Thursday, January 28, 2016

Departure from the norm to something different? Part 2

So here I was, staring at a web page about a kickstarter for a module being designed by the son of the one and only Gary Gygax.  Not only that, but there was history attached.  Of young Ernie solo manning the counter of the Hobby Shop Dungeon, enticing folks to try out his own creation.  Luring TSR workers from the Hotel Clair above him to abandon their warm cubicles for the dank, dark depths of the unknown.  Not only that, but from what I have been able to piece together, like a lot of us, he carried bits of pieces of this dungeon around with him for decades.  Now that...THAT, I could get behind and understand.  I fully knew the love that can come from building upon something through years and years of play.  How sentimental and like a child that project can be.

Folks, I then began to cry.  Yup, totally not gonna lie, have little to no care how nerdy it makes me, 10:45 at night, my eyes a little bleary from all the reading I had just done, I felt tears well up.  I finally understood.  It was like a light from heaven shined down with Gary's voice above saying the words "There ya go finally, it took you long enough"  I was not crying because of some pent up emotional issue, I was crying because I too had created something that I drug around in 14 Binders and various folders and 17 rolled up poster sized graph pages filled with maps inside an old surveyor's map case.  I had drug it from Indiana, to my barracks to my first apartment to another set of barracks and another apartment after that.  I had ran people from age 9 till I was 27 years old through my world.  There had been deaths, births, marriages, political infighting, an Empire formed, an Empire destroyed, treasures found and evil smited.  In my memory as the DM, these events were almost like real.  Not only could I remember the characters but I could remember the players that had ran them.

Sadly all that was lost to a tornado in 2002 along with most of my 1st edition and 2nd edition materials.  Scattered to the four winds.At the time, I was working at a gas station in Swansea, Illinois, not far from my apartment, and had just left the Air Force while I pondered my next step.  I saw the roof of my apartment, or at least part of it fly over me as I was pulling a branch off of a ladies car so she could get inside to relative safety from the storm.   I remember idly thinking, man I feel sorry for those people.  Well, turns out those people, were me.  But this story is not about that journey so I digress.  It is safe to say, after getting off work and coming home to a pile of rubble, I was sure I would never see Aenarion again.  As I sat staring at the kickstarter page, emotion just welled up inside me.  I was sad all over again at my own loss, but I was also overwhelmed with a desire to not let that be the end of the story.

You see, as I learned more about Ernie Gygax, and Robert Kuntz and others tied to the original incarnation of AD&D, I saw a lot of myself in them.  I saw that 13 year old kid in the basement of the Brown County Public Library, thumbing through the monster manual looking for a creature to terrorize my group.  I smelled the moldy basement, saw the flickering light that was always threatening to go out but never did, heard the clatter of the dice on the old wooden table.  Remembered misty dungeon entrances, dripping with slime and ichor, and most of all remembered the endless hours of laughing (that should have probably been spent doing homework)  and general mirth that ensued with every session.  Ya sure, we were not the jocks of Brown County High School.  The cheerleaders would not even give us a passing glance, and most people were loath to admit how much they did actually like Star Wars (something that still annoys me is seeing folks love on Star Wars now that brutally taunted my cousin and I for wearing Star Wars T-Shirts etc back then.  You know who you are and you don't deserve to wield your plastic colored stick sir!)

I sensed all of that in Ernie's project.  He was going to bring his past back to the forefront and not only that, he was going to share it with the world.  But he was not going to share it in the spoon fed mode, he was going to give us enticing backstory, to spur the mind, relevant background information on the setting but still loose enough it could easily fit into any campaign regardless of the system etc.  Genius, I thought, he is doing it just like Gary wanted.  He is providing the bones and muscle but like his dad he is leaving it to us to flesh it out.  Then it dawned on me, as Benoist kindly answered one of my questions on the facebook page for the Marmorial Tomb project.  I was still asking the kind of questions that all those other folks back in 1979 and even 2006 had been asking Gary.  Why can't elves be druids my son wants to know?   Benoist referenced where Gary got his inspiration from, a little author named Poul Anderson, as a place to find answers.

I promptly found a copy of The Broken Sword and Three Hearts and Three Lions by Poul Anderson.  I also picked up Jack Vance as well, though for whatever reason it was not my cup of tea, I stuck with it long enough to see where Gygax drew his magic system inspiration from.  From Anderson I understood why he chose to portray Elves the way he did.  They were not Tolkiens haunting beauties that were more Haughty human with pointed ears then fey.  These elves were alien in every sense of the word.  Their motivations were that of someone who lives forever and to which every pleasure was soon boring and trite.   They did things not out of direct malice but out of indifference.  Humans are short lived beasts to them, a play toy to amuse them briefly in the long stretch of endless millennia of tedium.  I then began to think how I portrayed my elves, and realized I too had been influenced by an author, Gav Thorpe, who portrayed his elves as something in between Anderson and Tolkiens view.

So right away I began thinking about  how I would implement this new epiphany into my game...and then I stopped myself.  Here I was conforming, using someone else's idea of how to do things without standing up for my own way of running them for decades.  You see the spoon fed nature I had been bred into was once again working on me.  I was going to change what I was doing just to be like other DM's and conform to a standard that honestly did not need to be conformed to.  After all, Aenarion was MY world, with MY elves and MY story.  How I chose to perceive elves or dwarves or magic was entirely up to my whims in my world.  That is the true gift Gary gave us, was the TOOLS to bring these worlds to life, not to try to be just like greyhawk, or just like forgotten realms, but to make our own story and our own legacy.  He never intended for us to try to run a game exactly how he and Rob use to run Castle Greyhawk.  For one thing, like most DM's from the sound of things Castle Greyhawk was a hot mess of papers and doodles and stats and maps, that changed based on the drive of the story and whom was running it at the time.

I went outside a little later that night and sucked in the cold mountain air of Colorado.  I pondered long and hard (till I couldn't feel my tootsies anymore) on what I wanted to do.  First off Empire of Imagination and spurred me to do one thing.  I was going to run my children through my own Gygaxian inspired adventure.  I had studied up on past player comments from some of his convention days as well as players who plaued sessions with Frank Mentzer as well.  I had always loved The Temple of Elemental Evil and The Village of Hommlet.  BUT, this time I was going to keep a constant journal, and as any opportunity came around for a plot hook I would throw it down.  Soon by the month of December I had named every villager between Hommlet and Nulb, went back and given motivations to a lot of them, and began running my kids and friends through Hommlet.  Not only was it different this time, but it was back to feeling like those days down in the basement of the Library.  Everyone showed up to the game with an air of excitement.  They might die!!!  They might find treasure!!!  It took one or two encounters before all at the table soon were white knuckling dice rolls and lamenting the loss of a favorite henchmen to a Giant toad.

It is not that 1st Edition plays any better or worse then any other game out there.  But what is important to note, is that it was the first.  People argue that one style of RPG is vastly superior to another.  I disagree completely.  I think one GM or DM is better then another.  I think groups of players may be better or worse then others.  I think the game is a tool and nothing more.  The experience is made by us.  I literally cannot wait till the HSD is in my hands.  Not because I am incapable of writing my own stuff, but because this is a project of love that is written from a place I understand.  Someone else who sat at his dad's table and friends tables and thought grander dreams into existence then some folks ever have.  Ernie never gave up, and frankly with folks like Benoist to help him hoist the flag high, I hope he never will.  I know that is what I have learned more then anything. NEVER GIVE UP.

Since Benoist did a video addressing his reason for joining the HSD Project I have also been inspired.  I have began to write my own RPG for the first time...well ever.  My son wanted to work with me and so we bought web space, we registered our domain, and my wife begins working on the website for Rolling Bones Games.  Our first project is something called Precipice and I am trying to create my own science fiction game that gives the freedoms of Traveller but with an original back story straight out of our imaginations rather then tied to any one piece of literature or inspiration.  It has been hard work but its flowing out of my brain a lot faster then it ever has.  Forty Seven pages in thus far and no end in sight.  Even if it never gets finished, it gives me time with my son and my cousin and a few other friends whom want to help with it.  That is the other lesson that Empire of Imagination taught me.  Gary made a few choice mistakes with his family life, I am not perfect either by any stretch, but I think I will take one positive from his life.  I intend to have my family with me for the whole ride.

So in summary, thanks to everyone who has documented their journey with the HSD Project.  It has serveed as inspiration to myself and I am sure many others.  Thank you to Ernie for leading me on a unintentional journey of self re-discovery, and most importantly thanks to every fan out there whom rolls the bones whenever able.  Our hobby is one unrestricted by technology changes, bandwidth limits and gas prices.  A few pencils, some dice and paper, a smatter of books and a light source and we are golden!  Oh ya, Imagination required but not included! Also, Aenarion has slowly been getting resurrected.  I may not have my original information intact, but I have contact with several of the 50ish or so different players to run through it over the years and most of the time with little bits of input whole details come back to me.  I made a mock map up for now, and slowly began from the northwest corner to rewrite the story of the lands incorporating past adventures into the official history.  My own personal Hobby Shop Dungeon I guess!

Keep your chin up!

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Departure from the norm to something different?

I haven't blogged in a few years honestly.  I had every intention too, but lets face it, life happens.  At some point I had desired in my mind's eye to be a writer.  However, I have found that writing is a far more intense effort then I had first expected.  Sure the ideas flood in, you jot them down quickly, but what I have found is that my ideas always come more like a Dungeon Master.  By that I mean, a large story arc, with several small encounters built in, but not a coherent long strain of thought.  I guess the best way to let you all understand is, A dungeon master provides what the eyes see, what noses smell, what the players hear and touch.  He plays every nefarious villain, with alignments to guide "how" that non player character will act.  But he does not write complex dialogue beyond what his creatures and villains need to say.  The innkeeper may seem very verbose, but you can bet if you start drilling me after a bit I am going to stumble,

Taking all of this into account, and examining my very large stack of failed writing attempts, what exactly was my issue.  I could spin a great yarn around a table but could never make it past 30 or so pages in writing a book of any kind before I just lost the drive, lost the thread of thought even with the outline I had produced.  I pondered this question for about a year now.  Was I just lazy?  Was I just making excuses.  Then in November I read a little book called "The Empire of Imagination"  In this book the writer, Michael Witwer, examines the life and inspirations behind Gary Gygax, the creator of Dungeons and Dragons.  It is a very honest, and unflinching look at the life of a man whom in his genesis, was not your typical "Nerd"  More James Dean then Sheldon Cooper.  Do not get me wrong, by his late 20's he was firmly entrenched in nerddom and the seeds of what would one day become Dungeons and Dragons were starting to sprout.

Something more important happened to me from reading this book.  I felt inspired.  So many of Gygax's life experiences were mirrored in my own past.  Here is a guy who got it.  He had 1000's of ideas firing around and only a fraction hit paper.  More importantly he understood something that I think a lot of Dungeon Masters miss.  The piece I was missing in my own writing was the dialogue that happens around the table.  The players provide the story through their own roleplaying.  When my son cackles with glee at his nefarious Cleric of Nerull getting away with some evil deed, My daughters roar of triumph when she takes out the orc that was about to kill the druid with a single shot from her bow...those are the details that the players bring to the tale.   Gygax got this early on.  In the late 70's as D&D was hitting the height of its popularity, players and DM's alike began crying out for more and more information relating too Gary's version of Greyhawk.  Gamers have chomped at the bit to find out what the 13 levels of Castle Greyhawk held.  But Gary, while still a business man, felt it was crucial that every game be unique to the group.  That modules be just guidelines and not hard fixed instructions as to how the game was to progress.

I also realized something.  When TSR was helmed by Gary, game products were designed for mostly the DM in mind.  This did not cause the product overload because if you got 6 D&D players usually 1 or 2 maximum are DM's, the rest are all players.  Production was kept to as close to demand oriented as it could be.  Players generally speaking in Gary's Day bought the players handbook, and MAYBE the monster manuals.  Other then that most products were reserved for the DM's eyes only.  This was because Gary did not want people trying to replicate what he was doing in Lake Geneva with Luke, Ernie, Rob, Elise and others.  He wanted us to make our own stories and tales.  In fact, as evidence of this, if you read any of his old responses on the Troll Lord games boards even, he was still answering the same questions I found him answering in 1979 in Dragon magazine.  Do dwarf women have beards?  Why cant elves be paladins or rangers or druids?  Over and over the same litany of questions.  But if you compare his 1979 answer to his 2006 answer, you see a vastly different Gary.

I theorize the difference in the answer is not just maturity, but instead understanding.  You see Gary had come to see his beloved game and what the money seeking harpies of certain companies have become, and what that effect had caused to occur within his own creation.  In order to make money, TSR switched its focus from tools and guidelines to spoonfeeding.  If you look at the product changes from 1st to 2nd edition AD&D, they became more spoon fed and less outlines or skeletons. So now players and DM's alike were not even rationalizing their own explanations for these questions.  Instead they were waiting for someone, anyone to tell them this is the reason why an elf cant do this etc etc.  This was only further egged on by the fact that TSR copped to the demands of the player base and began reversing some of these design decisions.  Suddenly to capture that player market they produced a glut of kit books, and player options.  TSR went after the players hardcore.  But as their business history shows, that was kind of a huge mistake for them.  Instead of focusing on how to increase their market appeal and attract new gamers, they opted to follow the 80's model used in comic books, baseball cards and the like.  Flood the market till it bursts with product.  

I promise this long winded explanation will eventually get back to my writing.  It ties together with the culture I was immersed in.  I was a young pre-teen and teen in the late 80's to early 90's stretch of gaming.  Though I got into D&D around 1982, I was very young and it was the red basic book with holes punched in it for binder use.  I did not graduate to Advanced Dungeons and Dragons till around 1985/86 which is when sadly Gary had been screwed out of his own company by a particularly vicious breed of gold seeking harpies.  I had no idea that 2nd edition did not come from the mind of the man that had inspired me but instead as a ploy in part to further stick it in and break it off in the guy who and invented the hobby in the first place.  I gobbled up whatever I could afford with my chore money and regularly begged my parents for trips to 25th Century five and dime in Bloomington, Indiana to pick up the latest bit of D&D goodness.  I paused over shrink wrapped modules in B-Dalton and Waldenbooks, and when the computer RPG versions hit the market I was the first kid to grab up the golden boxed treasures.  The whole time, much like a hero in a Poul Anderson novel I was being led away from my goal is writing and being creative that Gary had intended and instead being driven into the "don't think for yourself and create, buy buy buy and just regurgitate" medium that our hobby became and nearly died too.

In fact it is fair to say, even though I collect RPG's, I honestly was not collecting out of a desire to learn something new, most of them got flipped through once or twice and then sat upon a shelf, untouched and unused because and I quote "I WAS NOT ACTUALLY USING THEM".  You see even then at the height of second edition, I was still doing things like adapting Arcanum second edition to my game, or writing my own intense plots, that inevitably did not take place in the realms, or dragonlance or even greyhawk, but instead my own world Aenarion.  But I was so blinded to the fact that I was doing the hobby as the creator had intended that instead I still felt like I was doing something wrong.  Now let's be clear.  The glut of D&D products that were made are still high quality fun products by great authors.  I am not in any fashion knocking them, and were I in the author's position and offered the chance to write an adventure my way and get paid for it, or hell even see my name in print, I would have been all over it.  The politics and morality attached to pulling something farther and farther away from the vision of it's creator never once would have dawned on me.

So, fast forward to 3rd edition, I was in the military, and frankly moving quite a bit which made gaming pretty harsh.  I continued to run my world of Aenarion though frankly, it had devolved more into being just Forgotten Realms with touches of my world stuck in here and there...till at last by the time 3.5 was announced, I had completely given over to just running published modules with slight alterations as needed.  I think it was later when 4th edition came out to replace it and I was showing up to these tiny little sessions with me and a handful 14-18 year old kids for a 3 hour encounter adventure that I finally said forget this.  I knew in my heart something was wrong.  I knew now that while these kids had the right spirit, they were lacking the true vision of what the game was about.  It was all meta gaming min/maxing characters as the game became more World of Warcraft and less D&D.  

Now I was a 30 year old man with 2 very young children.  I was a civilian and my dreams of Dungeons and Dragons were just that...dreams.  Coupled with a Diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis and Diabetes within the same week and within months of just having a new daughter born and frankly, I was just done.  The spark that was my imagination burned low, and while I still tried to recapture writing adventures and short stories, my mind was spent just trying to figure out my own adventure with all these new challenges.  A few years later I met an on again off again friend named Sergio who also liked to roll bones.  We worked at Sherwin Williams for years together through some hectic times and built up a strong work relationship that just somehow never found its way into a strong out of work relationship.  We started and stopped half a dozen games over the course of the next few years as work and real life always won out.  I just could never get into 4th edition.  Something was missing from it, like a beautiful woman with no soul, I would pour through the 4th edition books and find pretty pictures and jaw dropping concepts but frankly the gameplay was all about dice rolling and not the "ROLE" of the character.  Something was beginning to break loose inside me that wanted answers but they were still a few years in coming.

Fast forward to 2015.  My kids now being pre teens and being extremely smart, loved to be read too.  My wife and I took so much pleasure doing this that at 10 and 12 years of age we are still reading to them even right now.  Not only that but a year or two before that I started bringing them to the table.  My son ,who is very logically minded, began to love the math and tactics of 4th edition.  I kept trying to explain to him how it was just not daddy's cup of tea, but he loved it so much we still ran many a game.  However then I discover this: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1709227718/ernest-gary-gygax-jrs-marmoreal-tomb-campaign-star?ref=video

and soon my mind was blown yet again.  I poured over the website, researched the history of the authors and artists and became intrigued.  These were guys from my era making a product that was in the vein of what I remember.  Not only that, they were doing it for a reason I could back, to honor the memory of the man that gave this hobby to me.  I then knew what it was I had to do...but you will have to wait to find out what happened in my next blog entry!




Tuesday, March 25, 2014

The past seems clearer every day

 I often find myself reminiscing over the past more and more. I suppose as one gets older some of those old memories will always dredge up from time to time. It is amazing how much clarity one can get from a memory though. A few days ago, I watched an episode of The Goldbergs and it told a story of how Adam Goldberg tried to play hockey, mainly to find some bonding material with his father. In the episode there is a part where he glides down the ice moving the puck like a pro just to stick in his own teams goal. What is eerie is watching this episode was like reliving a moment of my past. To make matters more odd the script for that episode was written by a guy named Chris Bishop in the credits. Okay, man that made it even more eerie. So I decided perhaps I should write down what happened to me and then compare the two stories for fun (no I do not think I am secretly writing scripts).
Well, here goes. Let me set the record straight. I played for 2 years in elementary school at basketball. This is after I failed miserably at baseball (due to my lack of practicing) , though I did manage to make someones dad go home with a busted mouth due to a foul ball, that was about the only time I did anything other then kick dirt up in right field and just about wet my pants when Dick Miller our coach showed me how a baseball could not make it through a catchers mask by tossing the ball repeatedly at the masks grill while I was wearing the mask.
My father would try when he had the time to play basketball with me in our backyard. The utility company had come through and bush hogged down the thicket we had in the backyard and my father had put up a basketball goal for me. He worked at a minimum of 6 days a week, sometimes 12 hour days sometimes 8. So to say he was tired was an understatement, yet when we spent time together I do not ever recall him showing any signs of fatigue. He told me to keep practicing and I could possibly try out for the basketball team in the fall. So practice I did. The problem was the goal was built on the dirt and mud (and clay this is brown county were talking about here) Not gravel which could sometimes if it was not packed right sending a basketball flying a random direction, or concrete, good old uneven, mole hole, craw dad hole, bumpy Brown County, Indiana mud.
After the ball bouncing back and hitting me in the balls the face and the stomach several times due to the random nature of the ground. I quickly resolved myself to not attempting to dribble and just shooting. After all, if I rubbed my socks, then rubbed my shorts on the hip area then bounced the ball 3 times, I was going to hit anything from the free throw line (5 imaginary bucks if you can tell me where I got that idea from, no father you cannot play) so I spent most of my summer playing horse and trying to hit 3 pointers like Larry Bird. When I complained to my father, his response was “Well why don't you practice dribbling in the garage on the concrete.” Looking back on it of course, that was a completely reasonable idea. But as with most kids, it wasn't what I had in mind because I couldn't shoot and dribble, so I just belly ached more and practiced less.
By the time basketball season came around, I think just about every kid who could joined up. Indiana University had this player, that had lit all of our imaginations on fire, so many kids wanted to play to be more like him. Michael Jordan was flying through the air and Larry Bird was hitting 3 pointers from anywhere. I was gonna be legendary just like them. And maybe just maybe, that girl with the blue eyes would notice me finally! I of course had not figured out girls at all really, but I knew that when I talked with this unnamed girl in class I got butterflies in my stomach. I was not sure what that meant but I knew that something told me it was a good thing. So it was time to get out there and win games for Sprunica Elementary!
So ya, I was, how should I put this, pretty much not designed for doing anything other then playing the role of road block. I was not fast, I was not very dexterous (I still could not dribble the ball worth a crap) The only thing that I had going for me was all the chores had made me a little bit bulkier then some of the other kids and that was not by very much either. Needless to say I spent more time on the bench then I did playing but the coach to his credit did try to work us all in. So lets fast forward a bit. Our school had done well enough to play in the first round of elementary school play offs and we were facing a school by the name of Zionsville. My dad actually had gotten the day off and rode up with us and with him in the crowd I was going to be unstoppable. I kept begging the coach to let me in let me in, my dad was here I was gonna do awesome. It went to the half and had spent exactly 1 minute 45 seconds in the game towards the end of the first half. The coach told me that I would get to start on the second half. I was ecstatic! We were playing at Zionsville, and I had decided there was no way I not gonna make a basket.
As fate would have it, my eagerness and frankly lack of experience, I had forgotten we switched sides at the half, and what was our opponents goal was now ours. So when the ball was tipped I just about knocked a kid out to get a hold of it. Then it began, my ascent to glory. I had the ball, Ben Nickels was looking at me to pass it to him, but no way was I gonna do that. Nope, I never got the ball, (because I sucked) I was going all the way. I dribbled rather terribly, ( I was so bad I rarely got the ball even in practice) down the court. The goal was WIDE OPEN. No one was blocking me, probably because of how awesome I was looking dribbling down the court. Why was Ben and Heath shaking their heads no at me, ah hell they were just jealous, this was my moment. Down I went bang, bang the ball bouncing off the floor, I could take a shot from here, no wait I will do a lay up, just so I look extra cool making it look so easy.
Up the ball traveled like a comet traveling through the air, my path to glory and triumph flying through the sky. I hear the sound of the ball smacking against the back board and ever so gently touching the rim before gliding like silk through the hoop. Elated I turned around, why were my teammates looking at me like a dumb ass.....why was my dad grimacing and shaking his head gently, I mean his son had just popped one in like a boss. Then as the ref was waving his hands to express no point, I knew what I had done.
Now to be fair, no one really spoke about it, It was not agonizing minutes of self disgust and jeering from the crowd. A few snickers, and that was that. My dad did not tease me when I got in the bus after the game, but I think he knew it had really bothered me, so he was quiet on the matter. After that I pretty much came to the conclusion that basketball was not for me. My dreams of being carried on the shoulders of my team, the blue eyed girl seeing how awesome I was went down with the swish of a shot going in the wrong teams goal. Looking back on it, It is funny to me, and I definitely see where things could have gone much worse for me.
If parents wish to use this tale as a “see how not practicing and giving 100% can make a negative impact, please go ahead. Truth be told, even as I kid it did not take long for my father's words to echo back at me. If I wanted it so badly, I should have tried. Every dream still require action to make it happen. When I took my son out the throw the ball back and forth, I saw his irritation at not being instantly great at wearing a mitt and tossing a baseball, and it gave me a serious case of Deja Vu. Much like my father, I tried to be patient, and tell him hey no one is great right off the bat, you have to work for it. I let him know while I would never force him to play a sport, or engage in something he had no desire to do as a extra curricular activity, if he started something he WOULD see it through to the end of the season. Through soccer, Lego Club, and some other more intellectual activities we have stuck to that.

Much like my father, I also enforce the idea that as long as you try and give it your all, that is all I require to be proud as hell of you. I don't need the winning shot to reaffirm my own manhood, I don't need him to be #1, I just need him to take pride in his attempt and give it as much effort as he can muster and whatever the results I will be proud of him. I think perhaps if I had realized my dad was doing that with me the whole time, which he was, I would have possibly given a bit more effort. There is no telling of course now. But it did give me an important lesson I have carried with me my entire life. Anything worth doing is worth doing well, because at the end of the day, your work effort, your sweat is what is going to be representative of who you are to everyone who views your completed task. So rub your kids head, let he or she know that something they did that day no matter how simple made you proud. You would be surprised how that will echo through their lives and carry them forward. It did for me. It also gave me a funny life story to relate that can be a lesson for others growing up. 

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Medical Marijuana and Me

      I am going to give a long background here just so people who do not know me as well understand where I came from.  I just want to ensure people realize I did not start life as a Pink Floyd loving (though I do love Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin) tie die wearing flower child.  I often refer to my life as a kid as being the ideal country boy 80's life.  I may not have engaged in some of the heavier farm labors as some of my classmates did, but make no mistake, I was no novice to shoveling horse crap, pulling weeds, planting, digging, building and fly swatting that comes from good country living.  I was never very good at sports.  Let's face it, I sucked for the most part.  Probably because I did not really engage in the trips to the park to play ball with the guys, the closest paved basketball court was a 2 mile bike ride, and like a lot of kids in my situation, I just expected to be naturally gifted and when I wasn't Steve Alford (80's brown county folks you know I refer to, think he captured every kids imagination back when I played basketball in my home town) I didn't really put forth the effort to get better.  You see even then my head was already up in the clouds.  Dreaming.....
       I was a country nerd, I liked outdoors and light-sabers, Deer and Hobbits.  I found Dungeons and Dragons at a young age thanks to Cindy Kline and her brother, and really there was no hope for me after that.  In high school I was just a guy that blended into the background.  We did not really have a ton of Bullies to contend with in our school and luckily I was big enough from outside chores that most of the guys who would have picked a fight generally left me alone for whatever reason.  Life now that I look at it was pretty decent.  I had my little clique of friends, a nice girlfriend who was just goofy and good natured enough to keep up with me, and I was a member of the band, which looking back on it, was probably not the best choice for wanting to move up the social ladder.  But somehow through it all, I came out unscathed.
       I would never call myself a goody two shoes, however, I never drank, smoked or tried any drugs in high school and in fact was 20 years old before I had smoked my first cigarette and drank my first beer even though I had enlisted at barely 18.  Life was dramatically different for me once I joined the military.  There it became REALLY apparent that I was what culture lovingly referred to as a square.  I lost out on several dates because either A) I was way too naive to understand I was being hit on or B) I was just way too passive.  Sure like most of the "nice guys" (yes I will label myself with that term) I often put myself in the friend zone right away with the opposite sex.
      What I am leading up to is, I was not nor have I ever been the super rebellious party animal.  I drank quite a bit for a few years in the military more to fit in then any desire to get drunk.   Still I followed several rules such as if alcohol touches the lips, the keys never leave the hips, don't go out places drinking unless your gonna stay etc etc.  I still managed to have a few close calls with stupid mistakes due to drinking, but by the grace of god I never did anything too rotten or hurt anyone to include myself (although there was the one broken ankle during wrestling with my roommate)  So ya I am not exactly the raging man of danger that I read about, the party animal like some of my friends.  In fact, with the exception of smoking, By age 24 most of my stupid mistakes were behind me in terms of partying.  As far as drugs went. especially marijuana, there was no way I would touch that stuff, I mean c'mon it makes you stupid and you can't have babies right?? Plus you touch marijuana next you will be hitting heroin or cocaine.  Nancy Reagan told me to say no and there must have been a darn good reason.  We will get into some of what the REAL reason was behind that drug campaign in another blog, but for now lets just go with the fact that I believed the hype.
       Several years later, at the age of 35, I became a marijuana user.  I nervously took the little edible named innocuously "Chewies" and without regard to the indications on the package (use half) thought its so tiny, no biggie and popped it into my mouth.  Ya,probably not the best decision I ever made.  After an hour my neuropathy was still raging on, no relief.  All I felt was this burning in my eyes. 4 hours later when my wife came in our bedroom to change her clothes for grabbing the kids from school I was still staring at the ceiling fan.  I hid in the bedroom embarrassed as I realized holy crap I am "baked"  In my head I was picturing devil horns sprouting from my head and the abyss of hell opening up under my feet.  What was I doing.  NANCY WOULD BE MAD.  Then I realized I was standing.  Standing without pain, the usual stiffness I had endured was lessened so much I barely noticed it.  I also realized I had gone 4 whole hours without a single ice pick headache as MSers are prone to get.  If you do not understand what a ice pick is, think the worst migraine pain you have ever felt added with a burning knife component shooting from the top of your head into your jaw.  The first time I had one I thought I was having a heart attack.  They can be so sharp and painful you can almost lose bladder control if they come unexpectedly.  They do not last long and up until this point, NOTHING I had taken had done anything about them really. Motrin, Tylenol, heck even Vicodin I had left over from a surgery did nothing to diminish them.
      Over the course of the next few months I began to experiment with different routes of ingesting it, Finally settling on using a vaporizer to inhale it without the harmful carcinogens associated with smoking it.  One thing that holds true, Marijuana reeks.  There is no way around it.  I have children as well.  I had to consider how I was going to responsibly use this in such a way that was transparent for them, but still allowing me to counter the effects of MS has it progressed.  Bare in mind up until this point, the doctors at the VA had tried to get me to use Oxymorphone, a form of Percodan or something like that.  Anything other then Marijuana which was federally illegal (though I was legal within the confines of Colorado before I ever used my first edible, having a doctor outside the VA write a prescription for it)  I was offered to try different opiates.  However, My own studies had shown opiates by and large did nothing to really help with the issues at hand with MS, just mask it, and often times led to much larger problems down the road.  So despite the VA's dislike of it, I opted to take my pain management into my own hands.  
         So now almost 4 years later, I go out to my garage in the evening time, once everything is done and there is no need for me to drive anywhere.  I use my vaporizer, and a few hours later I am snoozing like a baby most nights (a vast improvement over the years of pain ridden sleeplessness I had endured)  I have managed to stay upright mostly, and my spasms and tremors while painful during the day are still better tolerated.  See what most people do not realize is, there are many components to Marijuana that are quite amazing.  Finally we are starting to see modern medicine take a second look at this plant and they are finding great uses for it.  In Italy they use Cannabis oil to reduce the size of tumors in mice, later in 2013 they used it on human trials and it has had an almost miraculous reduction in tumors.  There are studies now that suggest that it may even be moved to more of a mainline treatment for cancer period.  
          Everyone looks at marijuana for the euphoric effects caused by THC element.  What is often overlooked is the other aspect of CBD.  This little by product of the bud being exposed to sunlight actually addresses directly pain, and spascity.  To such a high degree that CBD is actually being distilled separately now for children with seizures in Europe.  In most cases some of these kids whom lived with micro tremor seizures by the 100's are being reduced to single digit episodes some even going days without one.  For the technical jargon talk here ya go.

Cannabidiol or (CBD) occurs in many strains, at low levels, <1 15="" as="" be="" by="" can="" cannabinoid="" cases="" cbd-rich="" cbd="" dominant="" high="" in="" nbsp="" opular="" rare="" strains="" the="" weight.="">4% CBD) include Sour Tsunami, Harlequin and Cannatonic.
  • It can provide relief for chronic pain due to muscle spasticity, convulsions and
    inflammation.  Offering relief for patients with MS, Fibromyalgia and Epilepsy.
  • Some researchers feel it provides effective relief from anxiety-related disorders.
  • CBD has also been shown to inhibit cancer cell growth when injected into breast and brain tumors in combination with THC.
      Now here is where things get sticky.  This will come as no surprise to some.  There are a lot of people who use medical marijuana as an excuse to get high.  They really could care less about the pain relieving/medical uses and instead want the highest THC producing element they can get because high CBD strains do not get you "high".  As such it is extremely hard even at legitimate medical dispensaries to find high CBD strains.  However to those of us with MS, Cancer, and even Parkinson’s (yes this is a front-line treatment in Sweden and has shown remarkable results)  all it takes is a day of having your life less miserable to see the effects.  You see high CBD infused marijuana can actually allow people to function WITHOUT walking around in a haze.  Under a hybrid known as Skunk Haze B A 42% CBD strain of Marijuana I get almost no buzz, I don't get the munchies and I actually think the worst thing I have ever done  under its influence was clean the garage or plant some stuff outside.  A few sessions in the garage and I sleep through any euphoric effects and wake up the next day able to get around pretty well.  
      This is not a cure all mind you.  It does not 100% alleviate the pain or tremors.  But it does take them down by such a great extent, and its effects will continue for the better part of 24 hours.  That is right, 10 minutes or so out in my garage twice a night is the average and with very few exceptions, I have no need to revisit.  Nor do I.  Only on the worst days does my wife see me going out there to take a treatment as I call it during daytime.  I think I can still count on one hand the number of times that has happened.  I used Marijuana to treat my pain post op refusing pain meds for a hernia repair and when I had a tooth pulled out.  My jaw was broken from a fall last summer and I had very little idea until it had reached the point of effecting my tooth.  It does not make you numb.  Not only that, But I have been able to halve my dose of baclofen, get off my blood pressure med (my blood pressure was up due to constant pain) reduce my insulin use and reduce my fatigue medication because most of the time I actually get great sleep.  
      This is becoming a hot topic.  I think many of us sense that within our lifetime Marijuana will be legalized on a federal level.  As people wake up and realize most of Big Pharms claims were as fictitious as some of the books on my bookshelves, I pray they will also keep close watch on how it is brought to the market.  Do not let the Marlboro's and Pfizer's of the world get in there and corrupt something that could do a lot of good.  If you see your state moving towards legalization make sure that the medical side of it is at the forefront.  Get involved.  Do not let the good time this plant can be provide cloud over the extremely positive effects it can have if it is raised in the right circumstances.  My biggest problem now is calling around to the 14 dispensaries in my area to find just one that actually carries "medical" Marijuana.  It does make me mad when I walk in and its a bunch of 20 somethings without a care in the world there for a good time, and I get scoffed at for asking which bud has the highest CBD content.  
       So there is my take on my reasons for using medical marijuana.  I really do see a lot of hope for it but I just pray humanities nature to take something good and squeeze it for all its worth does not ruin what could be a healthy positive alternative to a lot of the heavy opiate problems we have here.  My biggest concern was addiction, however, thus far I have gone weeks during good periods without even having the slightest urge to go out there.  I think the only gateway Marijuana has led me to was the gateway of realizing I needed less snacky foods around to help with self control urges.  I really don't feel bad about a late night munchie session of grapes or apple slices.  It is all about responsible use.  Looks like all the stoners I scoffed at in high school really were on to something after all.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

        I am writing what will seem today like a very scattered series of thoughts or instances.  In part its because I don't know that I ever intended this to be read.  It has been written in part for almost a year, and it has since changed quite a bit as the situation changed. Blogging can often be a very therapeutic way to express your inner most thoughts.  The downside of course being that realizing those thoughts are present can often be as disturbing to you as it is to people who might read it.  However I think if we keep things bottled up what can start as a stray thought can often lead to darker periods of self doubt and make a simple thought turn into a slight obsession.  Now if you think I am going to reveal some dark secret, sorry I do not have anything all that exciting.  But I will admit 2013-2014 has been a very turbulent time for me.  As my MS has progressed I think at some point a part of me has started giving up a bit on the future.  Like a mountain ground down over time by the elements disease has a way of grinding even the happiest person down over time.  When simple actions become a challenge, and you find yourself asking for help more then you would like, its hard not to give in and give up.
      I even have to admit for the first time in my life, I began to have those kind of thoughts that no one should ever have.  "Is my life worth living?",  "Am I really making my families life better or worse for being around?", I even began to question my relationships with family and friends.  I think my final warning sign that something was wrong came when I began to realize that all I really wanted was to be alone.  I sat in my bedroom, at 1:00 PM in the afternoon knowing my wife would leave to get our kids, had been working all day and I had done absolutely nothing positive the entire day other then feel sorry for myself.  Normally this sort of self awareness of my own self pity party would be catalyst I needed to make me mad enough at myself to get up and get moving.
      In today's world its easier on men I think.  Our father's were never allowed to show "feelings" sadness depression.  Of course they did, but it was interpreted differently and normally their wives or loved ones bore the true punishment of suffering with someone whom refused to seek any sort of treatment, or did not even know there were options.  It was not okay back then to be sad, or to be less then the ideal example of a manly man.  Thankfully these days while some would say we have softened too much (a sentiment I can sort of agree to) There are resources in place now to make it easier and less ego bruising (lets face it men's egos account for a lot of problems) for men to seek answers and find hope.
       First off, one of my problems was that the VA had been raising my dose of prozac for the purposes of energy production due to MS fatigue syndrome.  The downside was they pushed it up a level where it was actually having a psychoactive effect on me and my levels were way out of whack.  The doctors of course apologized profusely but warned me that as I reduced the prozac it could also have some side effects of its own as I came down off the manic depressive wave of fun I had been riding mistakenly for 3 years.   As I rode the roller coaster of emotions, I have to admit once again my confidence went to an all new low.   I bought books to read, comics to collect, bought gaming things.  Nothing seemed to be able to fill the void of this total emptiness I felt inside.  I tried to talk with my wife, but she and I on some things are wired entirely differently, which is great in my situations as I believe it allows us to come to a decision that is both rational but still compassionate instead of being all the way to one extreme or the other (hers being the rational mine being the bleeding heart)  I talked with my parents some about it, but frankly their plate is also extremely full with their own trials with my grandmother whom is suffering from medical issues as well.  Often when your feeling useless the last thing you want to do is put more issues on people you can clearly see our burdened already.  Anyone who knows my parents, knows they would give the shirts off their backs to anyone whom truly needed help.  I have watched them care for elderly friends, family and neighbors when no one else would and my parents never gave it a second thought.  They do it quietly, humbly and without thought of payback or gain.  I watched my father and mother care for people who all but spit in their face, and yet they never once quit on them.  This is the blood that flows in my veins as well.  It has to mean something more then just bad hair genes and slightly raised chance of obesity. (We Bishops come a little stocky)
       Then one night as I sat there fretting about money, fretting about my children, and then moving on to fretting about why I bought something on Amazon, it hit me.  I needed to grow the !@#&* up again.  My wife present me with the first opportunity.  As we were deciding what projects we would divvy up our income tax return to, she brought up my credit card use.  While I followed the guidelines of not exceeding half the credit cards worth never maxed things out, I still charged a bunch of stuff that while nice was by no means a need and certainly not worth paying interest on.  I had allowed myself to subscribe to the american symptom of Right NOW.  I admitted tearfully to my stupidity paid them off and chopped them up, opting to keep one just to keep revolving credit going for my credit rating and pay it off slowly but still make double payments to eat the interest down.  Instantly, though it had nothing to do with my health this gigantic soul crushing weight came off my shoulders.  I felt horrible that I had in essence been robbing my family of some income, and it had just been grinding away at me for months and months.  
       Next I began looking around my home. We had a TON of cool stuff to do that we never did.  We just kept getting more cool stuff.  Once again we had hit another of the American flaws.  The need to have the latest and greatest without really even using the older thing.  I have been pondering this a lot lately.  I have 20 or so Xbox 360 games sitting on a shelf.  I have played some of them less then 30 minutes at best.  Yet, my son and I sat there obsessing over one game or another for this reason or that.  But we never played them.  So I made a promise to myself to start doing things more with the kids.  I also took note that my CONSTANT MMORPG game switching was out of control.  I had sometimes went between 5 games in the space of a month.  NO more I told myself.  I play WoW with my family now and a few friends and just stick to non MMO games for other activities.  I am about 2 weeks in to this.  I will admit the pull of new games on the horizon is strong, BUT I am really gonna spend time gaming more efficiently.  Not let it consume, as its easy to do when your somewhat disabled with free time, and put it back in the leisure zone.  I also decided about some other things.  Miniature painting has been very therapeutic for me as it engages my artistic side, keeps me busy and is time consuming, plus at the end you have a finished product you can be proud of.
        I guess this whole blog has just been an example of one man's inner thoughts as he struggles to identify small changes he can make to better his life.  I would never suggest I was ever at a suicidal place but I was certainly in a very black spot for a while.  I think every human being needs to have some sense of worth and unless your just a total mooch very few people can tolerate feeling completely dependent on others to accomplish things.  It is hard to ask for help but its worse to ask for forgiveness because you were to stubborn to ask for help and it spilled over and hurt the people you care about.  I also cannot stress enough how important it is that we do not trust our medical systems to be as concerned with our welfare as we are.  They see millions of patients with millions of issues, its VERY easy for you to become lost in the shuffle and years to go by with you taking something at a level its not intended.  I am an ex nurse paramedic, so there REALLY was no excuse but I got to a point with so many health issues going on that I just let others guide me along.  Your health is your responsibility, do not trust someone who sees you once every 6 months to know the ins and outs of what you are taking and what other doctors are doing even if they are in the same institution and office.  Frankly doctors don't have time, they overwork the 1 nurse they might have in their office for chart review and the rest of the staff are glorified paper pushers.  Really look around any doctors office and you will see what I am talking about.  The days of the provincial doctor who can sit down discuss your life your family and your health all in one are gone.  Now its a frantic treadmill of HMO forced 15 minute appointments, no follow through and lets try this because its all insurance will LET us do.
      Look out for yourself and don't be afraid to engage in a little self reflection.  It can open up new doors and restore new hope.
       

       

Monday, January 28, 2013

Don't call me a pirate!

Well about 2 months ago I began losing the vision in my left eye.  It was not a gradual thing, I just woke up and it was like I had a cloud of cotton balls blocking off about 80% of my vision.  I was still able to differentiate light and dark, but only a small part in the center was actually like normal vision.  To make matters worse, for whatever reason, if I was around a lot of movement it made me nauseous.  Going back to my medic training I started experimenting to see if it was visual or something else that was causing the nausea.  Sure enough, it was an after effect of the vision loss. By covering the left eye up, I was fine nausea wise and able to go about my day.

With MS, every day can be a challenge.  Sometimes I feel like my life is a Star Trek episode as I boldly wonder what the hell else is gonna go on.  I refrain from saying "go wrong" , as well, I am too stubborn to think there is a circumstance I can't adapt to.  My wife and kids are very supportive even some of my friends as well.  They know stuff is gonna happen and they don't really make a big deal about it.  I feel like if they can do it, well by God I can do it too. 

I stopped driving for about a month and half, afraid with how to deal with this.  My right eye still sees 20/20, and whats left of my left eye does as well, but I have to wear an eye patch.  (on a side note parents it is NOT okay for your kids to run around calling someone who has vision loss a pirate over and over and you not correct them.  I get that they are small, I do not blame the children.  I blame the parents that can;t take 5 seconds to correct their child! I remember my parents firmly "Do not point your finger at people or talk about them openly its very rude!:)

I stopped working for the comic store I help out at a bit because frankly I was scared I would not be able to hold up my previous level of help and my wife is so busy with school and her own job and running the kids around it was next to impossible to toss something extra on.  This really knocked me on my butt.  I felt like a certain amount of freedom was taken away from me.  I felt like even more of my manhood was being taken away.

Folks, sometimes you just got to have your pity party.  I think a lot of times we have difficulty as men letting our egos drop out of the picture for a moment.  That is why so many old vets become bitter old men.  We never learn to adapt like we should and instead feel like no one will understand and burrow down in ourselves, miserable at the the thought that we have lost something and incapable of touching our emotions to deal with it.  Sadly, I was in this spot.

The great thing about medical marijuana is its propensity for making one get in their own head.  To really reflect.  Most people dismiss but it is a very real state depending on the strain.  Being a MMJ user means most of the euphoric effects no longer happen to me.  Honestly it just reduces my awareness of pain, reduces my spasms and most importantly wipes out the neuropathic spasms in my head also known as icepick headaches.  It is was during a particularly bad icepick that went on for about 6 hours (to the uneducated motrin, tylenol advil ,these will not even touch icepick headaches because its actually the damaged nerves spasming sending signals out. Most conventional migraine treatments of the nonnarcotic type will not even work.  And well the opiates, they are continuing treadmill in that you have to keep increasing the dose in order for the relief to keep working, leading to many other issues down the road.

Anyway, I digress, It was during this moment of intense self reflection, that I stumbled on my own ego and kicked it to the curb.  I am a father, it is my job to show my children that even through the greatest adversity we have to keep trying.  How could I possibly give up like this and sit around feeling sorry for myself. Sure, I was hiding it from my children well enough, but at some point it was going to come out.  I have seen this happen way too many times in other people.  So I took a nice long gimp at 1:00 AM around the block and determined that the Chris that re-entered my home was going to be the Chris who would deal with things.

I have started driving locally again, I have picked back up working for the comic store and I even committed to hosting Lego Club for the school every week instead of every 2 weeks.  It is important with any critical illness to still keep goals.  I think the human spirit is very much tied to our physical well being.  Practice makes perfect is so valid and the only way to pull yourself out of a funk is to practice not being in one.  That does NOT mean that you don't deal with your problems.  Running away or hiding from things never makes a situation better it always catches up.  You just shelf it in a place where you still know its there but where you can keep an eye on it and take it on and off the shelf as you need to.  A problem is a problem and needs to be solved ,BUT very few problems can be solved by fixating on them.  There is no easy fix, instead there is coping.  And isn't that what this world is about after all? Coping and patience?

Sorry its been awhile I tend to write a couple blogs then feel like this or that isn't valid.  Just know that if you are out there coping with MS like me, you are not alone.  We can be strong together and if anyone ever has questions for me regarding MS I am more then willing to give what I know or just listen if that is what is needed.

Until next time, Keep your chin up
Chris

Saturday, May 12, 2012

My little secret!

I have been hiding a secret for a very long time now.  My parents, family, and wife all know, but it is something that I have felt very mixed up about for a while.  I am one of those dirty Medical Marijuana users.  I feel due to recent events that have entered my life (my town has decided that the local dispensaries are eyesores, even though if you have ever been to my town they are honestly some of the best looking businesses in the town both appearance wise, and well cleanliness wise as well.)

I attended the council meeting where Council members (who have been REAPING tax profit in from at least one of the dispensaries if not all three for 4 years,) have now decided after 4 years has transpired that they don't want to be known as a medical marijuana town.  I mean after all, being the proud town with 3 gas stations, one of which is at the east entrance of our town and greets people coming in with iron bars on windows and meth pipes sold as incense burners.  Our most recognized spot is a biker bar (which has amazing burgers) and we're known for mine carts and a bargain grocery store that sells dented and expired goods at a low price to people who either don't speak English, or just cant afford to go elsewhere. I digress of course, the point being they said the dispensaries were entered by riff raff and people who do not look sick.  The general public was forbidden to speak because it was a work session, but the place was packed with patients that despite being riff raff (thanks Pro Tem Mayor Joe Baker for that lovely term) all somehow looked no difference appearance wise then the people sitting on the council.

Multiple Sclerosis causes several issues.  The first and most powerful one is of course, the way it slowly but surely reduces your mobility.  You suffer micro spasms, extreme spacisity (feeling stiff like a board like you just got done working out after not doing it for 10 years, fell asleep, and woke up to the muscle fatigue.) and weakness in the limbs as they stop responding to you.  Then comes the pain...oh ya called neuropathy it will start as a slight burning, pins and needle feeling, like your leg is asleep with a bad sunburn....and then it gets more and more intense over time.  It does not go away.  You can hit this sucker with any over the counter pain med you like but most will not even touch it.  The usual drug of choice.....morphine!  In various different forms morphine or opiate are used to treat severed pain by depressing the CNS system.  They are extremely addictive, and have this country in a stranglehold as they are prescribed like candy for just about anything anymore.

I was faced with the choice of how to manage this.  I sucked it up for  4 and 1/2 years, but when I couldn't sleep regularly (MS also likes to give you long bouts with insomnia as it activates your bodies immuno system causing endorphins to pump for what it percieves is to help fight an infection.  By the way the infection just happens to be your brain and spine its nibbling on) After talking with several doctors about my issues, One suggested that while the VA could not and would not prescribe medical marijuana, there are many doctors that would for MS on the civilian side and it was actually being seen worldwide as a drug of choice for MS patients, for if taken correctly it could actually give energy back, help with spascity and the effects that help with MS related symptoms extend well beyond the duration of the euphoric effects.  I talked with my wife about it, and still gave it a few more months.

Finally I went to a Neurologist outside the VA whom confirmed a lot of what I had read, and while he wasnt willing to "prescribe it due to the negative stigma but would gladly give me a script for hydromorphone"  Gee, thanks Doc, you rattle off the reasons to do it then offer me liver failure, renal failure and addiction in a bottle.  Anyway, I went to another doctor who wrote the presciption up, I sent it off with a request to the state and got my lovely red card authorizing me to pick up medical marijuana.  I tryed vaporizing it, which was alright, but I began to have severe craving to smoke, something I fought tooth and nail to quit years ago. I have tryed to avoid smoking it as A) I have children and B) it reeks and finally C) I dont care what anyone says inhaling anything into your lungs besides air is probably a bad idea. Tar is Tar.  So on to the edibles route.

I can honestly say, I had never touched a drug besides alcohol and cigarettes in 35 years up to this point.  I know a lot of my friends of course had, but I still felt like as a father, I had to be very careful how I approached this.  Well, frankly, I treat it like any other medication, it is far removed from being within my kids reach, (I stay away from refrigerated versions of edibles for that reason), and low and behold it works wonders.  I would not call it a wonder drug BUT, I can move around again.  Often without my cane crutch, (I still have to use my Brace for my right leg because I have foot drop now), but I was actually able to go outside and do things again.  The tremors would all but stop, and the pain oh the pain would go to a dull roar.  The best part is once I figured out the dose that worked for me, I got sleep...oh my god glorious sleep.

My whole family noticed a big difference in me.  Even through relapses, it has helped to shorten the span of the relapse without my having to get a hefty dose of steroids.  All in all, I feel like I got the best possible sort of life I could have back for the condition I am in.  Worse case scenario, I might eat that leftover sandwich in the fridge, but other then that I sit and watch tv with Wendy, write, read (I must admit books are amazing whilst a little euphoric) or play games.  Only on my very worst days do I use the mini vaporizer with Sativa to get a little pick me up for doing outside stuff.  My need to nap has waxed and waned but over all I have been much better about not needing to nap as much.

Still I was feeling bad.  I was legal in the state of colorado.  I went to a legitimate dispensary which looks more like a walgreens then a head shop, and you would be hard pressed to ever know I used it unless I told you.  My children know I use it and why, but of course have never seen me do it.  I had to be open and honest about it with those close to me, because well, it still is a drug, and even though I can say after almost a year and half using it, I can go days without having to take a nibble on anything edible wise.  I don't feel I need it, (not like I use to wake up at 1 in the morning needing a cigarette, realizing I was out and driving to a gas station just for a smoke) It doesn't control me it just gives me a measure of my life back. 

So why talk about it here, publically? Because I want to help folks understand that this medicine can be used non recreationally and for good purposes.  I won't go on a tangent about the many uses of the Cannabis plant beyond medicine.  Leave it safe to say, Its a real shame more people with extreme pain issues and mobility problems don't have access to this.  I intend to go in and fight this Monday at the council meeting to ban our dispensaries.  My Dispensary, Dacono Meds is a clean, professional environment.  Its not a head shop with some stoned out 20 year old behind the counter talking about his bong of choice.  This medication in conjunction with Yoga actually works wonders on returning lost flexibility due to MS related problems.

Just remember, love it or hate it, if its helping someone to regain their life, there has to be something positive about it.  I am all for regulation, control and keeping the MMJ business clean cut and clear.  Please card me, Please verify that I am not over using, Please treat it like any other controlled substance.  And finally, Please treat me as a patient and not a criminal.  Yes there are people with red cards who don't need them its a fact.  but that total is not even a fraction of the people with prescription pills that do not need them and abuse them. 

So there ya go, the clean cut boy from brown county has joined the legion of people who have used marijuana in their life.  I do not feel bad about the choice I have made any longer.  I will fight tooth and nail to keep our dispensary open here in Dacono.  Because frankly without it, I will have to search long and hard for another dispensary that is as professional as this one. 

Keeping my chin up
Chris