My Introduction to CBD Oil and Vaping: Part TWO

Greetings, Internet friends and neighbors, and family members of various subsets!

This is PART TWO of My Introduction to CBD Oil and Vaping. If you haven't read Part One, then I recommend you do so now.
Also, I said in Part One that I would post this 'tomorrow,' and I actually had almost all of it written, BUT I realized I needed to expand and extend the transition, and then...I don't know. Life.

So, at the end of Part One, I said that in early 2013 a (relatively) new pain treatment gave me another chance at life. That treatment, the Butrans patch, managed my chronic pain from the auto-immune condition I have called ankylosing spondylitis. It does so without goofing my head, putting me to sleep, causing constipation, and it's administered through a weekly patch I stick on my arm. It's a much, MUCH smaller dose of medication; it's so small, that it has NEVER shown up on  ANY of the drug screens I've taken over the last six years.

Most of you will just accept my word for it: the patch works for me. If you need some data to back that up, I've got the citations and the computations, and I can send them to you. Just make the request in the comments.

Now, the Butrans patch ONLY replaced the 120 mg dose of long-acting morphine. For breakthrough pain, I WAS being prescribed (3) 15 mg tablets of morphine per day; but since I was refusing morphine, they gave me (initially) a scrip for (4) 10 mg hydrocodone + 325 acetaminophen per day, later decreased at my request to 3/day. So, for the past six years, almost every day, I have taken 30 mg of hydrocodone and 975 mg of acetaminophen. 

I looked for other options, but they just didn't exist for me. A couple of years ago, I started walking regularly, and I've lost about fifty pounds, and that helped A LOT. It's a two-edged sword, though; sometimes the exercise triggers a pain event, and I'm shut down, possibly for days. I know walking in a swimming pool would help, but for some reason/reasons, none of which are money, I just can't seem to make that happen. 

I keep my eyes and ears open for drug trials, but nothing has come up that fits. I even tried acupuncture, just because, and experienced no benefit. I've had spinal injections, and radio-frequency treatments (that's where they burn off a nerve), and I get no lasting improvement.

And I just kept on truckin.' 

Until about six weeks ago, when I began to experience  VERY different pain than I am accustomed to; it came in the form of sharp, piercing pain in the back, striking in different locations. Ice-picks. EXCEEDINGLY localized. Not related to any injury or event I could recall.

 I used lidocaine in an ointment or a patch, sucked it up, and waited it out, while trying to carry on life as well as possible. The pain frequently is in an area I can't reach, so I taught my kids and grandkids to paint Papa's back with the big fat pen. Three-year-old grandson Eliott LOVES painting Papa's back!

It wasn't going away, so I finally sought help, from my pain clinic, and I made my first appointment with a chiropractor in 12 years.

I was flabbergasted when two different health professionals, from OPPOSITE ends of the spectrum in terms of philosophies and practices, suggested that I might want to try something called CBD oil for some of the breakthrough pain I was experiencing. 

I had been prepped, a very little bit, for the recommendation. An artist friend asked me if I would do some copy for some websites he is developing for a hemp farm, which was just recently given federal and state approval. In researching it, I discovered that not all of those plants are the same; there are some that produce THC, which is the chemical that gets you high when you smoke pot, and there are others that produce little or no THC. Those latter are the plants receiving approval now, and the fibers are used in making rope, clothing, and paper; and from the other parts of the plant, they extract this substance referred to as CBD oil.

Now, CBD oil has been legal to own and use in Georgia for a bit; however, they forgot that to own it and use it, it needs to be produced. So, this year, the legislature is fixing the law so that you can manufacture, sell, and transport it. THIS IS NOT POT! This is an extract that has less than 0.3% THC in it; you could smoke a ton of it, and not get a buzz. And the oil has been demonstrated to be of great benefit to patients with a seizure disorder, and anecdotal data shows it's good for....everything.

Please note: any time I hear that a substance is good for everything, I immediately think it's not good for anything. That's true, whether we are talking about soap, tools, or plant extract. If you over-promote it, then I'm sitting on the Skeptic Couch; extravagant claims require extravagant proof.

And that proof simply is NOT available. Why, you ask? Well, that's an excellent question. And the answer is based on all of the run-off from The War on Drugs. The War on Drugs says pot is evil, it will hook you, it supports terrorism, it has no medical use; and because the DEA classifies it as a Schedule I drug, it's (practically) impossible to do any research on it. Schedule I drugs, including heroin, LSD, and ecstasy, are defined as drugs with no currently accepted medical use and a high potential for abuse. And up to VERY recently, that was the final word.

No longer. The non-THC CBD oil has been gradually introduced, and ANECDOTAL evidence supports certain health benefits. However, the oil has NOT been accepted as a food supplement by the FDA, and it's CERTAINLY not a medicine, so the companies that produce it are not making any claims.  The claims seem to come by word of mouth, whether technologically boosted or not.

And last week, the medical professional at the pain clinic told me that it HAD been effective for a LOT of people, and there was no research to support that, because the government won't authorize it; and that I would just have to find a combination of method and amount that gave me results. She told me that vaping got the medication in my system quickest, but that using the sublingual tincture had a longer lasting impact. She warned me not to go cheap, and assured me that this would NOT cause me to fail the drug screens performed on me randomly. And I had to get her to repeat all that, because I was stunned the first time through, and I needed to take notes.

The next day, I had an appointment with a chiropractor, the first time I'd seen one in at least 12 years. Before 2007,  I went regularly, the combination of adjustments and massage gave me great relief from back pain. However, in 2007, things collapsed for me, and I stopped going. 

This chiropractor, a dear, sweet kindly grandmother-type, with SUPER-POWER strength in her hands, ALSO recommended I try CBD oil for pain. And then, she patted my shoulder and spoke kindly to me when I burst into tears. She heard me out, and gave me the EMOTIONAL assurances I needed to try this.

You see, I had one minor and two major concerns about the use of the oil. 

The minor concern had to do with the legality of the treatment. In Georgia, that's a strange situation at the moment, because it IS legal to have and use CBD; it's not currently legal to sell it, produce it, or transport it. A bill to legalize the entire process passed the Georgia House earlier this month and is now in the Senate committee. 

Major concern #1: I have 31+ years sober, and I fought a pretty good fight to get here.  I don't want to do ANYTHING that would jeopardize my sobriety.

Major concern #2: Back when I was an idiot, in the late 1960's into the 1970's, I DID try to smoke pot, and it was not a good experience for me.  It made me psychotic and paranoid, and the effects lasted LONG after any intoxication wore off. I don't want to do ANYTHING that would jeopardize my sanity.

What else might happen? I've also experienced some degree of social stigma in the past, because there are those who reject the idea that, as an alcoholic,  I use narcotics for pain management. (I used to be one of those, before MY pain became an issue.)
I also know that there are those who don't like my hair, my beard, my interracial family, my motorcycle, my accumulation of sharp pointy things and boomsticks, and the fact that I have two cats and no dogs. I'm not worried about that; meepers gotta meep. 

But I based my decision on GOOD information from the two medical professionals who suggested this might work for me, and I did my homework. I talked to people face-to-face, and did a LOT of reading and google-fu. And I talked to a pharmacist. What I found reassured me.

Straight CBD oil has no THC; it will not get me high, and it will not trigger a drug screen. It's very fast-acting, if you vape it; if you drop the oil under the tongue, it acts slower, but lasts longer.

So, with fear and trembling, I entered the store, and made the purchase.

NOTE: There ARE 'blended' oils available that have some measurable amount of THC in them. Some patients have found that a higher amount of THC makes the sought effect of the CBD more likely. These blended oils are also permitted in Georgia, but there is a "Low THC Permit" issued by the Department of Health for the user to be protected from criminal prosecution.

So, what am I using? This: 

The white part is the battery. The yellow fluid is the CBD oil.

And what has been the result? Well, if you remember, I am prescribed (3) pain pills per day for break-through pain. Each contains 10 mg hydrocodone and 325 mg acetaminophen tablets. Here's how the week has gone since Sunday:

Yup. What you are seeing is the number of pills I had LEFT OVER at the end of the day.  On Sunday, 1.5 pills; on Monday, all three; on Tuesday, two pills; On Wednesday, all three; on Thursday, two pills. At as of lunch time on Friday, I've had to take: nothing. Since Sunday, I've taken 3.5 pills; in the past, I would have taken at least 16, depending on how today was going.

I CANNOT give you a definitive statement that vaping the CBD oil has resulted in lower pain. For one thing, that precious, PRECIOUS kindly grandmother-type chiropractor popped my back and neck a couple of times; it was so loud, YOU probably heard it. For ANOTHER thing, I WANT it to work. This MIGHT be a placebo. 

You may notice that I'm not including a picture of Dr, Kim Vaccaro. That's because the only picture on her website has her holding what I assume to be a grandchild, and the smile on her face is so huge that it lights up the picture. So far, I have been able to satisfy my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, that this woman who is putting her hands on my body is a sweet, gentle, kindly grandmother type. The website picture would get me in hot water. Look it up yourself if you want to, but I'M not providing a direct link! 

It might be a real effect, and it might not. You know what? I don't care. Pain is all perception, anyway, and so if I THINK it's working, then that's a win. 

I'm gonna close here. There is SO much more to say, and what I REALLY want to say to all those other chronic pain sufferers out there: Let's all go to Washington, and camp out in our congressional delegations' offices, and ask them nicely to please let the government test this stuff. It MIGHT set some of us free!

Peace be on your household.

My Introduction to CBD Oil and Vaping: Part ONE

Greetings, friends and neighbors out there in Internet Land, and a big shout out to my family who turn to this channel from time to time. 

What this is. This is the promised post on the matter of pain. It has come about because of a peculiar attack of physical pain that hit me at the end of January: with intermittent, sharp, stabbing pains in different areas of my back. The attacks lasted about six weeks before I sought relief. Soon, however, my physical pain was overshadowed by  mental and emotional pain, and that's really the bigger issue, and the reason for this post.

You see, it MAY be (and the verdict isn't in, yet!) that there is a form of pain relief that I haven't known about, due to other-than-medical reasons. That's a BIG deal to me; I suffer from chronic pain, due to an inherited condition called ankylosing spondylitis (AS), a systemic auto-immune disease which manifests in my case by a little bit of spine problems, and a BUCKETLOAD of inflammation.

Act One: My intro to chronic pain, and pain management.  How much is a bucketload? Well, there is something called "C-Reactive Protein." That's a substance your liver makes, in response to inflammation. 
Normal range is 0.0 - 4.9 mg/L. In September 2004, they tested me.
Mine was 12.4 mg/L.

So, they tested me again. My doc was worried there was something wrong with my heart. (SPOILER ALERT: THERE WASN'T). This one specifically rated my C-Reactive Protein level as a cardiac factor; because if there is inflammation of the cardiac arteries, that could indicate a heart attack is likely. 
A reading below 1.0 mg/L means you are in good shape. From there up to 3.0, not much issue. Above 3.0, you are a high risk for a cardiac event. 
My level was 14.5 mg/L, the second time they tested it. Obviously, something was WRONG!
BUT, all the tests I had been taking to study my heart showed it was in great shape.


In May, 2005, they discovered I was a Neanderthal, by detecting the presence of Human Leukocyte Antigen, subtype B27 (HLA-B27). I was good with that. I rather admire Neanderthals, and it comforted me to know that all the pain I was experiencing was real, and not in my head. Unfortunately, there is no cure. Keep as flexible as you can, and the pain is managed by medications.

Act Two: How that turned out. Unfortunately for me, the level of narcotics I needed to manage my pain also tended to make me non-functional. Two years later, I was forced to take a medical retirement from a job I loved, because between the pain, the side effects of drowsiness the meds caused, and the insomnia the meds brought, I was no longer safe to have around a middle school. And two weeks later, I discovered my marriage (29 years, at that point) was over. 

So, I sat down. And I didn't do anything for three years. But then I stood up, and re-entered the world, and met my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, on Christmas Day, 2010, and you can read THAT story here.

In March of 2012, my daily dosage of morphine was 120 mg of extended release morphine, plus (3) 15 mg tablets of fast-acting morphine, for a total daily dose of 165 mg. That's a lot; one citation I read said that a lethal overdose can happen with a dose of 200 mg. 

My last prescription bottle for 120 mg morphine

A Butrans patch

I wasn't dying, but I knew I wasn't able to be the husband and father I was called to be, so I quit. I went cold turkey on the spot, and after I had gone through the worst of it, I called the pain clinic to tell them what I had done. As expected, they freaked a little.  

I didn't care. I remained their patient, and at the suggestion of an orthopedic surgeon who had put plates in my neck several years prior, prescribed a powerful non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug called meloxicam (Mobic). They gave me a scrip for 30 hydrocodone tablets as emergency pain relief, which lasted from April through the end of the year. It was a great arrangement, and it lasted until my gut started to bleed in December or January.
It's an unfortunate side effect that hits some people, and it means they won't ever be able to take NSAIDS, not even aspirin.

But, without the meloxicam, I HAD to have something for the pain. I wasn't about to go on morphine again as a matter of pride. Sure, it may be a trivial, or only symbolic victory, but it's MY victory, I paid for it, and I'm keeping it. That is NOT meant as a criticism of ANYBODY, particularly anybody who is currently having their pain managed for morphine! But I wasn't going to take that medicine again.

Fortunately, there was another pain management tool that was available at that time: the Butrans patch. It dispenses tiny doses of medication, every hour, for a week. And, it did NOT goof my head, make me drowsy, or cause constipation. I couldn't even tell that I had the medication in  my system; except that, when I was trying to see if it really DID work, and left it off for a day or so, the pain came back with a vengeance. I was prescribed the patch, and (initially) (4) 10 mg hydrocodone per day for break-through pain. Since that time, my dose is down to three per day. Some days have been a little rough, BUT:

Butrans gave me another chance at life.

END OF ACT TWO. 

~

INTERMISSION

I think that's a good stopping place. I'll pick this up tomorrow.

Peace be on your household.

Back from "The Land of No Frontal Lobe!"

Greetings, Friends and Family out there in Internet Land!

It appears I am again operational, after some number of days in what I wryly refer to as "Zombie Man" mode. It happens when I am sleep deprived. I may LOOK normal, but I can't think coherently, my coordination is WAY off, I have little (if any) short-term memory, and I may experience auditory or visual hallucinations.

That used to be a regular thing, back when they were treating my chronic pain condition with morphine or fentayl,  from 2005 until 2012. The fentanyl gave me horridly vivid, repetitive nightmares, and the morphine kept me from going to sleep at all, for up to three nights in a row.  That's what lead to my forced retirement in 2007; I was no longer capable of doing my job as a school counselor. At the very end of my time employed, I arranged with the campus police officer to give me a field sobriety test, if there was any question about my fitness for work. And, a couple of times, I failed that test, and had to make arrangements for someone to take me home.

Seven months after marrying my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, I realized that the side effects of the pain-killers were keeping me from being the kind of husband and father I wanted to be, and I withdrew cold turkey, from 165 mg of morphine per day to zero. The physical consequences to my body were unpleasant, but were limited to MASSIVE sweating, and restless leg syndrome:  I had absolutely no mental or emotional craving.

A consult with the orthopedic surgeon who had done a cervical fusion for me years before gave me a prescription for meloxicam, a powerful non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug.  The pain clinic had given me a script for hydrocodone, in case I hit pain I couldn't manage. I averaged  1/2 pill (5 mg) of hydrocodone per week, and the Zombie Man attacks ceased instantly.

Unfortunately, after about 9 months, the NSAIDS started to make my gut bleed,  and I had to discontinue it. That meant I had to look at conventional return to pain meds again, but this time, they suggested the Butrans patch. Its' active agent is a rather bizarre opioid that appears to block pain without intoxicating the brain, and is missing some of the other bad side effects as well, such as constipation. I've been using it for about six years now, and haven't needed to increase the dosage.

It's very rare for Zombie Man to appear these days. He did show up last summer; my daughter noticed that my comments to her on Messenger were incoherent, so either she or I called my first-born son, who has had some experience with people with various types of neurological problems. At issue was whether this was a sleep deprivation-induced Zombie-Man experience, or whether I had suffered a stroke, seizures, or some other biological event. He came over to my house to check me out, and was prepared to take me to the hospital if needed.

That guy is SO cool! He ran a quick evaluation on me, without me even knowing he was doing it! I guess I have retained the idea that I know more medical stuff than him, because I was an army medic and he was a cannon-cocker. I tend to forget that he has spent huge chunks of the past five years of his life being poked, prodded, and otherwise invaded by brain docs, ever since he had a Real Bad Day in Afghanistan, involving a 155 mm rocket and a concrete wall. He also spent a lot of time with me back in the bad old days, when Zombie Man was a frequent visitor, so he knew what that looked like. He put me to bed, made sure I stayed there until I was asleep, and stayed with me until Vanessa got home.

This time, I'm not sure when the sleep deficit started. It must have started before Thursday, but I WAS able to do some things on Friday, and remember them; they DID take a lot longer to accomplish than they should have. I've got nothing on Saturday, but it was apparent that I wasn't tracking by then. So, Vanessa made me go to bed, and at some point I went to sleep. I slept though the 'get-up-for-church' alarm, and became functional shortly after noon  today.

I've checked my phone, emails, and Facebook page, and it doesn't appear that I insulted anyone, enlisted in the Army again, or made indecent proposals to the grocer.  And, I'm processing well enough to have written this. So, I have many reasons to give thanks. Actually, that's true enough on every day, but especially true after a crisis.

Thanks to the many, many friends who checked up on me, and your expressions of concern. If I have left anyone in doubt (I THINK I replied to all private messages), I apologize. And with that, I'm BACK!

Peace be on your household.

Hot Tea For Sick Papa

Greetings, Internet Friends and Family!

It's that most wonderful time of the year, when we are cooped up with people bringing us gifts, food, and whatever virus they have encountered in the last week or so. 14-year-old Kenneth woke up on Christmas morning with a fever of 102.1, and Papa had it by the next day.

A cold is a virus, and unless you took action before you knew you needed to, there's nothing to do for it but treat the symptoms and wait it out, and try not to infect other people. My gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, has returned to the work place to see if she can spread a little disease there. That's mostly because she has this unbending streak of job loyalty, which won't allow her to take time off.

Not me, though. I did ALMOST go out yesterday to get some things I need, but then ran out of time and energy, and just started another pot of jasmine rice, and took a nap.

Best thing for the sore throat: hot tea. Good stuff to put in it: Lemon. Honey. Whatever. Ginger. It's mostly gonna help by keeping your throat warm and wet.

Now, STARTING OUT with hot tea is never a problem. Everyone knows how to do that. But, I like to drink out of my Papa mug, and it holds A LOT of liquid. And I found myself having to visit the microwave multiple times to reheat the stuff.

Kenneth suggested an insulated cup. Yes that's a good idea, except I don't have one and I don't want to go out and get one. Besides that, it's not my Papa cup.

Many, many moons ago, my coworker/trainer gave me a cute , dainty handmade coffee cup with  a matching lid, which she said would keep my coffee warm. Yeah, that MIGHT work...if I knew where it was and could tolerate having the frilly item in my man cave.

I could do like Steve McQueen does in "Bullitt" and use an immersion heater. Another cord would NEVER present a problem, particularly when attached to a hot piece of metal...so, no.

But then I remembered a trick learned in 1972 from a congenial Army mess sergeant: if you want hot coffee, you gotta warm the cup first. A few years later, I took a physics class, and got the basic theory down, and he was right. You can't GET hot coffee if you pour it into a room temperature cup; it's a matter of heat transfer to reach equilibrium.

I expanded that idea today, and realized what I needed: additional hot mass in my cup. Something dense, to act as a heat storage device, like the reverse of the heat sink you use when soldering electrical components.

I may have mentioned that I reload for my firearms. I have LOTS of metal on hand! However, I decided some time ago not to consume lead, put it in my mouth, or make eating utensils out of it or get shot by it. So, the bullets were a no-go.

The solution came when I found decorative rocks: dense, clean, and with life-affirming messages written on them that don't come off in hot liquids. I even used math to figure out some things, but that may bore you, so I'll leave most of that out.

My hot tea life-affirming rocks

I will say that the two rocks, "Courage" and "Persevere," weighed a total of 7.0 ounces, while only displacing 1.8 ounces of fluid.

And, it worked. My cup of lemons, honey, and whatever else I added, stayed hot enough to be a comfortable drink for quite a bit longer than it would otherwise.

This life hack has been brought to you by the Papa Pat and the rest of the Chattahoochee Pattersons, wishing you courage, the ability to persevere, and excellent health.

Peace be on your household.

QUARANTINED for Fall Break!

Greetings, to all of you out there in Internet Land!

Now that I have been busted (umm, literally, as in 'busted upside the head by a projectile'), I can reveal the Practical Joke, which concluded yesterday.

 On Thursday, Auntie Tobhiyah had to pick up 12 year old Alicia Ann at cheerleading practice; bless her 12 year old heart, she was running a fever. Her fever responded to ibuprofen, and bed rest, and popsicles; but I kept her out of school on Friday anyway. I emailed her teachers to let them know why she was out, and one of them replied that this wasn't the way her Fall Break should start.

Well, I had forgotten that Fall Break was happening, and that's what gave me the idea.

I thought maybe my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, had forgotten about Fall Break as well, and I could use this as an opportunity to play a practical joke on her, what with being an Evil Genius.

I was wrong about her forgetfulness, but what we did worked anyway:

Alicia, and her older brother Kenneth, and I conspired together!

I found a couple of ‘QUARANTINE / Medical Warning’ documents online, and with appropriate changes made up our very own QUARANTINE posters. Kenneth taped one to the mailbox, and the other to the front door, with pink Day-Glo duct tape, exactly the same kind of tape that the Health Department uses (I'm sure).

My judicious use of large orange type and medical / legal jargon, as in:

"Cherokee County Sheriff has been granted a waiver of habeas corpus in this case, until pathology, immunohistochemistry records and specimens; radiology records and films including ..." (blah blah blah), 

amplified the message that "minor child ALICIA ANN EMIOHE is not permitted to return to school until September 24, 2018. "

Which happens to be true.... because FALL BREAK! Get it? 

It was a GREAT practical joke, of the kind where I could make certain TRUE statements to support the hoax. Such as:

• "I wasn't able to get her to the doctor, but there are these helpline numbers you can call and talk to a nurse." 
• "She absolutely cannot return to school until September 24!" 
• "No, I PROMISE you I did not put those notices on the mailbox and on the door!" (That WAS true; Kenneth put them there, not me!) 

It worked long enough to take Vanessa out of her end-of-the-workweek routine. That was an added benefit, as her office has been an aggravating place recently.

I believe comic relief is always appreciated; sometimes, the appreciation just takes longer to manifest. In this case, I'm guessing appreciation manifests maybe by the time Alicia graduates. From her Ph.D. program.

And, here is the evidence; the reason the document in the top picture is rumpled is because the picture was taken after she had wadded up the sign and hit me in the head with it.

The MAILBOX poster

The FRONT DOOR poster

And we are all happy now, because, after all IT's FALL BREAK!!!

Peace be on your household.