marijuana ethics

Those two years were awful. Me personally, it was hell because of my brain surgery to lessen my seizures. The pain and the painkillers’ side effects were horrible. I was a child again The headaches were so brutal they brought me to tears. I spoke incoherently without realizing it, and it made me so frustrated. I’d try to ask for water, but instead of water I was saying ‘vacuum.’ I couldn’t comprehend well on any level, I ended up watching kids shows because that was all I could understand. I had to keep track on pen and paper of when I took my painkillers, and I found myself repeatedly checking just to see if it was time for the next one yet.

For others it is having epilepsy, making them unable to swim, drive, or sometimes survive. For others it is being unable to eat because of cancer and the chemotherapy that can comes with it. For others it’s PTSD because war is hell, and the war doesn’t necessarily “end” with peace. For many others it is pain so debilitating from conditions like Multiple Sclerosis, Fibromyalgia, ALS or many others.

However, I don’t want non-voters to feel like any of this was their fault. Non-voters, you didn’t cause our medical conditions and for that I will not blame you. You didn’t vote among the 43% who flat-out opposed the medical marijuana for those in need, so I still hold you on higher ground than some. You made the decision that you’re free to make, so I respect you.

Is this system so broken that we’ve come to rather watch a child suffer instead of helping them because the government insists on dragging their heels regarding “Schedule I medicine”? Does anyone realize that the term “Schedule I medicine” is itself an oxymoron?

Is this system so broken that we’ve come to rather watch a child suffer instead of helping them because the government insists on dragging their heels regarding “Schedule I medicine”? Does anyone realize that the term “Schedule I medicine” is itself an oxymoron?

‘Now’ being the operative word. I, Joshua Winer, will not accept staying stuck in the ‘now.’ I will not accept stagnation of the law’s evolution. I, Joshua Winer, CANNOT accept the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) refusing to remove marijuana from it’s scheduling as a Schedule I drug.

Schedule I is a term some of us have seen/heard before, but for those that haven’t, it means the following: “Schedule I drugs, substances, or chemicals are defined as drugs with no currently accepted medical use and a high potential for abuse.” “No currently accepted medical use” being the key phrase. Nevermind all the evidence that proves this wrong. Nevermind the patients with cancer that medical marijuana helps get through chemotherapy. Nevermind a patient suffering from over 100 seizures a day to getting down to much fewer or no seizures at all! Nevermind the patients suffering from countless conditions that cause excruciating amounts of pain, such as Multiple Sclerosis (MS), Crohn’s disease, and ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). Nevermind those who are suffering from chronic pain as a result of injuries. Nevermind those who have served our country who currently suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

If I can, I always opt to ditch my name tag in a dementia care environment. I let my friends with dementia decide what my name is: I’ve been Susan, Gwendolyn, and various peoples’ kids. I’ve been so many identities to my residents, too: a coworker, a boss, a student, a sibling, a friend from home, and more. 

Don’t ask your friend with dementia if they “remember your name” — especially if that person is your parent, spouse, or other family member. It’s quite likely to embarrass them if they can’t place you, and, frankly, it doesn’t really matter what your name is. What matters is how they feel about you.

Here’s my absolute favorite story about what I call, “Timeline Confusion”:

Alicia danced down the hallway, both hands steadily on her walker. She moved her hips from side to side, singing a little song, and smiled at everyone she passed. Her son, Nick, was walking next to her.

Nick was probably one of the best caregivers I’d ever met. It wasn’t just that he visited his mother often, it was how he visited her. He was patient and kind—really, he just understood dementia care. He got it.

Alicia was what I like to call, “pleasantly confused.” She thought it was a different year than it was, liked to sing and dance, and generally enjoyed her life.

One day, I approached the pair as they walked quietly down the hall. Alicia smiled and nodded at everyone she passed, sometimes whispering a, “How do you do!”

“Hey, Alicia,” I said. “We’re having a piano player come in to sing and play music for us. Would you like to come listen?”

“Ah, yes!” she smiled back. “My husband is a great singer,” she said, motioning to her son.

Nick smiled and did not correct her. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and said to me, “We’ll be over there soon.”

I saw Nick again a few minutes later while his mom was occupied with some other residents. “Nick,” I said. “Does your mom usually think that you’re her husband?”

Nick said something that I’ll never forget.

“Sometimes I’m me, sometimes I’m my brother, sometimes I’m my dad, and sometimes I’m just a friend. But she always knows that she loves me,” he smiled.

Nick had nailed it. He understood that, because his mom thought it was 1960, she would have trouble placing him on a timeline.

He knew that his mom recognized him and he knew that she loved him. However, because of her dementia, she thought it was a different year. And, in that year, he would’ve been a teenager.

Using context clues (however mixed up the clues were) Alicia had determined that Nick was her husband: he was the right age, he sure sounded and looked like her husband, and she believed that her son was a young man.

This is the concept that I like to call timeline confusion. It’s not that your loved one doesn’t recognize you, it’s that they can’t place you on a timeline.

i didn’t correct her on my gender or the year or my name. i didn’t tell her that virginia and leo had been married forty years and were doing fine; i thought that might reassure her, but then, it might just throw her for a loop, so i kept it to myself. i kind of wanted to tell her leo had been an excellent mentor to me and she’d taught him well, but i figured i could save that for a better opportunity. (as it happened, i didn’t get the chance, but i think she knew she did a good job.)

i just understood that she saw me as a young person she wanted to teach and look out for, and maybe a person whose agency she wanted to validate despite society trying to squash it.

so i listened to her advice and thanked her, and told her i’d think on it, and she was happy. and i did think on it, too, and it helped me in my relationship with seebs.

You know what else treats pain?