From Reefer Madness to Schedule III: What I Learned About Marijuana
/By Carol Levy
I was a child of the late 60's and early 70's. I gave daisies to policemen as I walked by them. My friends called me a “hippie dippy.”
In a way, I was. I protested against the Vietnam war. I sat in the park with friends and sang folk songs. One of the boys wore love beads. I wore a headband.
I never did try any of the psychotropic drugs that were easily obtained at that time. Illegal, yes, but very available. Marijuana seemed to be the one most easily gotten.
Since my trigeminal neuralgia pain started in 1976, doctors prescribed me with most of the opioids that were available, including tincture of opium, morphine, oxycodone, fentanyl, codeine, Demerol, Darvon, and even methadone.
I had the same reaction to all of them. I felt groggy, cotton-headed, and dry-mouthed – and they didn't help my pain at all.
Google “How do opioids make you feel?” and you’ll get answers like, “Opioids make you feel calm, relaxed, and euphoric by blocking pain signals and activating pleasure centers in the brain."
None of which I found to be true.
The stories about marijuana made me nervous. My friends said it makes you high and gives you the munchies.
Google “How does marijuana make you feel?” and you’ll be told it causes “feelings of euphoria, deep relaxation, intensified sensory experiences, and altered time perception.”
All of which I was afraid was true!
I like to be tied to reality. My fear was that marijuana would make me feel as though reality had left me, as the “Reefer Madness” movie said it would. This was a drug I would never try.
But then medical marijuana became legal in my state of Pennsylvania. Despite the pain and no benefit from any opioid, I wasn't sure I wanted to try it.
To be honest, as much as none of the opioids scared me, marijuana did. I wasn't sure how it would make me feel.
Most of us know the quiet desperation of poorly treated pain: “I'll try anything to stop the pain.” That is how I felt about marijuana. Fearful or not, maybe, just maybe, it will help. And, I had reason to believe it might.
Despite marijuana being an illegal Schedule I controlled substance with “high abuse potential and no accepted medical use,” limited research was permitted under strict FDA and DEA regulations. Marijuana may soon be rescheduled as a legal Schedule III substance, although its future use in medicine is still an open question.
Over the years, I have seen research that showed marijuana helped those with anaesthesia dolorosa (phantom pain), which is the pain and numbness many amputees feel after a limb is removed. I have anaesthesia dolorosa on one side of my face, a side effect of surgery.
If marijuana helped them, would it help me?
I signed up for Pennsylvania’s medical marijuana program. The next step was to find a doctor, authorized by the state, to certify that I met the requirements for certification, which meant having one or more of the disorders on a list of allowable health conditions. Once I was certified, I was free to go to a dispensary and buy medical marijuana.
It may sound incredible today, but when I got my first prescription for opium – way back when – the pharmacist immediately filled it for me. The same was true for all the other opioid prescriptions I was given. If I had questions, the pharmacist could answer them.
I expected the same would be true for marijuana.
The dispensary had security, that was not a surprise. I had to show my state certification card to get inside the building. Then I sat in a waiting room, filled with others waiting their turn.
After a few minutes, someone came out of the office, and called my name. We went to a room with a counter and 5 or 6 stations where you would select the marijuana you would buy.
I knew nothing about how marijuana worked, what kind I should try, or how much I needed. There was no prescription setting the dose or how often I should take it. No doctor told me what to get or the CBD and THC combination I should try. The salespeople could not answer my questions about dosage, effects, or how long it would stay in my system.
I am glad so many of us are now able to try marijuana, a drug that carries fewer consequences than some of the higher-level opioids I used to get.
But I hate that no one can tell me the important points: how much, how often, etc. When I first tried marijuana, it didn't help. The two pain doctors I saw told me I wasn’t taking enough. But they couldn't tell me how much is “enough.”
Marijuana is a wonderful addition, finally, to the list of drugs we are allowed to have. I am happy I have the option. But I am very unhappy that it is still not seen as a medical medication. It’s more of a “what the heck, give it a try” substance.
Maybe marijuana can be another tool that doctors have in their arsenal for chronic pain. Maybe getting it off Schedule I and putting it into Schedule III will let the research start in earnest, and it will then become a real medication your doctor can prescribe with specific instructions on the type, combination, and dosage.
I look forward to the day you can marijuana from a pharmacist, instead of an untrained salesperson in a dispensary
