Anxiety Attacks by Anonymous
I was a daily user in high schooland college. But, for various reasons, I haven't smoked in about 12 years. My wife also smoked when we met, but stopped smoking when I did.
About 7 or 8 years ago, my wife began having panic attacks. I still don't understand them, but it's like freaking out only you're straight. At first, it only happened about once a week. Soon she was having them every day. We went to doctors, and they tried several medications that didn't work. The attacks increased to several times a day and she lost her job. The doctors still didn't seem to have the answer (I think they were making stuff up, because nothing they gave her worked), but now that she wasn't working, the attacks were down to a couple a week.
Fast forward a year and a half to the birth of our son (accidental - we took precautions), Now she had depression. A host of drugs were prescribed that didn't work - Effexor, Prozac, etc.Most had the horrible side effect of preventing her from having an orgasm. She began to put on weight and 3 years ago was up to 225lbs. Her depression was severe.
The she saw something on TV about ADHD, and though some of her symptoms were similar. She had become unable to function. So, she asked her doctor about it, and he prescribed r Adderal. It seemed like the answer at first, she was finally able to function as a normal person would, but there were side effects. The panic attacks returned, as well as a lesser grade (which she calls anxiety attacks), and she began having stomach pains which were diagnosed as IBS (used to be called spastic colon). During one bad episode she was hospitalized for 3 days!
Then, about 2 years ago, we were at a party and she began having a panic attack. Someone at the party offered to toke her up to relax her, and it worked! Now she wanted to have some on hand,I had a hard time getting hooked up at first. I was totally out of the loop, and everyone I asked said it was "dry".
Anyway, any time she started to feel anxious or panicked, a little MJ worked like a charm. She talked to her doctor, and he was all for anything that helped. He even suggested reducing the Adderall and smoking to see how that did for her. Soon she was skipping the Adderall altogether and toking up all day. She is back down to 114lbs & looks great. She is able to hold a job. No panic attacks. No IBS. Just a little wonder drug every day.
(18 Nov, 1999) A day in the life of a Vancouver Compassion
Gordon was jarred from his slumber by the buzz of his first
alarm… 9:30 am.
He jolted himself out of bed in order to take his
METOCLOPRAMIDE early, to prevent the inevitable morning nausea which would come
after 10 o'clock when he would again rise from his slumber with the alarm of his
pill timer in order to take his AZT, 3TC, and Crixivan - antiviral medications.
He had learned how to alleviate this nausea almost instantly, almost
miraculously, even without the help of his early morning medication. After he
had rolled a few points of master kush from the day before into a skunk brand
hemp paper and inhaled a few hoots, his nausea and morning malaise was instantly
lifted, and the beauty of it was he could control the dosage. Some days his
nausea was light, and a puff or two would do, other days he would be vomiting
and calm himself down with the healing herb.
Playing kick the can with the garbage and the leaves along
Kingsway Gordon headed for the bus. He contemplated how difficult it had been to
obtain the sacred herb before, how he had to hang out on the street, at pigeon
park, or the Poffi café on commercial, how he had dealt with bikers and smooth
operators and even minors to obtain his illegal stash. He thanked God for the
few reliable connections and friends he'd met through a common interest in
smoking the ganja. Many of his very best and true friends had come from
communion with the weed.
Showing his handicapped pass and getting on the bus Gordon
remembered the fear and trepidation with which he used to set out to the BC
Compassion club, fearing that secret police and black boots would set upon him
either coming or going or raid the club where so many find their refuge. He used
to recite the sorrowful mysteries chanting Hail Mary's on the short bus ride up
commercial there. Now he prays the joyful and glorious mysteries in thanksgiving
that it's there every time the bus pulls up and that the new big white sign on
the door says "Don't Hang Around outside" instead of "Closed By
Order of Vancouver Police."
Showing his membership card to the bronze haired intelligent
looking receptionist with her groovy, tinted beatnik glasses, Gordon buys a
fifty cent raffle ticket on this week's t-shirt draw and takes number and his
place on a wooden chair in the waiting area.
Hillary, looking radiant and serene with her hair pulled
back, is watering the plants, no longer harried by peoples constant queries and
media interviews. The club is quiet this morning but a lady with magnificent
African braids with a small child in tow who is dressed as prim and proper and
immaculately as you can imagine, and is as well behaved as a cherub, waits,
playing with the toys to everyone's amusement. An old fellow is also ahead of
Gordon, someone whom he'd seen come in drunk and be scolded on one occasion, but
was remarkably sober now and well kempt.
Looking up at the menu there was Master Kush for 10 dollars a
gram, Cherazz for 9, Honey Bee for 8, and a yummy indica for 7 as well as
Pakistan Hash for 9. Some were marked as indica which is more of a sedative body
stone and good for pain, and others sativa which can give you energy and
stimulate appetite and is more of a high. Gordon knew both were good for nausea
and knew the sativa would allow him to do the dishes and cook dinner as well as
give him appetite and indica would be good for night and sleeping.
Slipping through the purple curtains when his number was
called Gordon was greeted by silly, funny, Jill with the ring in her nose, who's
always quick with a laugh but is damn serious when it comes to getting the best
available for the members.
"Hows it going there? Gordon will be having the master
Kush I bet!" she laughs.
"A gram of that and a gram of cherazz," Gordon
complies. The samples are all displayed in little bottles for smell and touch
"You do have a baggy? Of course you do. Gordon always
has a baggy," Marcel quips as he's weighing it up exactly on the scales.
Jill takes the money gives change and puts it in cash
register as Gordon signs the members' record.
"May I have a rolling paper please," Gordon asks
"Always," says marcel stripping one off.
"Don't forget to go to the members meeting. I didn't see you at the last
Gordon slips out of the curtains, to the relief of those
still waiting in chairs, and separates the thick heavy curtains of the smoking
room. Inside the well lit room the stereo is playing classic rock tunes and
member #1 is sitting at table across from the Spanish dude who's examining the
chess board. Gordon seats himself at the coffee table and asks the East Indian
lady for her scissors so he can roll up the tight dark green bud which is
riddled with fine red hairs and has aroma of a primordial forest. The resident
philosopher has taken up the big comfy chair and is proposing an Internet site
where people can petition their government for legalisation.
"Not a bad idea," says member #1. "But we cant
even get people to make it to the meetings. What we need is some people who are
going to get off their ass and do something."
Just then the curtains parted and the tall blond guy rolls in
a chair, with their old buddy, who though he is now staying in a hospice, still
wanted to come out and be with his friends. He is still the life of the party.
He gestures for his other friend with the green, green, eyes, to roll a joint
for him as he has lost control of his limbs, and nods for it to be passed to
Gordon. The guy with the cane comes in and rolls some indica, he is really in
pain, and every movement stiff. Then suddenly the Reki Massage lady and the
Herbalist come looking for their twelve o'clock appointments.
Gordon rousts himself from the intimacy of the small group
and after checking the free clothes bin headed for the front doors. There
sitting on the window sill, intent upon reading through some papers, is David
Malmo Levine, whom Gordon had seen making a speech at the Cannabis Day rally.
The young activist is facing trafficking charges yet continues to work for the
cause busying himself with writing and getting the message out that we need not
have this 'reefer madness' mentality.
"The war on drugs should not even be against us! Here is
a harmless herb, a weed, even, that's bringing so much relief in a myriad of
different ways," Gordon considered to himself. "People, some people,
are standing up to be counted, fighting stigma and taking the risk for those too
lame to stand up for themselves." Gordon had to stop to ask to shake
As he got on the bus going back he knew that he was going to
be alright, that the compassion club was going to be there, that he didn't have
to be ill anymore, and that he had friends.