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The Local Physician system I experienced to obtain my Medical Marijuana Card still haunts me, more so since one of my diagnosis is PTSD.
RECAP: The back room of the head shop on that day, was on different days used as a supply room. Over crowed with inventory, cleaning supplies and filth. I have never had an abortion, but as I sat at a wobbly card table used as the intake desk, I imagined this must be what a back-room illegal abortion clinic might look like back in the 1950's.
I was pressured to keep moving, the guy making all the promises and giving coupons was never seen again. Even though he gave me his phone number, later leaving a message as yet to work, if I had questions and concerns well to bad for me because: My calls have never been returned.
Although the Pharmacy is clean, it is set up like Fort Knox, making you feel as though there is a strong criminal element going on behind the door that buzzes you in when it is your turn. Wow I felt trapped. I remember reading in our local paper that the first dispensary, suffered some damage shortly after sunrise when this four-door stolen BURNING car rammed into the building. I feel a panic attack coming on, so I switch my focus onto to the people surrounding me.
OMG, the attire (professional uniforms) of the workers leaves a lot to be desired if you are looking for professionalism. I was forced to watch Cheeh and Chong cartoons while I waited for my turn again after passing the Buzzer Security Door. Okay, excuse my senior/disabled citizen status, but Mohawks and facial piercing do not instill a feeling of medical confidence in me.
It is a true fact that only a licensed professional can touch a patients medication. As I sat with many people glued to the ridiculous clatter of cartoons on TV, I began to wonder and worry if these "Dispensary Professionals" practiced proper "Medical Hygiene Techniques". Sorry Cheech and Chong I like your movies way back when but the cartoons are stupid.
Maybe this was a sign that Marijuana was going to make be feel, immature and unintelligent. Well most of the other medication I have been prescribed over the decades had pretty much the same affect. Psych meds make me sleep all day and pain meds, not only made me bounce off the walls, came with their own set of physical side affects like severe constipation. Great my back feels better but tomorrow I would be trying to defecate concrete-like stool.
No problem I was prescribed more prescriptions to treat the symptoms of the other prescriptions, a vicious cycle I spun just to try to feel normal. Then came the tragic event, when my 22 year old grandson, along with a friend, robbed me of my medications one evening. That was the night I knew I was a prescription drug addict and I was not willing to be robbed or die to feel better. I had to own my pain and learned to cope without narcotics.
For the most part I do not socialize with or really like most people. I prefer the company of my little Chihuahua dog it is a less complicated trusted relationship.
I had to remind myself that Old people like me are worry warts. Some days I feel so old my flatulence probably contains dust. I really need the Miracle Cure every one online is talking about. So I focused on my breathing like I have been taught, Breathe in deeply through the nose, out slowly through the mouth. Focus on yo9ur breathe and just breathe through the impending panic attack. I had waited so long I was about to hit the reception desk and ask how much longer it would be.
I did not approach the desk as the young ladies did not give me a very friendly vibe. I remembered reading in my local paper that the first Dispensary (Pharmacy/ office location). Breathe just breath push away those bad feelings. There is so much Propaganda available that litters the Internet is it becomes mind boggling to sort fact from fiction. Anyway I got enough meds to last me a while, but am running low. I am not using it on a daily basis, as I do not want to become addicted or dependant. I also do not want to be driving my car while High because I do feel rather incapacitated when I am under the influence of Medical Marijuana.
On previous narcotic pain medication, I felt so off balance that I actually broke the same leg 3 times in 2 years each time requiring a cast. But hey I was feeling no pain and I mean absolutely no pain. However, Psychologically speaking, I think I was becoming rather demented and began cutting myself artistically. On the last cutting adventure I rubbed Indian ink into the would to form a rather rustic tattoo type bracelet.
I do not yet believe I have taken enough time to end this Medical Marijuana journey and will continue educating myself and while await motivation to write, I continue creating Marijuana Related Graphics to decorate my Web page pages.
Serious Factual, Information, Education Regulation and Taxation will not occur until there is FDA (Federal Drug Administration) Approves of Medical Marijuana. With all of the Land, National Monuments and other tourist attraction localities in America shut down last week, it is quite obvious that as Americans we have learned the enormous realization of just how much lack of Freedom we have to enjoy this country. Personally I am too old, too mentally abnormal, and too physically disabled to travel around sight seeing. But I had much empathy for real Tourists I heard on CNN and the young adventurous generation who felt underprivileged in the first part of October 2013.
I survive in my own realm of Normal, behind locked gates, guarded by my Dream Team: Three small dogs that yap their heads off at the slightest threats of territorial invasion. The Chihuahua the feistiest of biters, anyone walking to close is in for a nip or two. I then get involved with my holster on, my Glock45 safety off and a stern verbal warning to not try to pet the Psycho Dogs. Keep on keeping on.
Reminds me of a song Soak Up The Sun - Sheryl Crow…I today is my day to Toke on. Pump up the Volume... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIYiGA_rIls
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