Posts
Peggy
gets frequent migraines, and marijuana helps migraines, but Peggy has been
unwilling to use marijuana because she's a nurse, and nurses get into big
trouble if they’re caught doing illegal drugs. Twelve hours after Peggy
retired, she got a migraine and asked me for some marijuana. I rarely use it anymore
because its effect on me had gotten way too weird, but I still have some
marijuana cookies on hand along with a few buds. I’m proud to say that
I made these cookie, and although they’re small, one-quarter is enough to
put me at risk for hallucinations, so I only gave Peggy a crumb about the size
of 1/24th of one cookie, and that was enough to make her migraine go away
completely. She didn’t get high, but she hadn’t asked to get high, and I would
never presume to trick someone into taking a bigger dose of a drug than they
asked for, and I especially wouldn’t do it to Peggy because she’s afraid of
becoming insane like a few others in her family. I would even say that she’s really
afraid. The following is from my journal for October 2, 2000:
“Peggy and I were staying at a motel on the coast a few years ago. It was dark, and she was looking out over the ocean while I was in the bathroom. Suddenly she yelled, “Come quickly and see the pretty lights on the water.” I went quickly, but the lights had disappeared. The same thing happened a second time, and then a third. At that point, Peggy looked at me with an expression of fear and resignation and said, ‘I am losing my mind.’ I laughed, but she said she wasn’t joking. I decided to postpone whatever it was that I was doing in the bathroom and stay with her until the lights could be explained. It turned out that the moon, which was out of sight behind the motel, was coming and going behind some clouds and creating a truly beautiful light display upon the breaking waves.”
While on drugs, I’ve had hallucinations of demons, heavy metal music coming from toilets, my body levitating, angels flying above my head, and so forth without ever once thinking that I was going insane. Even so, I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to give Peggy a whopping dose of marijuana simply because Peggy has often said, “I don’t believe pot would get me high,” as if she's a bad-ass and I'm some kind of a wimp. As it was, we did take a hit together about an hour after she ate her cookie crumb, and while the hit got me completely wasted, it did nothing for her beyond the usual first-timer coughing fit. This in no way diminished my complete confidence that enough marijuana would land anybody on her ass.
All this occurred two days before I was to to go to the hospital—the one from which Peggy just retired—for my colonoscopy, and she was to be my designated driver. Ninety minutes before we’re to leave, she gets another migraine, and I give her another cookie crumb. I think it might it might be a little bigger than the first crumb, but since she didn’t get high off the first crumb plus a hit, I’m not too worried, forgetting that it’s not unusual for a person to not get high the first time they use pot. So, Peggy eats her crumb; her migraine goes away; and we leave for the hospital with her driving. Six blocks from home on a street she’s driven thousands of times over the last quarter of a century, Peggy says fearfully, “I have no idea where I am.” “Okie doakie, Peggy, maybe you should pull over and let me drive,” and we trade places. For her next trick, Peggy announces that there’s a cat in the car, but the cat turns out to be her purse.
“Peggy and I were staying at a motel on the coast a few years ago. It was dark, and she was looking out over the ocean while I was in the bathroom. Suddenly she yelled, “Come quickly and see the pretty lights on the water.” I went quickly, but the lights had disappeared. The same thing happened a second time, and then a third. At that point, Peggy looked at me with an expression of fear and resignation and said, ‘I am losing my mind.’ I laughed, but she said she wasn’t joking. I decided to postpone whatever it was that I was doing in the bathroom and stay with her until the lights could be explained. It turned out that the moon, which was out of sight behind the motel, was coming and going behind some clouds and creating a truly beautiful light display upon the breaking waves.”
While on drugs, I’ve had hallucinations of demons, heavy metal music coming from toilets, my body levitating, angels flying above my head, and so forth without ever once thinking that I was going insane. Even so, I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to give Peggy a whopping dose of marijuana simply because Peggy has often said, “I don’t believe pot would get me high,” as if she's a bad-ass and I'm some kind of a wimp. As it was, we did take a hit together about an hour after she ate her cookie crumb, and while the hit got me completely wasted, it did nothing for her beyond the usual first-timer coughing fit. This in no way diminished my complete confidence that enough marijuana would land anybody on her ass.
All this occurred two days before I was to to go to the hospital—the one from which Peggy just retired—for my colonoscopy, and she was to be my designated driver. Ninety minutes before we’re to leave, she gets another migraine, and I give her another cookie crumb. I think it might it might be a little bigger than the first crumb, but since she didn’t get high off the first crumb plus a hit, I’m not too worried, forgetting that it’s not unusual for a person to not get high the first time they use pot. So, Peggy eats her crumb; her migraine goes away; and we leave for the hospital with her driving. Six blocks from home on a street she’s driven thousands of times over the last quarter of a century, Peggy says fearfully, “I have no idea where I am.” “Okie doakie, Peggy, maybe you should pull over and let me drive,” and we trade places. For her next trick, Peggy announces that there’s a cat in the car, but the cat turns out to be her purse.
So, here we are on our way to the hospital with me wondering how we’re going to
get home, and whether Peggy is going to run amuck while I’m having my
colonoscopy. I think it might be fun to scream, “Oh, my god, you’re losing your
mind! You’re going to be just like your mother,” but then I realize how
inconvenient for me it would be if she became hysterical, so I decide against it. I do
suggest that, while I’m having my colonoscopy, she go visit her old buddies in
labor and delivery and tell them how much she’s enjoying retirement.
By the time we reach the hospital, we're running a little late, so Peggy offers to park the car while I go in. “Are you sure?”
I ask, and she says she is, so I let her, but not without trepidation, knowing
as I do how fast a person’s perceptions and abilities can change while
tripping. After an appropriate amount of time, Peggy joins me and purports
herself normally (that is if you count cringing visibly when a brand new nurse fails twice to start my IV), although she says she’s high. I’m impressed because for much of my life, I found it impossible to act straight when I was high, and if I
tried, I would tremble, violently, completely lose the ability to talk, and sometimes
hallucinate. I have since learned to feign normalcy, but it took a lot of years
and a lot of pot to reach Peggy's level. I just hope she can stay
there because marijuana is a hell of a lot safer and cheaper than her Big Pharma medicine.
18 comments:
I LOVE that she has found relief from her migraines. And admire her nonchalent response to an altered state of consciousness.
I tended to skulk away to a quiet and dark corner and stay there. Noooo interaction with people if at all possible.
How did your colonoscopy go?
You know, pot is legal for recreational use here in WA. I would go and try it for migraines because it sounds like it works for Peggy.
But the last time I smoked pot? I had a pipe and I inhaled and inhaled and was wondering why I couldn't feel anything different. SO I kept puffing. Finally I decided that the whole bunch was no good. Flushed it down the toilet, feeling let down.
Two hours later, I am laying in my bed, my hands in fists, clutching my sheets because I could NOT remember how to breathe. I was so afraid to go to sleep because I thought I'd stop breathing in my sleep. It was a horrible night, to say the least. Had to mentally walk myself through breathing each breath, to live through that night.
The time before that, I sat on a couch after some hits of pot. It must have been potent, because I sat there and could not talk. People would come up and talk to me and I just could not respond. That part stopped working in my brain. I just stared at them and didn't move. I became a STONE!
Glad Peggy handled it OK!
I actually laughed out loud reading this account but it confirms in my mind that marijuana shouldn't be legally and freely available to everyone and his brother, knowing that there are those who will be using and driving. When and if it ever becomes legal in my state, I will stop driving. It is a terrible situation with drivers and their cell phones.
Loved this post, Snow. Good to hear Peggy has started her retirement with a bang ... or rather a buzz! "Didn't feel a thing" eh, with the first crumb and a puff? lol
I've never had any problems with weed but a few days ago I took one of my wife's gabepentins (she takes them for nerve pain) and I felt loopy all day. I don't like that because morning is my favorite time of day and it's when I'm most productive.
"How did your colonoscopy go?"
Five polyps and a "redundant colon," whatever that is (I'll be looking it up eventually). A friend of Peggy's started my IV, and the procedure happened an hour late because the patient before me was such a mess. The doc asked if I had any questions going in, so I asked him a few about himself, like, "How many of these do you do in a year?" The answer was 1,300.
"I could NOT remember how to breathe."
Better to get lost in your own neighborhood and have your purse turn into a cat, I always say.
"knowing that there are those who will be using and driving."
I figure it's easier to regulate that which is legal, but it does bother me how underestimated this drug is. I now feel badly that I even let Peggy park, but I would have also felt badly had I not taken her word that she was up to it because Peggy wouldn't be one to knowingly take a risk that might endanger others.
"I''ve never had any problems with weed but a few days ago I took one of my wife's gabepentins (she takes them for nerve pain) and I felt loopy all day."
That would be Neurontin. She should have warned you because they're one of the best sleeping aides out there until you build up a tolerance. So, it wasn't you; it was just how the drug works until you get used to it.
"I could NOT remember how to breathe."
P.S. I don't know, of course, what was going with you or even if you had pure weed, but what has been true of me in the past is that I would do fine unless I got scared (always because of my social environment), but once I got scared and tried to fight the drug, the drug would take over, always in a way that was terrifying. The problem I have now is that the drug makes me think very intensely, this continues way past the point of me wanting to mellow out, and I'm later exhausted, sometimes into the next day. It happens this way EVERY TIME anymore, and it's not even a little bit enjoyable.
Picture this: Yesterday I was sent to a pulmonologist who asked why I was there to see him. I said "My doctor sent me." Whereupon he demanded I see a cardiologist and made the plans for me.
This morning a NEUROLOGIST called to ask what I was being referred to him for. I said "Beats the hell outta me. They said I should see a cardiologist."
Later, the actual cardiologist called to set up the appointment and asked "What problem are you having that you need a cardiologist."
I said "My pulmonologist thinks I need help to prevent a heart attack, and I am of the belief that more heart attacks are caused by medical intervention than mother nature."
Yet still, he set me up for next week.
I assume HE will insist I must see HIS friend, the podiatrist.
I'm stuck in the revolving door at an insane asylum.
An "entertaining" and informative post Snowy.
I've never had the chance to try hash, grass, pot, weed or whatever the current nomenclature might be today but have always fancied giving it try. Now, after reading this article and the comments, I'm not so sure.
When, in 1974, I argued that pot should be legalised to remove the drug dealing aspect I was pilloried by my colleagues as being traitorous. I was a member of H.M. Customs and Excise in those days and such talk was not smiled upon.
I'd read a few papers on this drug and of certain experiments and my feeling was that this was a harmless and sociable drug. It made people 'happy and laughing' supposedly. Better than booze which frees one from inhibitions but can also make one violent.
I'd still argue for legalisation but only because it's possible to control it more easily and perhaps bring some income via tax laws instead of lining the pockets of crims!
Snow, I read your previous post and am glad that though you don't talk about your pain, you write about it. I admire your sense of gratitude for the things you still have and I thank you for allowing us the opportunity for compassion for someone who suffers.
Am glad Peggy has found some relief for her migraines. This will make her retirement more enjoyable.
Body chemistry may be different for Peggy. I know the few times I've tried to smoke it has taken a lot to produce any real noticable effect.
"I've never had the chance to try hash, grass, pot, weed or whatever the current nomenclature might be today"
Hash is a product of cannabis. Grass, pot, and weed, are cannabis.
"have always fancied giving it try. Now, after reading this article and the comments, I'm not so sure."
It's a lot stronger now. Speaking of where I'm from, back in the 70s and 80s, a person might smoke a whole "bowl" or a whole "joint." Now, a single hit will do as much as a whole bowl or joint would back then. There was a day when "one hit pot" was a thing of legend, and now it's the norm. Of course, it was also true back then that buds were hard to find, so most of what we smoked were leaves, and they're not nearly as strong.
I am very much for legalization, partly because of growing up in a "dry" state. As I guess you know, America was a dry nation from the late teens to the early 30s. My own state of Mississippi remained dry for another 35 years. The result of this was that, when I was a boy, it was extremely easy for kids to buy liquor because the black market didn't care who it sold to, but once Mississippi finally repeated Prohibition in 1967, it instantly became impossible for kids to buy booze. The following entry from the "Urban Dictionary" is reminiscent of my adolescence experience with alcohol:
"Most high school students report that it is easier for them to obtain cannabis than alcohol. This is possibly due to the fact that people who sell cannabis are already breaking the law and have few problems with selling to minors."
"Body chemistry may be different for Peggy. I know the few times I've tried to smoke it has taken a lot to produce any real noticable effect."
If you take a narcotic, the first time you don't need much, but every time after the first time, it will affect you a little less strongly, so you'll need more to get the same effect. Pot is different for some reason. First-timers and people who rarely use it often conclude that there's nothing to it, or that it doesn't affect them, and it's my guess that they are in every case wrong. It's almost as if you have to use enough of it for it to find the correct pathways in your brain. At least that's how it feels, although I'm sure there's some molecular reaction going on that makes a lot more sense than this.
"For her next trick, Peggy announces that there’s a cat in the car, but the cat turns out to be her purse." - This has literally had me in tears laughing. Forgive me Peggy, I know it won't have been a pleasant experience, but Snows telling of it, and that which he briefly considered shouting is what we call comedy gold over here. You hVe a great sense of humour dear, it matches mine perfectly. Thank you for that laughter, it is a gift you know. *smiles broadly. Glad to hear colonoscopy went ok too.
"Snows telling of it, and that which he briefly considered shouting is what we call comedy gold over here."
Thank you. I left out one part because I thought it was more sad than funny. When Peggy pulled over so I could drive, I opened my door, but was aware that she was just sitting there, so I turned to look at her, and she asked, "What do I do?" to which I responded, "You get out of the car and trade places with me," and so she did.
Am I the only Cheech and Chong fan? I thought this clip was so funny that I must have watched it a dozen times. One reason it's funny is that the part about the Labrador is so close to true, stories about dogs eating dope being as common as they are legendary. I've never actually known anyone who smoked shit, but I've heard people wonder out loud how well it would work. Really big joints are also legendary, and everyone hopes their friend will offer them one, but they're not really practical. Another part of the clip that's funny is that the driver holds onto the joint for a long time before he takes a hit. That's a very big no-no among pot smokers because it wastes pot. There's even a song about it: http://youtu.be/EvGJvzwKqg0
It isn't funny..but still it is! One day, I will share my one-and-only experience with Marijuana cookies!
Love,
♥ Robin ♥
Thanks for the giggle Snowy! I'm glad Peggy is enjoying herself!
Kylie, I think it was you who asked about the lab results. The polyps were precancerous, so I have to go back for another colonoscopy in five years. Peggy wasn't happy about waiting so long, so she read on the Internet that three years might be a reasonable amount of time to wait. Peggy is literally phobic about cancer. Fortunately, she's never had cause to think she had it, whereas I've had at least six biopsies by now, so many that they don't worry me that much anymore, not that they ever did. I just figure that if I ever do have cancer, that I'll probably survive it okay. Right now, I'm told that I have about a 33% chance of having prostate cancer, but I've refused a biopsy, much to Peggy's displeasure. I finally told her that I would have one if she insisted, but she said she wouldn't insist.
Post a Comment