Marihuana and Chronic Pain
Martin Martinez
USA
High school friends of mine made a daily springtime habit of smoking
marihuana just outside the principal's office windows, deliberately blowing
in billows of pungent smoke on the afternoon breeze. Being chased out
of the yard by irate school official heightened the drug's effects as young
hearts raced to join their buddies bursting with laughter. An outsider among
outsiders, I was not fond of such games. Nor was I interested in the use of
pot for purely social or recreational reasons. Marvelous insights captivated
my mind when stoned. As I grew older, my use of cannabis developed
beyond intuitive meditation and became the catalyst of many profound
mystical experiences.
Later in life, I found that the moderate use of cannabis did not interfere with
demanding physical tasks and skills such as building construction and home
remodeling. While a large dose of marihuana would tend to make me feel
less active, a smaller dose invigorated my vitality. I also rode a motorcycle in
my youth. I felt that a small dose of marihuana actually increased my motor
skills. By the age of 27 I had driven many thousands of miles while mildly
stoned and had never caused an accident. Then one night a reckless driver
swerved into my lane and crashed into me at a combined speed of 60 miles
per hour. I was not expected to survive.
I suffered dozens of severe injuries in the crash, including 25 orthopedic
fractures and massive skull fractures, which severely crippled several cranial
nerves. Two months after the crash, I lay in bed a crumpled mass of pain.
My IV fed me up to 10 milligrams of morphine every 7 minutes, 24 hours
a day, but still I had trouble sleeping because the pain was so intense. I was
told that I was not going to recover mobility and that I would spend the
rest of my life dependent on a medical facility.
I could barely speak due to
the nerve damage to my voice and throat. The constant pain in my eyes was
excruciating. I was given morphine and other narcotics, which incapacitated
me, but did not reduce the pain in my eyes. Swallowing was a challenge
that often resulted in choking and coughing fits lasting many minutes. As
the weeks went by I began to suspect that the medications I was given
were actually contributing to my neurological impairments by inhibiting
concentration and depressing neurological responses. In addition, I was
painfully aware that narcotics had a disastrous effect on my intestines.
One day, an outpatient who had AIDS visited me. He told me a little about
the medical uses of marihuana and he gave me a joint. I waited till late at
night when the nurses were busy elsewhere. I smoked the joint in secret and
my heart raced so much I feared that I might burst the scars of my recent
surgery. But then the contraband was gone, the scent was dissipated, and
outraged nurses still had not discovered me, so my heart rate slowed to a
comfortable purr. I felt relaxed and at ease, but not stupefied. I could still
sense the deep scars of my damaged nerves, but I was somehow mentally
distanced from the pain in a way that morphine did not offer. I slept that
night more soundly than I had since the crash.
I left the primary hospital as soon as I could talk my doctors into releasing
me. I returned to my hometown and became an outpatient at a facility
there- I continued to use narcotics and other pain medications prescribed
by my doctors, but over the months and years I gradually replaced several
prescription medicines with the use of cannabis.
Nearly all of the drugs
I had been given by doctors seemed to depress my mind and body, and
the addictive quality of narcotics created numerous unpleasant psychological
effects. Unlike narcotics, cannabis use imparted positive mental and physical
stimulation, called euphoria that encouraged my rapid recovery.
With the use of cannabis replacing sensory-depressive narcotics, I found
myself recovering far beyond the expectations of my first 27 doctors. Five
years after the crash, I took some college courses and then began to work
again. By the time I was well enough to maintain a full-time carpentry job,
I was smoking hundreds of dollars worth of cannabis per month. Ten years
after the crash, having spent in excess of $10,000 per year on unreliable
qualities of cannabis, I was arrested for growing my own.
In my trial the prosecution proved that I was growing what they considered
to be a "huge" amount of marihuana. The fact that I had possession of 88
plants was assumed to be evidence that I was a drug dealer. I proved that I had
a legitimate medical necessity for the use of marihuana and that I also had a
very substantial income in real estate development, which precluded a profit
motive.
Using the harvest estimates of the Drug EnforcementAdministration
agent who testified against me, and the consumption estimates of the
physician who testified for me, the amount of cannabis seized might have
lasted me up to two years and saved me up to $20,000.
Eight of the jurors in
my trial were sympathetic and voted to acquit me on the grounds of medical
necessity. Four of the jurors agreed with the State's contention that I had
intended to sell my medicine. A mistrial was declared and I remained free.
Two months later, police officers returned to my home. They held me
and searched the premises without a warrant, discovering a much smaller
cannabis garden than they had seized the year before. A vindictive State
prosecutor arrived at my house and intentionally confiscated confidential
communications to and om my attorneys.
I spent a second birthday in
a row deathly sick in bed after having been released from jail. Physically,
emotionally, and economically bankrupt, unable to afford the enormous
cost of another trial, and unable to obtain a public defender due to my
ownership of severely over-mortgaged real estate, I accepted a "no jail-time"
plea bargain deal which was broken the day before sentencing.
The medical affidavits of Dr. Grinspoon and four additional physicians had
no apparent influence on the imperious court. I was sentenced to 90 days
in jail for the brink act of cultivating cannabis for my own medicinal use.
I was on the brink of catastrophe, about to begin the second worst three
months of my life when a marvelous thing happened. Hundreds of people,
including doctors, medicinal marihuana activists, other medicinal cannabis
users, and other concerned citizens, started an organized telephone, fax, and
letter-writing campaign which forced the State to review and re-evaluate its
disposition of my case.
Thanks to the sincere efforts of numerous concerned
persons, all jail time was then commuted to 240 hours of community service
and the imposition of urine analysis testing was waived.
Although the criminal actions against me cost me two years of terrible
hardship, at least the State eventually decided not to further endanger my
health.
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These drugs may be responsible for as many as 76,000 hospitalization and more than 7,600 deaths annually. Acetaminophen is increasingly prescribed instead because it largely spares the digestive tract, but it can cause liver damage or kidney failure when used regularly for long periods. Medical researchers have estimated that patients who take one to three acetaminophen tablets a day for a year or more account for about 8% to 10% of all cases of end-stage renal disease, a condition that is fatal without dialysis or a kidney transplant.
Given the limitations of opioids and non-addictive synthetic analgesics, one might have expected pain specialists to take a second look at cannabis, but the medical literature again suggests little recent reconsideration. Cannabis may be especially useful for the kinds of chronic pain that people who survive catastrophic traumatic accidents have to live with the rest of their lives.
Martin Martinez is such a patient.