Ethics Get High: An Ethical Review of MEDICAL MARIJUANA

By MIZ MANNERS, PUTTING THE HIGH IN HIGH SCHOOL

I know I shouldn't be doing it. It's illegal, for God's sake. That's not the issue. In illegal situations, there are still ethics to contend with. This is science. Ethics is a science, and I am just a rat in a maze, baby. In the space between what is legal, what's illegal, and what's just 'understood', you have some ethics to contend with. So have you got papers?

My dear friend's mother is very ill, and she qualifies for medical marijuana. She got the scrip, they took away her driver's license, and we're off. The poor woman, she shouldn't be alone right now. Never mind the fact that she has been getting high with me since I was in high school, long before she was ever diagnosed. That's not the issue here either.

To begin with, let's get one thing straight. This shit is goooooood. It's real, real good. Medical-grade marijuana is amazing stuff. I didn't get paranoid or weird. I felt totally relaxed, as did my terminally ill supplier. She is hooked up right now. There is a time when I gave up smoking weed; it didn't agree with me any more. Most of the time, I wasn't enjoying it. I'm sure lots of people feel this way about it, but when your friends are all doing it, it's really easy to forget that you don't actually like it.

It keeps me up all night, it makes me say weird things, and it sometimes puts me into a negative mode. For instance, I learned never to try and do any serious writing while under that influence. I became too critical of my own work. A notebook was always safe territory, anything goes!, but I have learned to steer clear of a computer while I'm high. After a while, after countless times, one bad high after another, I gave it up. And that was significant.

When you live a lifestyle where you say yes to almost anything, it's very significant to suddenly refuse to participate in something. Christ, when I was in my 20s, I said yes to everything! I still do, for the most part. But I started saying no to drugs, which surprised me most of all.

That was before the legalization of medical marijuana here in Michigan. Phew! We got high right before the figure skating started. Right after the bobsledding and whatever other ridiculous events are happening.

The experience of getting high is a very specific one; you are very unfocused, and yet you will focus on the strangest things. You go off on tangents, you lose your train of thought, and you drift about, falling prey to various stimuli. The television is usually on. It keeps the conversation going. Me and my friend's mom had a ball, giving our own critique, doling out our own brand of skating analysis, watching the landings, the double toe-loop, the sow-cow, the triple axel. We got a little emotional too.  

The poor female figure skater who lost her mom. When she finished, she was crying, and boy, so were we. This is my friend's mother that I am hanging out with here. Not my own mother, who really shouldn't ever smoke weed. This woman is like a second mother to me, and she and I don't tell her own daughter that we often get high together. It's top secret. We love it, it's so comforting, being high together. But when that young gal finished her skate, with tears in her eyes, we both welled up and let go. We cried and cried. Another aspect of being high is that you are a bit emotionally detached. So when you find yourself crying, it's very powerful and genuine. One day the woman sitting next to me will be gone. And her daughter will have to go on, and skate as fast and as precise as she can in her mom's absence.

I still don't think she needs to know that her mom and I get high together. Her mom is high all the time. She doesn't know that either. It's alright. So far, I'm not doing anything really wrong. Concealing the truth from my friend is a necessary evil; if I ever told her, she would be hurt and confused. She would be jealous.

My own ethical dilemma comes when I ask for a dime bag before I go. It's one thing to smoke it with a terminally ill patient. That's a part of her therapy. It's another thing when you're getting high at home alone and watching the skating. Then you're into illegal territory. When you're keeping a sick friend company and sharing in a little mini-trip and passing the time, you are doing the work of angels. You are a great companion and friend when you can make someone more comfortable. She is really, really hooked up right now. This shit is gooooooood!

My friend's mom is sick. She'll soon be sicker, and the good times will be fewer. I hope my friend can spend this time with her instead of me. But I'm getting something out of this too, and it's not just a dime bag. 

The dilemmas abound when you have a friend with drugs. She now has cannabis in pill form. I tried one, and it certainly works. My friend came by the other night and found us together. I had to fake like I wasn't high. I don't know how convincing I was. I felt like we were back in high school, using Visine and Altoids to cover a very obvious high. It's not the eyes, it's not the smell, it's the behavior that gives you away, don't you know that? We know that now. I made my exit, in an attempt to leave my friend and her mother alone for a while. And I don't want to get caught, that's the other side of this. In high school, I'm sure that my friend's mother was onto us in tenth grade.

Because she was smoking more weed than we were.