Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews: Uncle G’s Corner (#08) – The Birthday Issue: Turning 50

WARNING! WARNING! (age 21+ Cannabis)

Red Ashtray - 02 (June 2011)

Seeing how this is an archival website, I’d like to introduce to my newer 420 readers, a series of essays I did for a non-profit pro-cannabis website out of New York City, some years ago. One that I’ve gotten involved with, back in the year, 2011. The webmistress was the wonderful Arlene Williams aka Ganja Granny. I love her to death! The website, Green Ribbon World, sadly disappeared here recently. I was happy and grateful to be a part.

Please note … regarding this republishing. We’re going back in time. Things were different. I was married for the second time. That union was dissolved one day shy of us being a couple 22 years. Add the time we dated, and now its closer to 25 years. No resentment or hard feelings. I’d rather look forward more than backward.

Editing: Versions 2.0 of Uncle G’s Corner…My aim is to clean up any remaining typos and grammar errors. Content remains the same as it first appeared. When I’m finally done (this could take some time) archiving all the past essays published, I’ll start writing new ones. In a way, I already have done so: Uncle G’s FUN 420 Reviews.

Gary “Uncle G” Brown (08 Aug 2017)




Uncle G’s Corner
Number: #08
The Birthday IssueTurning 50 (originally published August 2011)
Words and ‘Red Ashtray‘ photo by Gary “Uncle G” Brown

Twitter @GBrown0816

This is my eighth entry in the pot journal I call; Uncle G’s Corners. Lately, I’ve been wanting to do a column on here addressing medical marijuana. I wondered to myself. I said self, is one more joint, one less Vicodin?

My use of weed started for recreational purposes. It was the 1970’s. If it felt good, more than likely I did it. Loved pot.

The first time I can say I was truly consuming cannabis for medicinal purposes was in the early 1990’s. Helped me calm down. Was a really stressful time. A period that also included a divorce. Beyond nasty. I traveled a lot. For no special reason other than to just get away. Drove from Texas to Florida. Hung there for some time. Bike Week ’92. Daytona Beach. That was a blast. I got a tattoo while there. Here’s where I learned to never get a tattoo artist stoned before he does the tattoo.

On my left shoulder, a tattoo. The word; Yes. The band. Done like the Roger Dean logo. Not that big. The guy did the letters “Y” and “S” pretty well. It’s the letter “E” that gave him problems. Nowadays I almost totally forget I even have it. Tried to get it “fixed” in Houston once. Made the colors better. Was still fucked up. Then I decided to get a complete cover up and turn it into something else. Am still working on that idea. In the meantime, the tat fades and stays the way it is.

From Florida back to Texas. Then to California. From there a hop, and then another hop, and I was in Nevada. All this time driving a 1981 Olds Cutlass. I called it; The Golden Chariot.

Spent two weeks in Las Vegas. Rented an efficiency. It had a small kitchen. Stove. I wanted to be able to make instant coffee. So I went to a grocery store. Wondering around. First time there. I find a guy doing stock in one of the aisles. I ask him if he knew where I could find a little pot. He looked at me and said I should try looking on the Strip. I laughed and said no, that I wanted a little pot so I could boil water in it. He laughed also. Aisle Four. Weird, all these years that have gone by. It was only a couple of nights ago that I mentioned to my better half that we needed a little pot. I actually let the last one we had, burn up one fine day. Was boiling water back when I was doing treatment for Hep C. Don’t tell anyone. I just sat in the office and let it happen. Like I was playing chicken. Was thinking, one more minute and I’ll get up. The whistle could not be any louder. Let it go until that one second before it starts a fire. The smell wasn’t good neither. Our secret. Don’t tell my wife. I cleaned it up, which even involved a little black spray paint, and I never told anyone. Anyway, my honey started listing me a few people whom she knew were dealing grass. Always thinking of me. I love her so.

Back in 2009, I started doing Mary Jane (I always liked that nickname ) again after a prolonged period of not using it. As previously mentioned, I had found out in 2008 that I had hepatitis C. Started a combined treatment of:

01.) Pegasys 180 MCG / 0.5ml – Single shot/injection per week.
02.) Ribavirin 600MG – twice a day

…for 48 weeks. Pretty much the whole year of 2009. Side effects were horrible. A little more than halfway through, my wife suggested smoking weed to me. Doing the treatment I was very sick. Losing weight. And one day I said; OK. I believe pot helped me finish treatment. Made it all so much more tolerable.

In May of this year, my right leg pretty much gave in on me while I was climbing down a flight of metal stairs. Discovered while doing tests, an MRI to be more specific. A herniated disc near my tailbone. Bonus prize. A torn hip muscle. Right side. I already was being treated for arthritis in my lower back. Hello Hydrocodone.

A couple of weeks ago I went home early from a part-time job I got. Stomach pains. Was in a hospital a few hours later. Throwing up. Wicked diarrhea. At the same time. At one point I ran into a bathroom and didn’t know what to do first, throw up or shit. I sat on the toilet and threw up in a vomit bag. My cat scan showed something. Was in horrible pain. On a scale of one to ten, this was off the chart. I swear it hurt more than when my appendix came out in 2009. That totally sucked! I was of course dehydrated. Days later and the Doctor thinks it’s just something I caught. Like a virus. Took the pink stuff (I recommend cherry flavor and chilled). And no surprise, I smoked pot recuperating at home. Made me feel better. I started eating. Gave me energy. Slowly did chores around the house. If not for weed, I’m sure I would HAVE suffered way more than I did.

The treatment Saint Luke’s Hospital provided, worked as well. They were awesome by the way. I felt like my body was shutting down. A super gross ordeal to go through. I bathe daily. Believe I have established good hygiene habits. A nurse walked into the bathroom. Just opened the door. Wanted to know if I was okay. And there I was naked. Had an IV in my right hand. That damn pole beside me. While in bed, a fart turned into a liquid mess. Imagine the worse. I looked at the nurse and said; “Remember when you asked me if I could pass gas?” Seriously, how embarrassing is this to even say out loud to another human being? She was cool. Said I was in there because of massive throwing up, and diarrhea. Not surprised. She helped me. Made all the negative feelings I was going through because of the situation, disappear. God bless her.

I recently made plans to be a lab rat in an Opiate study. For a whole year. The most interesting part is I’m going to have to pee clean (no pot) for more than once during the study. Its intent is to provide 24-hour pain relief, with no harmful side effects; liver. Am sure to get at least one good pot journal from this experience, for sure. Coming attractions!

So, to answer the question, yes it does. You remember the question; is one more joint, one less Vicodin? Now going through this consistent pain due to the injuries I have, it would be easy to just sit back and pop one or two Hydrocodones a day. I’m walking with a limp. The pot is helping me cope. Take my mind off the soreness my body is going through. Helps me sit through movies like ‘Sucker Punch’. The United States Government just came out and said pot has no use, whatsoever. No mention of medical use. Yet here I am at the same time, and it’s providing me comfort that the pills can’t do, and with no nasty ass side effects. Not like the pills. Go figure. This will be an ongoing topic. More to come.

Onward through the fog….

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