Category: drugs

Re: Allergy

People with allergies can be the butt of jokes. When schools had to design policies around the potentially deadly outcome of peanut allergies in children, controversial comedian Louis CK got headlines because he suggested that “If touching a nut kills you, maybe you’re supposed to die.”

Today, I was tempted by a fresh black cherry. When I am exposed to certain foods I can get allergic reactions that could include; a runny nose, sneezing, coughing, shortness of breath, swelling, itchy palate, or red eyes. I can relate to the ads on television during allergy season promoting their product’s efficacy in removing all these sorts of symptoms. I know about the risk of certain foods, but that cherry looked so red, ripe, and delicious. I ate it and felt fine, for ten minutes, then I got all the reactions I just described. I didn’t die, but I was a noisy, mucus-filled mess for half an hour. ’Twas not a pretty sight.

I didn’t always suffer from the A disease. In my twenties, I moved from southern to northern Ontario and that particular summer was apparently the worst pine pollen bloom of-all-time. The yellow powder was smeared on vehicle windshields, it coated clothing hanging outside to dry, and was a sticky icing on the surface of lakes and rivers. I can’t see how anyone could avoid having their lungs clogged by this powdery air. From that bio-hazard summer to this day I can start sneezing over unknown elements in the air, or in the beverages I drink, or on the animals I pet, or in some of the foods I ingest. It’s a crap shoot.

Many medications are available for allergy relief. My doctors have prescribed many remedies (the best being codeine) and I have settled on a formula of antihistamine, decongestant, and anti-inflammatory to reduce most of the symptoms, most of the time. Sometimes I can predict what might bring on an attack and take the necessary pill(s) in advance. I always carry a tissue in my pocket. It’s usually damp.

The first thing I’m asked when going to a hospital is, “Do you have any allergies?” I want to be dismissive but I usually say it’s only seasonal. When I sneeze (loudly) in a grocery store aisle I want to go to customer service to tell them to assure everyone with an announcement, “It’s just allergies folks!” I fell in love with a woman who took out a Kleenex after her first bite of food, from our first restaurant meal, just as I did too! It’s breezy to be sneezy, when you’re in love.

Jeff Bridges was in a film about a plane crash. Surviving this ordeal, he finds that he no longer has a severe strawberry allergy. In joy, he becomes fearless in attitude, thinking he was somehow blessed by the tragic experience, making him immune to normal human frailty. There are many ailments that afflict our species. Within the great spectrum of illness I know that I am lucky to only have a response to a few allergens. It’s not likely to kill me.

Re: Pill

The pills in my medicine cabinet give me a sense of control even when I don’t use them. Everybody has pain in their lives and sometimes a pill makes it better. Like it or not I belong to a culture that finds it acceptable for people to modify their brains. You can choose tobacco, coffee, alcohol prescription or illicit drugs depending on your situation. Whatever method you choose, the common goal is the same: To feel better.

My mom would often have mood swings. When she was exasperated with me or my sister she would snarl, “You’re such a pill!” When we got older she would lose patience with us if we were doing typical adolescent things causing her to say, “Take a pill, why don’t you!” Such was the nature of her language use that the word Pill could be so haphazardly used to show feelings or give abstract advice. In truth she had a substance abuse problem herself, that varied according to economics and availability.

News headlines often refer to a ‘war on drugs’ as overdose deaths rise or police report drug den discoveries. Law abiding folks wring their hands saying they fear to walk on downtown streets. Statistics regarding substance abuse should make us scared. Any population must raise an alarm when death by overdose/poisoning becomes the main cause of death. In Victoria, BC a university student died in Jan.2024 of fentanyl poisoning. She was one of 200 in the province who died that month! For six years BC has been in a state of declared emergency over this dilemma.

I don’t take street drugs, but I have been prescribed medication that has helped me through tough times, both physical and mental. I try not to judge others; looking down my nose at other people’s choices is not helpful especially when it comes to the topic of addiction, which should be a health concern, not a criminal offence. I am a car driver. I expect my government to help me if I get into an accident. I expect there to be government regulations that will keep the car and the roads I drive on as safe as possible. I will continue to drive my car even though I’m aware that my car can be an instrument of death; accidental or intentional. Drugs and cars are a fact of life in my culture. The risks and rewards are great when using either. Maybe someday I will see the wisdom of not owning/operating a car but in the meantime I want systems in place that will mitigate any harm I may cause to myself or others. The same goes for drugs.

It’s a given that people may choose to take a pill, or any substance that helps to relieve the pain of life. The student I mentioned was given pills laced with fentanyl by a ‘trusted source’. Her mother is grieving. Harm reduction is advocated by groups like Mothers Stop The Harm.  Our drug supplies must be regulated. No one deserves to suffer. No one needs to die.

Re: Pace

I have a sort of pace maker for my heart. I’ve been diagnosed with Atrial Fibrillation, which means that my heart has irregular rapid beats. I currently take medication to regulate the intensity and to cut down on the randomness of my heart’s pace. I’ll live to see another day.

The pace of my life has changed. There are things I have adapted to, out of respect for my age. I’m neither unfit, nor unwell. My body is giving me reminders to slow down to accommodate the realities of my 8th decade. Joints are becoming arthritic. I can’t turn my head without hearing a crackly sound. I turn to pain medication more often. My skin flakes off constantly. I think it’s a question of ongoing maintenance, that, and good hygiene. My former mother-in-law used to say that after seventy life becomes a matter of ‘patch, patch, patch’. She was a vigorous mall walker into her late eighties then she just stopped and died. Talk about a change of pace!

One fretful moving day years ago I rented a car; an AMC Pacer to follow the movers to our new home and a new job. From there we were to go on to a wedding but alas, our pace for the Pacer was too much for that machine to bear. Repairs were made but we arrived late to the nuptials. It got worse; our rental wouldn’t start when it was time to leave. Towing and more repairs were made. I called the rental company & they said no worries, they’d sort it out when we returned the vehicle. I kept all receipts & affidavits but still had a hassle. Conclusion: AMC Pacer must be on pace to be the worst car ever.

‘On your mark, get set, go!’ Comes a shout from the timekeeper, while the racers are off at their running pace towards a manmade finish line. Olympic sponsors are currently revving their corporate engines, meanwhile nature sets its own pace. Certainly the seasons, by way of the rotation of our planet around the sun, tell us that everything will unfold in its natural way. I must consider the phases of the moon the next time I think it’s imperative that my pace is more important than my peace.

Since retirement I’m no longer in the rat race so I practise stillness, even value it. I’ve been a pacer; in the sense of anxiety keeping me moving. Waiting for something to happen was often an unhealthy preoccupation of mine. Picture the old time father pacing in the hospital expecting his child to arrive any minute now. In those days of expectancy I wore a watch to monitor the pace of my day; counting the minutes until the working was done, timing the roast in the oven, looking to see if I still had time before my appointment.

My 95 year old special mom uses a large nuclear style push button audio device by her bed to tell her the time. Its automated voice tells her to get up and greet another day.

Re: Relax

I once took a course in anger management. When I indicated this fact on a resume, at a subsequent job interview for a high school teaching position, the boss asked if I had anger issues. I said, “No but a lot of people seem to.” The tension dispersed and he laughed. I explained to the Principal that in teaching I found it helpful to have a variety of skills for defusing the anger I had found in my classrooms. He was listening. I told him that some strategies also benefitted me when it came time to talk through issues with adults during parent/teacher reporting sessions. I said it was an aspect of teacher education that I thought was missing from my original training. He seemed impressed, but I didn’t get the guidance counsellor position that I was applying for that day. I was disappointed. I don’t think it’s sour grapes to say that I suspected he was looking for an administrative policeman in his school, not the conciliator model I was presenting. His loss.

Anybody who has been in a tense situation will tell you the aggressive moment can escalate quickly if someone says the equivalent of, “Just Relax.” As I get older I find it easier to find a calm place to reside in most situations. Tension usually comes looking for me when I have to wait for something, so being retired from the strains of working life sure does help the blood pressure. I’ve also learned that considering priorities before making a decision helps me to wind down enough so that I can make a better decision. ‘It can wait’ are three helpful de-stressing words and not a bad philosophy: ‘acuna matata’, ‘don’t worry be happy’ ‘manyana’. All cultures have suggestions for taking it easy before blowing a gasket.

I think another secret is to build comfort into your day. I could make a list of suggestions but everyone knows their own keys to going with the flow. Some are wise enough not to seek stress to begin with, however, an uneventful life is not very fulfilling. That’s why they call it Stress Management; too much relaxation and we become slugs needing to be fed, too little down time and we can become a bomb ready to explode. I’m getting better at delegating the things I know will create anxiety. I’ll let a trusted friend drive me places because I tense-up in traffic. I am learning to step aside while another friend or colleague solves a problem. I trust my life partner to work by my side. I don’t need to take on every responsibility that’s on my menu of life.

Being high strung maybe okay for high pitched orchestral instruments but not for people. For those who tend to be edgy there are plenty of relaxation techniques to practise. When all else fails I’ll take a glass of spirits, a chill pill or THC brownie without any accompanying guilt. There is a lot to be said for recognizing when our anxiety is getting in the way of our better selves. Life is way too short to let urgency set your agenda, even if that sounds contradictory.

Re: Fix

I remember my dad used to fret so much when a television repairman had to be called to our house. In the first place he had to admit to himself that his skills with dials, tubes and antennae had been for nought. Secondly it would mean he might be shamed after the technician could fix the problem with a turn of a screw. Then of course came the bill, which would set my factory working father back half a day’s wage.

When my dishwasher went on the fritz recently I thought of my dad. I started into a brain spiral about repair vs replace. I called and got some opinions, which still left me in a quandary. On the one hand I had a perfectly good appliance that only needed a gasket (or so I thought). A competing idea had me considering the domino effect of falling/failing returns on my original investment. My DIY skills are limited, but like my wonderful dad, I have a certain amount of pride in looking after the things that I own so when they fail I take it personally.

Some things you just can’t fix on your own, especially problems of a non-material sort. Especially problems of the relationship sort! My bride and I have generally done a great job ironing out our differences. When problems between me, her or us crop up, we use different strategies to overcome the missing or damaged parts. I usually try to charge in and fix things but my wise woman often tells me, “I just want you to listen.”

Getting a fix on things is a way to focus attention on the important things. I want my mind to stick with the essentials during a problem solving exercise. It’s no coincidence when we use the phrase, ‘glued to the task’ to indicate just how deep our concentration can be when we are attending to the job at hand. I have an image of my dad trying to apply a fixative to a broken china cup handle. He had to hold the pieces until the epoxy set, all the while unknowingly sticking his tongue out of his mouth as if to tether his thoughts.

I can rarely control my imagination, so I have to rely on structure to anchor my wandering mind. When a problem is too overwhelming, I occasionally turn to the medicine cabinet for a prescription. I  recently rewatched the dramatic film Man With a Golden Arm starring Frank Sinatra.

https://www.tcm.com/video/198811/man-with-the-golden-arm-the-1956-i-need-a-fix/

I think of the many folk who are drawn to street drugs in our city. Illicit drug use is a problem with no easy fixes for millions through the world. The things that make our lives better sometimes make them worse. When a device, friend or situation lets us down we may feel temporarily defeated. Sometimes a technician of the mechanical, digital or psychological sort can help us fix the problem. It’s worth it to make the call.

Re: Doctor

“Is there a doctor in the house!” Now that’s a phrase I’ve heard might be called out in a medical emergency by someone in a theatre. I’ve never witnessed that happening in the many plays I’ve attended. I’ve never been involved in a doctor intervention while being a passenger of an airplane either. This is another high drama location, that probably requires a mid-flight turn to get a patient to a hospital. Doctors to the rescue!

Canada is thought by many to be the home of ‘free’ health care. It is comforting to know that in a crisis situation citizens have access to hospital care without the added stress on their personal bank account. However for those of us without a Family Doctor our view of the tax funded, government sponsored/administered health system is not as seamless as it would appear to outsiders. Doctors retire. They move. Medical Centres close. Patients who have seen their doctor as just a phone call away may suddenly find themselves building confidence with a new physician at best, or stuck playing musical chairs in a clinic at worst.

Recently all these things have happened to me. To complicate things I had to spend an extended period of time away from my home province. To complicate things even further I had a heart incident that required intervention and follow-up treatment. Since health care is a provincial responsibility my health card was questioned. I had prescription drug needs that kept everything ticking (literally). Without my records I had to relate familiar stories about my medical history way too many times. When I returned home I joined thousands of others without a GP or Primary Care Physician and therefore have had slower than normal access to the specialists I need for my condition.

“What’s up Doc?” is a question that comes to mind in my lighter moments of feeling. I don’t want to skip the line for appropriate care. Sometimes I just want to know where I am in the line. I’ve questioned the notion of the word Care. I don’t like to point fingers in blame. Every doctor who has ever looked after me has done just that. In an emergency and over time, when I’ve come in need the questions have been answered in full. I would wish the same for everyone. Trouble is, there aren’t enough doctors for everyone in Canada right now.

I counted eight professionals around my bed when I was admitted to the emergency ward for my rapid heart arrhythmia. That’s a healthy amount of care for sure. Doctors are all about saving a life. It’s in their Hippocratic Oath. I count doctors, nurses and teachers as being the most important professionals in an advanced society. I fully recognize as an educated adult that I am primarily responsible for my health. I’m also smart enough to know that I can’t meet all of my own health needs. A solid health care system must make ease of access a key component for all in Canada and around the world.

Re: Stress

Trump is back in the regular news cycle and that has me stressed. I’m not alone. That man! Even his name produces stress in many folk. When the 45th President of the United States was on the last election hunt, I asked my doctor for some psychiatric help. The specialist he referred me to asked why I felt anxious. He looked stunned when I named The Donald at the top of my list. History has born me out. Meanwhile I’ve now got the mental health support I need to weather the next storm.

We humans are elastic for the most part. We like to think that we can accommodate, collaborate or compensate but there are times when it becomes mighty hard to even tolerate a person, a group or a situation. Our capacity for stretching can be based on individual temperament which may be grounded by our genes, our upbringing or our experiences. It’s complicated. So complicated that we must never suggest to another to “Just get over it.” People, like cars, have been known to have breakdowns. Even steel bridges snap under pressure.

I was a career elementary school teacher; a profession often ranked high among stressful occupations. My colleagues and I were taught how to see challenges as eustress: a sunny, positive label that encouraged us to master our own fate. Natural body chemicals like adrenaline or dopamine can help. Caffeine helps others. Many turn to jogging, yoga, alcohol or drugs. Back then we didn’t talk much about mental health. Stress leave was stigmatized but prevalent. Going to the psychiatrist was considered a failure in character.

Studies in animal behaviour have suggested that stress produces a fight or flight response in almost all creatures. I’ve discovered that I can mimic those two reactions very quickly in my head, however society frowns on me acting out with a punch, push, slap, or a hasty flight down the stairs and out the back door while shouting obscenities. (Ahem) Besides that, I have found that other F responses have worked for me in tense situations. For example, I’ve been known to faint. My favourite bird example, in stress management, is a Killdeer, who fakes a broken wing to save her nestlings. Sometimes I will ingratiate myself by fawning. Flailing about saying nonsensical things  can confuse an aggressor. I may distract my opponent by fucking, flaunting or feigning my way through a predicament. Or, I can put on a brave front, but it may not last long before I beg for forgiveness.

Identifying my stressors has taken me a while to pin down, yet it has been an essential starting point to create a sense of inner peace. To most people I appear calm and obliging (It’s magic!). However, I’ve become aware and confident enough that I can say to myself and/or others; “This is stressing me out.” I try to avoid the triggers that make me want to shout those words. I’m not afraid to ask for professional help. My brain, after all, is just another body part that needs love and attention.

Re: Trip

My generation has tons of musical references to trips of the psychedelic sort. We were advised to ‘tune in, turn on and drop out’ by LSD guru Timothy Leary. Author Aldous Huxley advocated for altered states. Television and movies at that time proliferated the conflicting ideas that getting high was either fun, instructive or a slippery slope to mania. In the United States the establishment (The Man) got so worked up about dope fiends and acid freaks that they encouraged their government to wage a war on drugs. In my dorm at Guelph University, drugs were easy to obtain in the early seventies. A fellow nicknamed Blackie was a familiar face at parties, offering a tempting collection of pretty coloured pills. My roommate partook, I resisted. The whole scene frightened me. I have a curious mind and an adventurous spirit yet turning myself over to tripping went against my need for personal control over my behaviour.

Until recently.

Growing up, the highlight of my summer was a camping trip to the beachfront of Maine. This vacation was from one to three weeks long and it marked me for life. My first fish caught with a rod, first kiss, first brush with death, first big purchase, first independent road trip and first long distance girlfriend all happened in this State. My experiences each summer welded together the things I had learned back home. Those trips contributed to my maturation process. I have magnified the importance of these holidays to such an extent that I brought my first wife and three boys to camp in the very spots I had enjoyed. When my current wife and I were planning for retirement, seeing Maine as part of an east coast residency possibility seemed like a natural trip to take.

Now I suddenly find myself at age seventy. I have travelled to many places I had only dreamed of as a youngster. Writing stories and typing pages for this blog is an intellectual trip of sorts. I continue to enjoy armchair travel with the help of film, books and magazines. Several years ago I turned on to ethnobotanist Wade Davis, whose adventurous writing captivates me. His creative reflections made me curious about Psilocybin. Likewise, Michael Pollan and Paul Stamets have added to my understanding of the regrowth of interest in tripping as a therapeutic tool.

Very interesting.

When my eldest son told me he had tried magic mushrooms. I asked if he would go on a trip with me for my 70th birthday. Quite coincidentally I discovered that Johns Hopkins University was conducting research on psychotropic medications. I signed up as a long distance participant. I felt I was ready. We chewed our dried ‘shrooms. My wife checked in on us during our journey. I tuned in, dropping out occasionally by closing my eyes to restore a sense of inner safety. I used a feather as a talisman on my vision quest. It showed me wondrous animations. I got in touch with my dead mother & sister. Why not? Who knew?

This boy will never stop learning.

Re: Panic

I have a panic room in my head and it works the opposite of a safe haven. I’ve never seen a film style panic room; where actors portraying people victimized by home invaders find sanctuary. My panic room is a room in my mind. My panic room must have doors and windows to let fresh air in. I’m only there because I have been stifled by repeating thoughts that whirl me into a panic response. My panic room door must not be locked for then a key may be lost, the key to understanding how I got there in the first place, even if the key is found the latch may be corroded, the knob broken, a sealed room of past hurts will continue to mildew with dark mold teeming with disease. No confidence can be regained whilst in the panic room of my mind.

I once helped a student take the moment necessary to come out of his panic room. Something triggered him to rise beside his desk. I called his name. He had the posture of a cornered animal. He started towards the door, tripping and falling to the floor. Students quieted as he lay there, eyes darting. It was not a seizure but some strange force had seized him. Taking advantage of his stillness I moved beside him and placed my palm lightly over his heart. His breathing calmed and his classmates remained breathless. He looked at me. He sat up. I asked his friend to accompany him to the office so the secretary could call his parents. He left for the day. It wasn’t until year’s end that he mentioned the incident and thanked me. I told him I would always remember what happened as though I had been guided: The right person, in the right place, at the right time.

I most feel panic when things seem out of order. My way seems barred. Access is being denied. I feel trapped, painted into corner, claustrophobic, breathless, suffocated. In the midst of this anxiety attack I feel there is no way out, yet why I enter there in the first place is always a mystery to me. I don’t know the why of panic’s approach, yet I’m getting better at the how of waving it goodbye.

A Yoga instructor once advised me to see disagreeable thoughts as flowing through and not lingering. Deep breathing helps. Calm may be the opposite of panic. I like the way some pronounce calm with a noticeable ‘l’. When stressed I will linger with the middle section of the word repeatedly sounding it out as ‘c-ah-m’. I’ve developed strategies as I’ve aged to minimize the risk of entering into a panic response. I have medicine that brings comfort when needed. Just knowing it’s there in the cabinet is often enough for relief. I’ve learned to visualize safe places; like a verandah with a swing. Peace is found there, sitting for a spell with a cooling lemonade, taking time to gather my thoughts, settling me into a fresh perspective.

Re: Stimulate

I can confess to being consistently stimulated by only three things; Coffee, sunshine and women. I have to be careful of too much caffeine as it makes me bobbly eyed. I once had an espresso to which I added a few tubs of caffeine concentrate at a roadside diner. I thought I was hallucinating! With sunshine I used to get nasty sunburns but now have developed the good sense to seek shade before I regret the exposure. My fascination with women however, continues to confound me. Visually beautiful and behaviourally unique, the female sex will forever stimulate my imagination. Fortunately my parents taught me the advantages of willpower. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uc0x7xOap4I

Our economy sometimes needs to be stimulated with various banking or government initiatives. I know nothing of finance at this global level. Whenever I hear economists talk about a stimulus package I can’t help but think of the macabre experiments we students did on frogs, using electric impulses to get their wee legs to spasm. I saw an infomercial the other day that promoted a product that stimulated your leg muscles so you could improve circulation, get out more, and, as the visuals showed (wink, wink), maybe walk your dog with that fine looking neighbour you’ve seen pass by your front porch.

Many video games I find overstimulating. I remember the first time my son asked me to try Tetris. Wow! The music, the colours, the pace put me into a hyper state and I never played again. That was back in the early days of computer graphics, now the virtual reality simulators can allow you to feel like you are actually climbing a mountain or racing a car! Interesting word, Simulator: It is Stimulator without the T. Perhaps a definition of simulate could be: lacking the truth.

I have read there is such a thing as an addictive personality. I suspect it is in your body’s chemistry and I’m glad I don’t have it. During my time in university there were many drug temptations, but I  eschewed stimulants as my thoughts were always busy anyway. My desire was to be in control, so I was afraid to get high on artificial substances. I was called a Square for not doing drugs, but I learned to live with the label. Instead of chemical tripping, I got off on the variety of dating choices on campus.

In my career as a special education teacher I often had students labelled as ADD/ADHD. These children would sometimes take medications like Ritalin to give their particular brain chemistry a stimulus. In the right dosage this drug made a huge difference to the success levels of many in my classes. I have to shake my head though when I read stories of university students who take non prescribed methylphenidate  along with caffeinated beverages to be ‘up’ for exams.

I never want to be assimilated by a fictional Borg. Resistance to stimulation is never futile since it keeps me from being manipulated. A pretty woman however, is another story.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KFvoDDs0XM