Written by mindfulhal on 12 June 2010
I haven’t talked much about “edibles” on The Plant Rant, mostly because I haven’t gotten around to it. Recently I was speaking with a friend from Alpha Medicinals and got motivated to write this article. I want to get this out for the patients that are looking for a way to medicate with marijuana without smoking or using a vaporizer. This was necessary for me during 7 hour chemo sessions, and I had to learn along the way.
First, let me whet your appetite. Here’s Alpha’s full item list:
Alpha Medicinals Yummies
Now I’m willing to bet you’re ravenous! By the way, if you want any of these specific items, you’ll have to get them at a dispensary. I’m sure Alpha will tell you where to go if you contact them. They’re pretty common up North but are just now growing into the San Diego dispensaries. Ask for them by name and you’ll help a compassionate group of people grow their business and you’ll have some reliable marijuana edibles.
(Note: I don’t accept compensation of any kind for mentioning a product or website. I tell you about what I like, and insist that I don’t even get free samples. I buy their stuff, and if I like it I talk about it. And if I DON’T like it I talk about it. I may do ‘sponsored reviews’ later, because I maintain this site without any ads and I’m broke, but I’ll tell you clearly when I’m being paid for my opinion. Ok, that’s done, now let’s talk about edibles.)
The basics on edibles are simple. Unlike vaporizing the trichomes on the marijuana flowers by passing hot air over them, the dried and ground flowers are heated in butter or oil enough to release the active ingredients and infuse them into the butter/oil. Note that the active ingredients actually TRANSFER to the fat molecules in the oil, so the actual plant material is generally removed afterward and before cooking. This allows them to be efficiently used in cooking and delivered into your bloodstream. BUT, digestion is required first, as with any food, so the full effect takes about an hour to fully “mature”. Also, the effect will last quite a bit longer. I generally feel nothing by 4 or so hours after a vaporizer dose, but with edibles I feel some effect 6-8 hours later. (Just MUCH weaker.)
WARNING! Edibles are often yummy, by design. They don’t infuse pot into broccoli; they use cookies and candies and brownies and all sorts of rich buttery treats. If you overeat with normal sweets, you may get fat. If you overeat with marijuana treats, you could become uncomfortable for a little while. Remember that you can’t really overdose on marijuana. It just doesn’t happen. But you can get paranoid or feel like you have to just lay in one position for hours with your eyes closed. The rest won’t hurt you, but why not just eat moderately and avoid that effect, you know?
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, you need to know that most dispensaries have edibles in addition to dried flowers, but there’s no standardized system for measuring the potency of the treats. Most of these edibles will be made with about half a gram of ground pot, enough to give an experienced marijuana user a slight body buzz, or a new marijuana user a deeper high with more pain relief and possible sleepiness. Some edibles don’t even list their marijuana content, so assume with these that you’re dealing with more active ingredient. Knowing that it takes 30 minutes to an hour for the full effect to hit you, eat half or a third of the item and wait to see how it affects you. I’ve nibbled on a large ‘rice krispy treat for 4-5 hours during chemo with excellent results.
If you’ve read the Getting Started articles (at the top and left of this page you’ll find the links), you’ll remember that the two primary types of marijuana are sativa and indica. Indica tends to make you sleepier, for some people at least. So you’ll want to ask which type is used in an edible if you’re looking for a sativa (awake and alert) versus an indica (sleepy) effect. I use edibles only on really painful days, so I always prefer an indica-based product so that I can sleep the hours away.
The effect of digested marijuana is different than when it is smoked/vaporized. As I mentioned above, it lasts longer, but it also feels different. I prefer the instant effect of vapor hitting my lungs and the active ingredients going straight into my bloodstream. If I’m about to puke from chemo, I need that urgency. But the anti-nausea effect is just as strong with edibles; it just takes longer. So I use edibles only when vaporization is inconvenient or impossible (e.g. sitting in a hospital infusion center, they tend to frown on you pulling out a portable vaporizer and puffing away).
So on chemo days, I vaporize before I go, which will keep me reasonably comfortable for 3-4 hours. Then a few hours later while I’m hooked to the IV, I eat a half of an edible, wait 30-45 minutes and start slowly nibbling at the rest of it over the next 4 hours or so. I would never describe chemo days as pleasant, but it’s a hell of lot better when you’re not hurling every few minutes. And when the medicines burn through the vein (a unique sort of pain), the marijuana helps me relax through the pain and not mind as much.
Some of you may be wondering how they taste. I’ve had one item that was a little strange tasting, but mostly they were as good as an equivalent item that does NOT contain marijuana. You can always stick with a brand like Alpha that has reliable potency and taste. Pick a favorite and use that. And I must insert here a VERY IMPORTANT POINT: keep edibles away from kids. Let me repeat…AWAY from kids. They’re not old enough to make the decision to use marijuana, in my opinion at least, but they will eat that amazing brownie you left in the fridge every time. Lock it up if you have to (can you just imagine a little lock box in the fridge?! 
) but at a minimum make sure it’s clearly marked. (I mark mine as POISON even if it’s up in a cabinet they can’t reach, just in case.)
If you’ve avoided medical marijuana because the idea of breathing either smoke OR vapor into your lungs bothers you, edibles are your solution. They’re easy to consume (hard to STOP consuming, actually) and effective. A bit before bed or chemo they are a great solution for pain, nausea and relief from anxiety or “monkey mind”, when your thoughts race as is quite common for suffering patients. There are many brands and types and dosages, so read the labels carefully and nibble moderately. And as always, if you have any questions or want some personal help, just click that little Contact button at the top right of any The Plant Rant page and let me know. I love helping patients get help, and it’s free to you.
Stay well, friends!
Tags: dispensary, edibles, indica, marijuana, pot, sativa, trichomes
Posted in Education, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »
Written by mindfulhal on 26 May 2010
This story reflects badly on me but it’s a good story, so I’ll tell it anyway. Today I went to La Jolla to a dispensary called La Jolla Medicinal Cooperative (LJMC). I was running low on sativa marijuana strains and decided to pick up one or two. Sativa-dominant marijuana strains, for those of you who maybe new and haven’t read the Getting Started articles (they’re over there on the left!) are less likely to make you sleepy. As you might expect, they’re best for use during the day when you need to move around or be more productive.
It was nice to be out. My symptoms are bad today and I was feeling very uncomfortable this morning, but I wanted to push it a bit and see whether I could get a little stronger. (Plus, I didn’t want to use marijuana and drive. Big Time No-No.) I walked into LJMC feeling pretty tired, having just walked up their steps. I don’t know why they put a collective on the 2nd floor without an elevator! If you are not able to handle stairs, this is not the collective for you. Up to this morning, it had been worth the hard climb for me though.
I was greeted by one of the co-owners. I believe his name is Jason but I have bad chemo-brain today and can’t really remember. Chemo-brain, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a cute reference to the fact that chemo patients often experience severe memory loss and otherwise can just act stupid because they’re being systematically poisoned to death, or at least pretty close to it. It’s humiliating, especially for a guy who makes his living with his brain and not his brawn. But that’s a subject for another rant.
Jason was his usual friendly self; perhaps a bit distracted by the attractive young woman that I later learned was his wife or girlfriend. I sat for maybe two minutes before I was invited back to the bud room. (Just enough time to see which dispensaries had coughed up the big bucks to advertise in the first few pages of the major marijuana culture magazines.)
I was admiring some beautiful marijuana plants in the bud room when the only LJMC employee came in the room, a man that I had seen on previous visits out in the waiting room acting as a greeter. I don’t remember his name (you’ll get used to this theme with me,) so let’s call him Mac. He’s a pretty big, tough-looking, slightly dark-skinned guy. Never smiles. Kinda intimidating. Which was ok, if not ideal, when he was the greeter/bouncer. But in any case, it appeared that he was also now acting as a BT (bud-tender, like a bartender, but with bud!) and would be helping me with my order.
I did my usual thing, asking what was freshest, which hybrids were indica-dominant and which were sativa-dominant, etc. One of the best things about this dispensary is a very simple thing: they have all sativa-dominant strains on the left and all the indica-dominant strains on the right. VERY helpful for a newbie like me!
And being such a novice, I was shocked to realize how little Mac actually knew about marijuana. He answered incorrectly or simply didn’t know the answers most of the time. We repeatedly had to interrupt Jason to get answers to very simple questions. But everyone has to learn, so I kept up a attempt to engage him friendly small talk and rolled with it. I was worried, though, that I had irritated him by asking questions, or maybe by going to his boss for the answers when he said he didn’t know.
I chose my favorite from this dispensary, Jackie Haze and another reliable strain at LJMC, Super Sour Diesel. Mac started packing the first eighth in a bottle that was clearly too small, so I assumed they were out of the larger containers. But when he began to crush the buds down to make room for new ones, I asked him with a huge smile to please not crush them and just put the rest in a separate container. He did that, and put the next eighth in a properly-sized container. I was pretty sure he was unhappy with me at this stage, because he was GLARING at me. I found this hilarious for some reason, but managed to just smile back. I was being a really good boy up to this point, trying to make everyone like me like I always do, chattering and smiling and trying to make people laugh at me. So far. Keep reading.
This rather detailed background, by the way, is designed not just to inform, but also to filter out anyone who isn’t really interested in reading a real story just now. But as they continue their attention-deficit-disorder-fueled ricocheting path around the Internet, we who do love stories enough to drop whatever else we are doing and fall into them will continue. That sentence is messed up, but I’ll fix it some other time.
Jason announced that he was stepping out for a bit and Mac prepared to ring up my selections. I added three little packets of marijuana oil capsules, because I had been wanting to ‘do some research for the blog’ and give an account of the effect of oil capsules versus the effect with my normal vaporizer use. The packets were priced on the wall boldly: 1 FOR $10, 2 FOR $15. So I asked, holding up the packets,
“How much for 3?”
He appeared puzzled, then looked at the price board and said,
“They’re 1 for 10 or 2 for 15.”
“But how many for 3? Would that be like $20?” I said with a big smile, hoping for a good deal. Mac looked back at the price board and said, hesitantly,
“Twenty-five.”
“Seriously?”, I blurted, “It’s MORE expensive per packet if I buy three?”
I may have chemo brain, but I know 25 divided by 3 is more than 15 divided by 2, I thought.
He nodded, appeared to reconsider, and said uncertainly,
“Twenty?”
I jumped at the deal. “Would you do it for twenty?”
“Yep.” And that was that.
I talked with another patient as Mac got things entered into the computer, and then he announced:
“120 dollars”
I smiled, but I was nervous about exactly this happening.
“I think it’s 110, buddy, can you check again?”
“Man, I’m just reading you what it says here.” He spread his arms out, communicating that it was out of our hands. I repeated,
“It’s 110. Ninety for the pot, 20 for the oil caps. That’s 110.” This time without a smile.
He showed me the computer screen, where an incomprehensible set of prices were listed. An eighth for 57.14? What is that about? I thought. This is Wednesday, so the first eighth is 60 and the second is half price, or 30. The pills are 20. Is my chemo-brain so bad that I’m actually adding this wrong. Let’s see. Six plus nine…add the zero…thus ran my internal dialogue. What I said out loud was,
“What’s your boss’s name?”
“Jason” (we’ve covered this right? Could be Frank or Guenther or whatever.)
“Let’s get Jason.”
“He just left. He’s outta here.”
“I saw that. Let’s call him.” I turned and apologized to the other patient waiting his turn, and he reassured me,
“No problem. This is unbelievable.”
This is where it gets fun. Mac put his hands on the counter, leaned toward me and started shouting at me. I can’t recall the exact words well, maybe because at that point adrenaline was doing its job. But he proceed to communicate quite effectively that I had to adjust my attitude, not use that kind of tone with him, back up and slow down, etc.
I stared at him until he finished, waited for about 10 seconds, then told him not to raise his voice at me. Ever. Again.
“I’m the customer here. You yell at customers? That’s the way you’re gonna keep us coming in here. You wanna ruin this place? That’s the way to do it.” I didn’t yell at him, but I was lecturing him big time.
He started in again, more aggressively and just as loudly and he started to move toward the end of the counter toward me. (If you’re still reading, this is what I call the Really Good Part!) I was thinking suddenly that this guy was actually going to rush me. I was going to get beat up in a dispensary in posh La Jolla, California by a guy whose name I don’t even know, over 10 bucks. Nice, Hal. But wait, there’s more!
Without doubt I was in full limbic-brain fight mode at that stage. I don’t generally respond well to shouting anyway, and today is not the day for an exception. I looked him right in the eyes, waited until he paused and said, “Mother f*&ker.” For the first time IN MY LIFE, I looked at a man and hurled this particular insult. And as horrible as it is, I’m just a little proud that I inflected it like Samuel L. Jackson would. Cold, quiet, pronounced to hit the f-word hard and solid in a way that says, “Bring it!” to any post-pubescent human with testicles. Now I’m about as far from perfect as it gets, but I try really hard to communicate according to a simple rule. Say only what is true, useful and kind. What I said wasn’t true. It certainly wasn’t useful and it was absolutely not kind. Fail. I was already feeling like refried death, then this unfriendly guy yelled at me, I got angry and I lost control for just long enough to tell this large, scary-looking dude he has sex with his mother. Oh yeah. Prison rules, baby.
For about 5 slow seconds I thought he was coming over the counter at me. Veins popped out at his forehead and he started his surge, but then pulled himself up short. He grabbed my money (I had left $120 on the counter,) shoved it my direction and said,
“You’re outta here. You have a nice day.”
I suspect from his tone that he did not truly wish me a pleasant day. I took my money and countered,
“Get Jason on the phone, right now.” Can’t you just smell the testosterone? Having just barely avoided a thrashing, I should have picked up my money, shut my mouth and walked out. But no. I was muttering threatening orders to the guy. But he called his boss, told him a rather colorful version of recent events, and then hung up. He muttered that Jason was coming back to the dispensary.
I went out to wait in the waiting room; that is what they are for, after all. Jason came in five minutes later with his friend, and I met them at the door apologizing. I told him what I’d done, told him it was entirely un-called-for and that he had every right to kick me out. He suggested that he personally ring me up for $110 and call it even. I was thrilled at the prospect. When he walked back to the bud room, his friend gave me a big open smile and said some kind words that completely brought me back to myself. I was suddenly deeply ashamed of my behavior, especially now that I’d had some time to drain the adrenaline and get the higher brain functions working again. I hate that moment of knowing that you screwed up and you just have to love yourself anyway and move on.
Naturally, I couldn’t leave it there. I popped up and went to the bud room to apologize. I walked up to the counter where Mac was helping another customer and interrupted them with,
“I’m so sorry, man. I was totally out of line and I should not have talked to you that way.”
I extended my hand and he backed away and refused to shake it. Jason looked at him hard and told him to shake my hand. He did, and I repeated the apology with as much sincerity as I could muster. I think I got through. He was ruffled still, but not raising his voice or making aggressive moves. Progress. I paid Jason, smiled and said sorry and goodbye to everyone and dragged my humiliated butt out of there.
Jason is fantastic, and I like him even better now that I know what a wonderful spirit his wife/girlfriend is. It’s rare that a complete stranger like that makes such a profound and positive impression on me. I like that he’s attracted to that goodness. But even though Jason solved the problem calmly and with great customer care, he needs to understand that it’s dangerous to have an employee who is at least borderline violent. It’s not ok to shout at customers, and definitely not ok to project a physical threat with your body language. It’s scary and legally it’s called assault. Dispensaries exist today because people like me need medical help. Not just the strong and able and totally-together people, but the sick and weak and falling-apart people. I was absolutely in the wrong in this situation; I shouldn’t have insulted Mac, much less used profanity in the process. But before I made that big mistake, Mac had already, by shouting if nothing else, established himself as unfriendly, unknowledgeable and unsuited for anything but the briefest contact with customers. I spend a lot of time promoting the use of marijuana to people who truly need it, but find many are worried about dealing with ‘violent drug dealers’ that they’ve heard about in government-funded propaganda. I explain over and over how easy and friendly it is. But if one of my friends with this very common background had been at LJMC today, she might never get the care she needs because she would never approach any collective again.
So for medical marijuana patients in the San Diego area, I have to recommend against visiting La Jolla Medicinal Cooperative. The stairs signaled pretty clearly, when I first visited, that maybe this wasn’t the place for patients with limited mobility in any case. I panted my way up the stairs that day, and the decent quality and variety of the medicine and the great Wednesday deal and Jason’s skill worked together to bring me back. But now I have to say sorry to Jason; I won’t be back as long as I’m afraid of your employee. And to those who do decide to go to LJMC, ask for Jason and be REALLY nice to everyone else, just in case.
Thanks for staying with me through this longish story. I hope it was as fun for you to read as it was for me to write. And I hope you don’t think too badly of me for my mistake. And, by the way, those of you who were paying close attention might be wondering, “If Hal has such bad chemo-brain, how does he remember these details?” I wonder that myself. It’s not like I was taking notes. But the entire experience seems to be burned into my brain. All except the names. Go figure. Also, I’ve learned that a light dose of a sativa strain marijuana can help me relax and recall events, even though I normally forget what I’m saying in the stress of the moment when I’m talking. So ironically, the Jackie Haze that was at the center of this hullaballoo was ultimately what allowed me to write the story. I think that’s kinda cool.
Don’t forget to check out the rest of The Plant Rant while you’re here, comment on the articles and come back often. We update often. You can also follow us on Twitter — @theplantrant for even more frequent updates.
Tags: dispensary, marijuana, pot, sativa
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