The Austin Chronic: I Can Now Legally Possess Cannabis Oil and Edibles: Meet the newest patient in Texas’ Compassionate Use Program – Columns

I just drizzled cannabis oil under my tongue with an oral syringe and started a stopwatch. I’ll let you know when I start feeling high.

OK, now.

It’s been 10 minutes and 32 seconds. That’s three times as fast as an edible takes to hit me. And in just two hours I’ll be back to my temperate state.

I’m really loving this tincture, containing 10 milligrams of THC per milliliter, and the clean high I get from the sublingual, aka under-the-tongue, dosage. A half milliliter makes my brain glow but I’m still sharp enough that I could successfully represent myself in court. 10mg has me smiling and impervious to stress. 20mg might have me dictating philosophical revelations into the Notes app on my phone.

And what’s special about this little glass bottle of giggle juice is that I procured it at a dispensary because, and I can hardly believe I’m typing these words: I can now legally possess cannabis in Texas – even in scary places like Williamson County or the notorious Sierra Blanca checkpoint where I once spent an awfully boring day in a jail cell.

This major life development got rolling last month when Texas Original CEO Nico Richardson informed me that many more Texans could qualify for prescription edibles and tinctures in Texas’ Compassionate Use Program (TCUP) for widely diagnosed conditions like peripheral neuropathy and post-traumatic stress disorder.

I’d been previously diagnosed with PTSD by a doctor who I saw because I was waking up gasping for air, thinking I was in imminent danger. Those symptoms immediately followed an incident when I was working as a night clerk at a hotel in East Lansing, Mich., in 2007. I was chilling in the lobby, shoes off, feet up, eating from an industrial-sized carton of potato salad, and watching The Fifth Element when four armed men rammed through the front door’s flimsy magnetic lock and dragged me behind the front desk where I was ordered to unlock a safe that required keys I didn’t possess, so I spent the next 8½ minutes getting pistol whipped, badly injuring my cheekbones, and having guns shoved into my mouth with fingers flinching on the trigger.

Three years later, working another late-night shift at Planet K, I got robbed at gunpoint again, though that time I didn’t get a face-altering beatdown. Both events left me with episodes of involuntary stress: Nerves might spin me out in a motel lobby on tour and the sounds of distant gunshots can trigger an uncontrolled rush of memories. I doubt that whatever PTSD I have compares to the many people who’ve experienced war, but I will say this: Those 8½ minutes at the hotel have replayed in my mind more than any memory I have … and that’s kinda fucking sad.

What’s even sadder is it took me 13 years to anxiously finish watching The Fifth Element.

When I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Matthew Brimberry at the Texas Cannabis Clinic, I didn’t know whether to expect an overly suspicious evaluation or a weed dealer with a stethoscope – and he was neither. Our telehealth visit, following a PTSD diagnostic survey, was the most insightful, unhurried, and thoughtful medical appointment I’ve ever had, not just in regard to PTSD but in learning about how the brain responds to stress and discussing therapies that I could use in conjunction with cannabis.

I also didn’t have to pretend that I don’t already use marijuana as a stress reliever. It’s just that I can now use it legally and with medical-grade products. One thing Dr. Brimberry told me really summed it up: “Everyone is deserving of safe, legal access to medicine that is helpful for them.”

Kevin Curtin will be back in two weeks with more cannabis musings. Subscribe at austinchronicle.com/newsletters to get “The Austin Chronic” delivered to your inbox.

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