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Michael Szeliga remembers clearly the morning he was awakened by something that would all but ruin his quality of life for the next eight years. He was 50ish and worked for the Postal Service. His wife, Peggy, taught fourth grade in West Warwick. They had two adult daughters. Michael woke that day with the worst pain he'd ever experienced. It went from his right shoulder to his hand. Moving the arm, even slightly, was so excruciating he at one point began to cry. His hand had tremors he couldn't stop. Despite it being on the right side, he feared a heart attack, so Peggy helped him into their Volvo and they drove from their North Kingstown home to Miriam Hospital.
It was early on a Sunday morning in 2005, the start of an ordeal that would take him through nearly a decade of painkillers, including OxyContin and methadone. Ultimately, it led him to a drug he never expected to turn to, especially as a 60-year-old grandfather of three who continued to soldier on with the Postal Service – marijuana. He's been using medical marijuana for six months so far, and it has changed his life. Because of the stigma, he and Peggy kept it private until now, but a column I wrote so upset them it changed their minds. In the column, I said I supported legalization, but cautioned that in a small percentage of people with addiction issues, marijuana can be a gateway to hard drugs. I also said people who use it every day end up as fogged-out stoners.
Peggy Szeliga wrote me to say that with medical marijuana, it's the exact opposite. It helped her husband get off addictive painkillers. And various medicinal strains suppress pain without making the user high. Even though medical marijuana is now legal in Rhode Island, Peggy said it still puts a stigma on users, and my column made that worse. "We are typical citizens," she wrote. "Recent retirees – a former elementary school teacher, a former letter carrier, parents, grandparents, members in our community." She added: "All I ask is to be heard." That Sunday morning in 2005, the ER doctors at Miriam gave him strong meds, but he was still in agony. They sent him home with muscle relaxants and said if it continued, he should see a neurologist.
Michael describes the next few days like this: "Excruciating pain and tears. I was in a fetal position on the floor, literally. It was the only position that helped." The neurologist did an electromyogram, inserting a needle near his shoulder with electrical pulses. "That about sent me off the table," Michael recalled. The diagnosis was a rare condition called brachial plexopathy, where spinal nerves tracking through the shoulder malfunction. The cause can range from injury to autoimmune problems, though often, it's never known.
The neurologist prescribed physical therapy and Percocet, an opiate. Because Michael could barely lift with his arm, he transferred from letter carrier at the post office to management. The therapy helped only a little. The doctor tried heavier painkillers, including Oxycontin. After a year, Michael decided to go back to carrying. He felt it was the job he was meant for, and he didn't want to ask for disability. "I feel if I can get up in the morning," he said, "I should go to work. I wasn't going to rely on anyone else." But there was still pain. And right-hand tremors. At times, the doctor increased the painkiller dose, but the ache was still there. The side effects of fogginess weren't worth it. "And I was scared stiff of addiction," said Michael. So he took just enough and toughed it out. "He would do his job," Peggy recalled, "come home, sit in his chair and go to sleep. That's all he could handle." The doctor switched the drugs from time to time, trying other medications, including fentanyl and lidocaine patches. And they continued physical therapy. But the pain continued, too.
After a few years, said Peggy, Michael became depressed and was put on antidepressants. "He was up to nine pills in the morning and almost as many at night," Peggy recalled. They tried acupuncture and cortisone shots. Working became more and more difficult. Finally, a little more than a year ago, they went to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston for another opinion. A doctor there tried Neurontin to treat nerve pain. Yet still it persisted. Doctors finally suggested a big step – methadone. It made the pain bearable, but had difficult side effects. "It was a horrible drug for him," said Peggy, "but no way he could work without it." It caused him to lose 60 pounds, dropping to 155, a scrawny weight for a 6-footer. It also made Michael irritable and introverted. "The least little thing would make me angry," he said.
"The last year on methadone," said Peggy, "was the hardest of our marriage." The ordeal by now had lasted 7½ years. About eight months ago, a friend of Michael's who'd been having neck pain problems mentioned that he was using medicinal marijuana. Michael had last tried marijuana 40 years before, in college. But he was desperate. He managed to get hold of some through people they knew. Michael took a few puffs and almost right away, the right-hand tremors stopped. The pain improved, too. "I said, 'Wait a minute,' " recalled Michael. " 'What happened?' " A few hours later, the tremors resumed. He took a few more puffs. They stopped. He'd had the tremors for eight years. "The next morning," Michael said, "I called my doctor and said, 'Is this possible?' He said, 'Yes, it is.' " Michael and his wife decided to pursue it, but more officially. "Quite honestly," Peggy said, "we're too old to play the game of getting it on the street and wondering what you're getting."
But they didn't know where to start, so they asked the same friend, who told them about a "street fair" sponsored by the Rhode Island Patient Advocacy Coalition, which helps those in need of medical marijuana. The "fair" was in a Providence parking lot and had booths from various groups. The Szeligas got literature and a good lead: The B&B Medical Marijuana Evaluation Center in Warwick, the only such organization licensed by the Rhode Island Department of Health. Michael met with B&B, which considered him a good candidate for medical marijuana and referred him to a doctor able to prescribe. The doctor determined Michael was qualified. That was last June. But getting the drug was hardly automatic.
Neither the doctor nor B&B was able to hand it out. In fact, the Szeligas found they first needed to apply to the state for a photo-ID certifying Michael was entitled to possess the drug – in his case, 5 ounces a month. The license cost $200. It took two months for it to come through. Meanwhile, he continued working and relying on methadone for his pain. In August, he got the card. Now the Szeligas had to find out where to fill their prescription. For another $25, they were able to sign up with one of two state-run dispensaries. They decided to go to the Thomas C. Slater Compassion Center in Providence, coincidentally across from the main Providence Post Office. They found it to be a professional operation, but unavoidably, it had sections that reminded the Szeligas of a head shop, with displays of pipes.
Then they found one more surprise. Medical marijuana at the Slater Center cost between $15 and $17 a gram. There are 28 grams in an ounce. The Szeligas got two ounces at a cost of over $900, and it wasn't covered by their Blue Cross. Peggy said the street marijuana they'd bought – though only a small amount – priced out at about half that. "I felt sick to my stomach," Peggy recalled. But they felt they wanted to begin with the most official dispensary. The state allows patients to use up to two "compassion centers," and the Szeligas found a smaller second one that was state-licensed, though not state-run. The marijuana there cost half as much as at the Slater Center. But they had to pay the state another $200 to register there. The drug came in 3.5-gram glass jars and professionally packaged zip-lock bags. They've also bought a pipe and rolling papers. "Quite honestly," said Peggy, "it's one of the scariest things we've been through." She was referring not just to the process, but the lack of specifics on how to take the drug.
"It's the only prescription you'll ever get with no direction," said Peggy. "No dosing. No back information on it. No pamphlet that tells you what the side effects are." Michael said you have to just figure out how much you need and how often. For chronic pain, he said, the approach is often a few puffs a few times a day. And then there was the most unexpected twist. They hadn't realized that various medical marijuana strains contain little THC, the ingredient that makes users high. Michael chose a low-THC strain, one heavy in CBDs, which mute the pain. Peggy makes an analogy with cold drugs – some make you drowsy, some don't. Michael's didn't.
Beginning six months ago, he began smoking it daily. By then, he had begun the slow process of getting off methadone, which had caused classic withdrawal symptoms, including morning nausea that went for hours. "Your stomach's in your throat," he recalled. The medical marijuana cut back the nausea to only 10 minutes or so. It boosted his appetite and allowed him to gain back some weight. He got off methadone completely three weeks ago, in large part with the help of medical marijuana. It's now the main painkiller he uses. He says it takes the edge off in a way similar to Oxycontin, but unlike the Oxy, it doesn't make him loopy or sedated.
Although Michael seldom drinks, he equates the effect of his low-THC marijuana to having one beer. And there are no concerns about addiction. "This has been a lifesaver," Michael said. "And a marriage saver." But the couple has found the drug still has a stigma. Many people, she said, assume medical marijuana users can't help but end up like "stoners" who are constantly high. That's totally false, she said. "My husband is not someone who is sloppy of speech who sits around high," said Peggy. "You would have no way of knowing he uses marijuana." After I finished interviewing him, Michael mentioned he had "medicated" beforehand, and indeed, I picked up no signs. Still, Peggy worries what visiting friends might think if Michael steps out of the room and they pick up the scent of marijuana – and what their own three young grandchildren will think. And there's another big issue they hadn't thought about. Having turned 60 and put in a 28-year career, Michael just took normal retirement from the Postal Service. That gives the couple time to travel, but the marijuana makes it problematic – even impossible.
Michael's license is only good in Rhode Island and a few other states that accept it. One of those is Maine, where the Szeligas have grandchildren, but they can't legally drive through Massachusetts with their marijuana to get there. Since the couple want to be upfront, they also feel they'd need to tell any hotel, and they worry that could be a problem. And Peggy points out that because of federal law, it's illegal to bring it on a plane. There are no other medications, says Peggy, with such issues. "If you take marijuana," she said, "you have to hide somewhere; even if it's prescribed." She added pointedly to me: "And quite honestly, articles like yours make our lives harder." Any implication, she said, that people who smoke daily are "stoners" is harmful to medical marijuana patients. The Szeligas are private people by nature. Peggy said it took a lot of soul-searching to decide to discuss this publicly. She hopes their doing so will take away some of the stigma.
News Moderator - The General @ 420 MAGAZINE ®
Source: Providencejournal.com
Author: Mark Patinkin
Contact: Contact Us | Company | Providence Journal
Website: Mark Patinkin: R.I. man says medical marijuana has been a lifesaver | Mark Patinkin - Writers | Providence Journal
It was early on a Sunday morning in 2005, the start of an ordeal that would take him through nearly a decade of painkillers, including OxyContin and methadone. Ultimately, it led him to a drug he never expected to turn to, especially as a 60-year-old grandfather of three who continued to soldier on with the Postal Service – marijuana. He's been using medical marijuana for six months so far, and it has changed his life. Because of the stigma, he and Peggy kept it private until now, but a column I wrote so upset them it changed their minds. In the column, I said I supported legalization, but cautioned that in a small percentage of people with addiction issues, marijuana can be a gateway to hard drugs. I also said people who use it every day end up as fogged-out stoners.
Peggy Szeliga wrote me to say that with medical marijuana, it's the exact opposite. It helped her husband get off addictive painkillers. And various medicinal strains suppress pain without making the user high. Even though medical marijuana is now legal in Rhode Island, Peggy said it still puts a stigma on users, and my column made that worse. "We are typical citizens," she wrote. "Recent retirees – a former elementary school teacher, a former letter carrier, parents, grandparents, members in our community." She added: "All I ask is to be heard." That Sunday morning in 2005, the ER doctors at Miriam gave him strong meds, but he was still in agony. They sent him home with muscle relaxants and said if it continued, he should see a neurologist.
Michael describes the next few days like this: "Excruciating pain and tears. I was in a fetal position on the floor, literally. It was the only position that helped." The neurologist did an electromyogram, inserting a needle near his shoulder with electrical pulses. "That about sent me off the table," Michael recalled. The diagnosis was a rare condition called brachial plexopathy, where spinal nerves tracking through the shoulder malfunction. The cause can range from injury to autoimmune problems, though often, it's never known.
The neurologist prescribed physical therapy and Percocet, an opiate. Because Michael could barely lift with his arm, he transferred from letter carrier at the post office to management. The therapy helped only a little. The doctor tried heavier painkillers, including Oxycontin. After a year, Michael decided to go back to carrying. He felt it was the job he was meant for, and he didn't want to ask for disability. "I feel if I can get up in the morning," he said, "I should go to work. I wasn't going to rely on anyone else." But there was still pain. And right-hand tremors. At times, the doctor increased the painkiller dose, but the ache was still there. The side effects of fogginess weren't worth it. "And I was scared stiff of addiction," said Michael. So he took just enough and toughed it out. "He would do his job," Peggy recalled, "come home, sit in his chair and go to sleep. That's all he could handle." The doctor switched the drugs from time to time, trying other medications, including fentanyl and lidocaine patches. And they continued physical therapy. But the pain continued, too.
After a few years, said Peggy, Michael became depressed and was put on antidepressants. "He was up to nine pills in the morning and almost as many at night," Peggy recalled. They tried acupuncture and cortisone shots. Working became more and more difficult. Finally, a little more than a year ago, they went to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston for another opinion. A doctor there tried Neurontin to treat nerve pain. Yet still it persisted. Doctors finally suggested a big step – methadone. It made the pain bearable, but had difficult side effects. "It was a horrible drug for him," said Peggy, "but no way he could work without it." It caused him to lose 60 pounds, dropping to 155, a scrawny weight for a 6-footer. It also made Michael irritable and introverted. "The least little thing would make me angry," he said.
"The last year on methadone," said Peggy, "was the hardest of our marriage." The ordeal by now had lasted 7½ years. About eight months ago, a friend of Michael's who'd been having neck pain problems mentioned that he was using medicinal marijuana. Michael had last tried marijuana 40 years before, in college. But he was desperate. He managed to get hold of some through people they knew. Michael took a few puffs and almost right away, the right-hand tremors stopped. The pain improved, too. "I said, 'Wait a minute,' " recalled Michael. " 'What happened?' " A few hours later, the tremors resumed. He took a few more puffs. They stopped. He'd had the tremors for eight years. "The next morning," Michael said, "I called my doctor and said, 'Is this possible?' He said, 'Yes, it is.' " Michael and his wife decided to pursue it, but more officially. "Quite honestly," Peggy said, "we're too old to play the game of getting it on the street and wondering what you're getting."
But they didn't know where to start, so they asked the same friend, who told them about a "street fair" sponsored by the Rhode Island Patient Advocacy Coalition, which helps those in need of medical marijuana. The "fair" was in a Providence parking lot and had booths from various groups. The Szeligas got literature and a good lead: The B&B Medical Marijuana Evaluation Center in Warwick, the only such organization licensed by the Rhode Island Department of Health. Michael met with B&B, which considered him a good candidate for medical marijuana and referred him to a doctor able to prescribe. The doctor determined Michael was qualified. That was last June. But getting the drug was hardly automatic.
Neither the doctor nor B&B was able to hand it out. In fact, the Szeligas found they first needed to apply to the state for a photo-ID certifying Michael was entitled to possess the drug – in his case, 5 ounces a month. The license cost $200. It took two months for it to come through. Meanwhile, he continued working and relying on methadone for his pain. In August, he got the card. Now the Szeligas had to find out where to fill their prescription. For another $25, they were able to sign up with one of two state-run dispensaries. They decided to go to the Thomas C. Slater Compassion Center in Providence, coincidentally across from the main Providence Post Office. They found it to be a professional operation, but unavoidably, it had sections that reminded the Szeligas of a head shop, with displays of pipes.
Then they found one more surprise. Medical marijuana at the Slater Center cost between $15 and $17 a gram. There are 28 grams in an ounce. The Szeligas got two ounces at a cost of over $900, and it wasn't covered by their Blue Cross. Peggy said the street marijuana they'd bought – though only a small amount – priced out at about half that. "I felt sick to my stomach," Peggy recalled. But they felt they wanted to begin with the most official dispensary. The state allows patients to use up to two "compassion centers," and the Szeligas found a smaller second one that was state-licensed, though not state-run. The marijuana there cost half as much as at the Slater Center. But they had to pay the state another $200 to register there. The drug came in 3.5-gram glass jars and professionally packaged zip-lock bags. They've also bought a pipe and rolling papers. "Quite honestly," said Peggy, "it's one of the scariest things we've been through." She was referring not just to the process, but the lack of specifics on how to take the drug.
"It's the only prescription you'll ever get with no direction," said Peggy. "No dosing. No back information on it. No pamphlet that tells you what the side effects are." Michael said you have to just figure out how much you need and how often. For chronic pain, he said, the approach is often a few puffs a few times a day. And then there was the most unexpected twist. They hadn't realized that various medical marijuana strains contain little THC, the ingredient that makes users high. Michael chose a low-THC strain, one heavy in CBDs, which mute the pain. Peggy makes an analogy with cold drugs – some make you drowsy, some don't. Michael's didn't.
Beginning six months ago, he began smoking it daily. By then, he had begun the slow process of getting off methadone, which had caused classic withdrawal symptoms, including morning nausea that went for hours. "Your stomach's in your throat," he recalled. The medical marijuana cut back the nausea to only 10 minutes or so. It boosted his appetite and allowed him to gain back some weight. He got off methadone completely three weeks ago, in large part with the help of medical marijuana. It's now the main painkiller he uses. He says it takes the edge off in a way similar to Oxycontin, but unlike the Oxy, it doesn't make him loopy or sedated.
Although Michael seldom drinks, he equates the effect of his low-THC marijuana to having one beer. And there are no concerns about addiction. "This has been a lifesaver," Michael said. "And a marriage saver." But the couple has found the drug still has a stigma. Many people, she said, assume medical marijuana users can't help but end up like "stoners" who are constantly high. That's totally false, she said. "My husband is not someone who is sloppy of speech who sits around high," said Peggy. "You would have no way of knowing he uses marijuana." After I finished interviewing him, Michael mentioned he had "medicated" beforehand, and indeed, I picked up no signs. Still, Peggy worries what visiting friends might think if Michael steps out of the room and they pick up the scent of marijuana – and what their own three young grandchildren will think. And there's another big issue they hadn't thought about. Having turned 60 and put in a 28-year career, Michael just took normal retirement from the Postal Service. That gives the couple time to travel, but the marijuana makes it problematic – even impossible.
Michael's license is only good in Rhode Island and a few other states that accept it. One of those is Maine, where the Szeligas have grandchildren, but they can't legally drive through Massachusetts with their marijuana to get there. Since the couple want to be upfront, they also feel they'd need to tell any hotel, and they worry that could be a problem. And Peggy points out that because of federal law, it's illegal to bring it on a plane. There are no other medications, says Peggy, with such issues. "If you take marijuana," she said, "you have to hide somewhere; even if it's prescribed." She added pointedly to me: "And quite honestly, articles like yours make our lives harder." Any implication, she said, that people who smoke daily are "stoners" is harmful to medical marijuana patients. The Szeligas are private people by nature. Peggy said it took a lot of soul-searching to decide to discuss this publicly. She hopes their doing so will take away some of the stigma.
News Moderator - The General @ 420 MAGAZINE ®
Source: Providencejournal.com
Author: Mark Patinkin
Contact: Contact Us | Company | Providence Journal
Website: Mark Patinkin: R.I. man says medical marijuana has been a lifesaver | Mark Patinkin - Writers | Providence Journal
