Earlier this year, one of my friends asked: "Will medical cannabis get you stoned?"
This was just before my first appointment to get "qualified" for medical cannabis use. I wasn't sure how to answer.
What did I know about medical cannabis? Not much. I struggled to parse what I was finding online. Perhaps I was naive in expecting straightforward information communicated by words without multiple meaning. So I was thrown off by the lingo.
For example, I began my quest, back in February 2016, by asking my primary care doctor whether she "prescribed" medical cannabis. She did not, she said. I later learned the distinction between "prescribe" and "qualify." Federal law prohibits U.S. doctors from prescribing medical cannabis, because it is still an illegal substance according to federal law.
I even searched online for "doctors in MN who prescribe medical weed." At that time, I found just two. After a little research, I chose a doctor in Golden Valley because of his experience in managing pain.
I expected the experience would be similar to visiting a primary care physician. "How are you today? What are your symptoms?" Instead, the clinic staff gave me a long checklist of instructions during the initial phone call. I followed the instructions to the letter. For example, they directed me to write down my e-mail password and have it handy for my appointment, for reasons that became clear as I progressed through the process. It was all very mysterious, but I obeyed carefully.
I was desperate by this point. The severity of my pain and spasms was escalating. I have a musculoskeletal condition and multiple degenerative conditions, which cause debilitating spasms. By their nature, the degenerative conditions aren't going to improve; they will only keep getting worse. Already, I have very little cushion between vertebrae. I have one vertebra that constantly crunches another, like a ledge of rock sliding against the one below. This squeezes the nerves coming out of my spinal cord, causing searing pain and a lack of mobility. My neurologist says that at 57 I'm "relatively young" for this degree of degeneration. If I wasn't able to get qualified for medical cannabis, I planned to beg my doctor for oxycodone.
"I'm qualified," I announced to my husband after the visit. I was still starry-eyed with disbelief.