, claim to be clean and use themselves or an
elite few as examples as to why the old method
works and shouldn’t be changed. Are they
healthy, are they sober and are they happy?
Younger generations tend to gravitate toward
fixing the incident that ravaged their self-esteem
and come to terms with it.
Biff Kramer told me in the 1980s I’d become an
alcoholic the first time he met me. It wasn’t
because I loved podiatry, but because I loved it
too much to the detriment of a healthy balance.
It’s like now, I have no opinion about alcohol,
good or bad until it becomes more important than
other things which should be crucial in your life.
I thought I was the happiest when I devoted 65
hours a week to podiatry and the university
setting. My first OSU contract said a minimum of
50 hours a week. Both daughters told me they did
not want that lifestyle so they opted for other
health professions. But is that what it takes to
be successful in our profession and once we have
achieved and are addicted to it, what happens when
we lose it? Do DPMs have to work harder, go to 15
meetings a week to get to the University of
Alabama or Georgetown? Is it worth it? Once you
get addicted to elevated self-esteem, what happens
if you lose it?
Rod Tomczak, DPM, MD, EdD, Columbus, OH
