This ain’t your dad’s marijuana. At least it certainly ain’t my dad’s marijuana. This stuff I got is far more potent than anything I’ve ever had before. It doesn’t smell like it, it doesn’t taste like it, it doesn’t even look like it. When I opened the packet, I was met with a heady aroma, floral and sweet and spicy. Inside the packets were tight buds of pale olive green with strands of bright red woven through them. Definitely not the baggie of stems and seeds and shake that I grew up with.
I’ve written and rewritten this part of the story several times. After about two weeks of investigation and testing, I’m still not sure if it’s doing what I want it to. I was hoping for a slam-dunk, a “Wow, this stuff is amazing!” moment. I was hopeful that at the very least, it would ease the painful and random Charlie-horse leg cramps that keep me awake most nights, and maybe even help me get off the drugs I take for insomnia. I was hoping to be amazed.
What I’ve found is that in the two weeks that I’ve been smoking it before bed (and often again during the night), I’m having much less cramping. Not no cramping, but fewer episodes, and less intense. Nothing amazing, but it’s better. Nothing else I tried made a dent – not stretching, not medications, not “eat a banana before bed.” Cannabis has not eradicated this problem, but it is much better. I will need to go back to The Store to talk with the pot-istas and the experts, and see if we can fine-tune the product, but for now, I’m happy with the results. I’ve enjoyed doing the research and field testing – no hardship there.
In the meantime, I’ll just be holed up in my laboratory continuing my scientific investigations. Let’s hope The Man doesn’t get all up in our business.
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If you had told me back in the day I would walk into a nice clean store on Main Street, and legally buy marijuana, I would’ve told you that you’d been smoking too much of your own product. In a former lifetime, when I was a recreational user, the idea of pot being legal – in any sense of the word – was a George Carlin comedy routine. So, when I finally got to my local marijuana store, after acquiring the official state license ($150 and a phone call), it was a bit of a surreal experience. A little Twilight Zone-ian.
After passing through mildly tight security (they buzz you into the lobby from the street, and then into the actual store after showing your official marijuana card and a photo ID), I found myself in a retail space that felt like an upscale book store. I sat down in a side room with a nice young man (Jeff?) to go over the menu. We talked about my previous experience with marijuana, and as we talked all about the different strains, Indica versus Sativa, the various cookies, or “Medibles” (lemon crinkle, gingersnap and peanut butter chocolate chip), I waxed nostalgic about the olden days of buying who knew what kind of pot in a Ziploc baggie from a friend of a friend. “This is all different,” Jeff assured me, the cannabis (as they prefer to call it) is now all carefully grown and graded and cleaned and packaged. He helped me make my selections – 1g each of LA Confidential and M.O.B. – and released me to the sales floor.
There was a lounge area with a few tables and chairs and soft indirect lighting. Not a smoking room (no smoking of any kind!), like a Christian Science Reading Room. Separated by a bookshelf room divider, the other side of the room was where the actual business transactions took place. I waited in line for my number to be flashed up on the overhead display, just like waiting your turn at the deli counter. There was the “Everyday Value Menu” and the day’s specials. When my turn came, I stepped up to the counter and I gave my “Pot-ista,” my order. She came back with two hermetically sealed plastic packages with my very own medical marijuana in them. I paid (cash only as The Man does not allow credit card transactions for this particular product line), they put my cannabis in a little shopping bag, along with a glass pipe I purchased (one stop shopping!), and a folder with a copy of the menu and some other promotional materials.
And off I went! I had just made my first mostly legal (it’s still illegal according to federal law) purchase of medical marijuana. The kids back in 1976 would never believe this. Brave new world.
Stay tuned for my product review in Part 2.
You’ll never feel ill enough. There will always be a little voice in the back of your head whispering that you’re fine, really, you’d be okay if you only tried harder.
That little voice isn’t the voice of reason – it’s the voice of internalised ableism, and you owe it nothing.
Find someone who can help you. Apply for the benefits you need. Use the mobility aids that make your life easier. Give yourself a break.
You deserve it. You are ill enough. You aren’t faking it, you aren’t mooching. You’re surviving, and you deserve a round of applause.
Found on the blog “Kipple Kipple Everywhere.“
How nice to wake up in the morning (my favorite way to start the day) to find that my mind wasn’t racing off in anxiety driven confusion, my legs weren’t cramping, my arms weren’t numb, my back, or neck, or shoulders weren’t aching, and I didn’t have to get up RIGHT NOW to pee. I was actually able to lie back and close my eyes and breathe for an hour. A rare treat.
This sings me to sleep, and often plays on repeat all night. It is a comfort, somehow, to wake in the middle of the night and hear is softly playing in my ear. And to wake up with it repeating in my mind.
I’m not a New Year’s resolution kind of guy. As with most people, there are far too many broken resolutions littering my past. But I came across an interesting idea recently, which is to pick a word around which to frame the new year. I picked, “simplify.” In conjunction with my efforts at mindfulness, I might only apply “simplify” to this month, or even this day, or even the current moment. In whatever way, I will try to keep “simplify” as my byword as I move into 2017.
There’s only so much I can simplify, what with adaptive equipment, various therapies, medications, appointments, etc. Disability is complicated. Identifying things in my daily life that I can simplify is a mindfulness and simplification process in itself, a valuable exercise, if only in self-examination.
I hope that by moving from “resolution,” to “byword,” I will be more likely to stick to it. Isn’t this what Post-it notes are for?
If you were to pick one word to frame your new year around, what would it be?
I’ve been away from this blog for quite some time, dealing with some complicated shit. More about that later. But for now:
This is what I’ve been talking about. Ordinary people, doing ordinary things. Ordinary people who happen to be in wheelchairs, featured in commercials. Better they should be in mainstream TV shows and movies, but I’ll take what I can get.
- The wheelchairs are not the focus of the story, they’re not even important to the story. This little screenplay could have been acted out equally as powerfully were the actors not in wheelchairs.
- I love the fact that this drama shows people in wheelchairs being physical, active athletes, able to give and take on the court. I love the fact that this is not about people in wheelchairs. This is not about disability.
- I love the fact that it proves that wheelchair users are not “bound” to their chairs. Just as we are moving towards more inclusive “person first” language we have to move away from the image of people in wheelchairs being dependent and stuck or trapped. For these men, like for everybody else who uses a wheelchair, the chair is a vehicle for liberation.
- I love that the story empowers the men in the wheelchairs.
- I love the fact that the kids are fully included in the father’s life and accepting of his disability, perhaps not even seeing it anymore.
- I love the fact that Toyota stands aside, and can promote their message and their product (I still don’t know what model vehicle is being promoted, but, like the wheelchairs, it doesn’t matter.) without having to shout.
- I love seeing myself, or someone who looks like me, portrayed this way in a mainstream commercial. Perhaps only marginalized people will understand this. (A topic for a further and lengthy, discussion.)
In the end, what makes this a really great commercial is that the product (some sort of car, I think…) is only a vehicle (pardon the pun) for the drama of a group of men playing a very physical game of basketball, ending the day without holding grudges.
I hope this film can lead the way toward more fully inclusive roles for people with disabilities.
Did I mention that I love this little film? What do you think?