Saturday was stellar, all the stars seeming to align. Calvin was cool and calm and he behaved himself in our favorite cafe where our good US senator, Angus King (I), showed up in jeans and a fleece-lined vest, book in hand and glad, he said, to be back home from DC for a spell. I apprised him of Calvin's progress with the THCa and CBD cannabis oils, telling him that since we'd first enlisted his support over a year ago in the fight to legalize medical marijuana at the federal level, Calvin had come off of 76% of his benzodiazepine and was walking mostly without support for the first time in his life. Angus seemed pleased to hear the news, to hear the “real stories” as he put it, which were what pried him out of his self-described skepticism of legalizing the plant, even for medicinal use.
By Sunday, chaos had replaced any order we'd seen the day before. Michael was at his studio busy writing a proposal and by noon Calvin had worked himself into a frenzy, shrieking often at who knows what, even in the car where he is usually calm. Dear Lauren stopped by, breaking the madness and monotony a bit, though regrettably witnessing my exasperation, which played out in some ugly ways.
“I don't know how you do it,” Lauren said, lamenting the fact that I can't simply take Calvin and Nellie for a walk to the fields, can't garden in the back yard while Calvin plays. She knows I'm forever shielding my son's eyes from staring at the sun and making sure he doesn't careen into plant or rock or eat and choke on the sticks and bark he picks up in his fists, and that he can't sit still for any length of time enjoying toys because of the pharmaceutical drugs, and that at times I'm paralyzed by fear thinking my son might die from the ills of benzodiazepine withdrawal.
Still, a beautiful day begged us to step into its tender, ripening blades, to cast our shadows on the earth and feel the warm sun kneading our backs, and so we tried. But Calvin, suffering from the benzo wean, wanted none of it and even whined when we put him in his trike. Later, I wrote in his journal, starring each of these:
*rapid heart on way to Woody's. *red face.
*chin rash. *poor balance. agitated.
*intense.
*shrieking for hours. burps.
*super stubborn. wouldn't walk down street.
lots of fingering!!!!
SEIZURE TONIGHT?
After a tearful embrace, Lauren left and not long after his four o’clock dose of THCa cannabis oil Calvin seemed to reset, enough to stroll around the yard then down the block a bit, where I bent Woody's ear and expressed regret at not being able to stay and knock at least one bourbon back. On the way home I was relieved to see Calvin walking quite well. It made me wonder what our good Senator King might be doing to align the stars by debunking the age-old lies about cannabis, and if he's doing anything to right the wrongs and hypocrisies of corrupt powers that are working so hard against legalizing a plant with obvious medicinal benefits, a plant that is doing so much good for our son.
Calvin did not have a seizure last night and even slept fairly well, no doubt in my mind because of the cannabis, which is hard at work aligning the stars in so many of our children's lives.
By Sunday, chaos had replaced any order we'd seen the day before. Michael was at his studio busy writing a proposal and by noon Calvin had worked himself into a frenzy, shrieking often at who knows what, even in the car where he is usually calm. Dear Lauren stopped by, breaking the madness and monotony a bit, though regrettably witnessing my exasperation, which played out in some ugly ways.
“I don't know how you do it,” Lauren said, lamenting the fact that I can't simply take Calvin and Nellie for a walk to the fields, can't garden in the back yard while Calvin plays. She knows I'm forever shielding my son's eyes from staring at the sun and making sure he doesn't careen into plant or rock or eat and choke on the sticks and bark he picks up in his fists, and that he can't sit still for any length of time enjoying toys because of the pharmaceutical drugs, and that at times I'm paralyzed by fear thinking my son might die from the ills of benzodiazepine withdrawal.
Still, a beautiful day begged us to step into its tender, ripening blades, to cast our shadows on the earth and feel the warm sun kneading our backs, and so we tried. But Calvin, suffering from the benzo wean, wanted none of it and even whined when we put him in his trike. Later, I wrote in his journal, starring each of these:
*rapid heart on way to Woody's. *red face.
*chin rash. *poor balance. agitated.
*intense.
*shrieking for hours. burps.
*super stubborn. wouldn't walk down street.
lots of fingering!!!!
SEIZURE TONIGHT?
After a tearful embrace, Lauren left and not long after his four o’clock dose of THCa cannabis oil Calvin seemed to reset, enough to stroll around the yard then down the block a bit, where I bent Woody's ear and expressed regret at not being able to stay and knock at least one bourbon back. On the way home I was relieved to see Calvin walking quite well. It made me wonder what our good Senator King might be doing to align the stars by debunking the age-old lies about cannabis, and if he's doing anything to right the wrongs and hypocrisies of corrupt powers that are working so hard against legalizing a plant with obvious medicinal benefits, a plant that is doing so much good for our son.
Calvin did not have a seizure last night and even slept fairly well, no doubt in my mind because of the cannabis, which is hard at work aligning the stars in so many of our children's lives.
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| Calvin outside on Saturday, Photo by Michael Kolster |
The ups and downs of weaning g Onfi are so brutal. Last night, as I watched Weed on CNN, I couldn't help but feel despair over the obduracy of those in power, even as I smiled at the inexorable march of acceptance of Cannabis as a treatment.
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