This post is dedicated to the memory of a chap I never even met. I didn’t even know his name, nor his age. My mom’s friend’s son who committed suicide last week.
A while back I wrote a testimonial about my Ketamine Treatment experience for the Ketamind Clinic in Paarl. It was very well received by both medical and support staff, and I got great feedback from friends and acquaintances.
My mother was anti Ketamine Treatment from day 1. She even went as far as accusing (Dr.) Schalkie of using “high-falutin” language to essentially con me into becoming a drug addict. The world is such where the doctors are seen as the con men, not the Christians.
But a few months back she asked for a copy of my testimonial, to pass on to her friend’s son who was struggling with depression. Of course! I gladly sent the PDF version (she is absolutely not allowed to know about this blog), and never gave it another thought. (I was also wildly impressed with the fact my mother was acknowledging mental health interventions that didn’t involve Jesus).
You see, when you create something that gets loads of positive feedback, you think you have done a wonderful thing and all will be glorious going forward. Maybe it’s my “white saviour” genes. I never considered that someone would read it and not be helped.
And you already know how it ended. He finished another stint at a mental health clinic in town with a very good reputation, went home, and ended his own suffering once and for all.
The news hit me hard (and I only found out about it after his funeral), but amazingly guilt was not an emotion that I felt. Shock, sadness and pity were all there, but again, this was a bloke I did not know at all.
Like many of us, I’ve probably been through enough to have my emotions reasonably under control, and my feelings were not directed towards guilt or blame. Would I have helped him if I could have? In a heartbeat. Is it possible to help everyone? Of course not.
But it occurred to me for the first time that I spent a long time writing my story to help others who may be in a similar situation, but it never once crossed my mind that someone might read it and not be helped at all. A definite wake up call and a heavy dose of reality.
It brought me back to earth a bit and forced me to think about how I look after my own, now stable, mental health.
My wife (tricksy hobbitses) decided a while back we should cut loose one day and try some THC gummies, seeing as they were now legal and freely available from Nature’s Pharmacy down the road, with only a simple membership application required.
I popped in at the store on the way home from work one afternoon, having completed my membership application and supporting documentation online, to meet the dumbest store assistant I have ever encountered in my life.
Think of a stereotypical weed shop employee, combine that with the intelligence and acumen of Jacob Zuma, realise he is hopelessly stoned on top of this, and multiply that by 10.
You might have understood how I felt having to redo the membership application again. A cellphone number, reference number or ID number all being “too much” for this fellow to make use of.
I will never know what possessed me to take what was essentially medical advice from this genius. But I asked for an “after work anti anxiety gummy” for my wife and I. He had just the thing! He pulled down the only glass cookie jar from the shelf and pulled out 2 Wine Gum looking edibles. Amazing in hindsight that he had “just the thing” when there was only 1 “thing” on the shelf.
“Take half. Wait half an hour. Take the other half.”
Simple instructions. Too simple in hindsight. No questions about current medication regime nor mental health history.
I wasn’t worried at all. It’s legal now for a reason right? It’s just like buying a few beers down at Tops: no interview required.
Valentine’s Day seemed like an appropriate date. So we stocked up on snacks and scratched around for Arrested Development in the Disney+ lineup.
Half now, half later. Easy enough. Chill on the couch and watch Arrested Development. Tobias is one of the greatest TV characters of all time, in my opinion.
“If you’ll allow me for a moment to take off my ‘acting pants’ and pull my ‘analrapist stocking’ over my head” was enough to send me into a bout of giggles I have not experienced since I was a child.
Then it got weird. Lingering anxiety. A symptom I have struggled with greatly in the past, so I knew exactly what it was. Paranoia. Massive Paranoia.
I needed to sleep. Hallucinations. Incapable of sleep. My wife’s music drifting in and out of my consciousness, making the hallucinations that much more bizarre. And she was playing the Bridgerton Soundtrack, not Nelly the Elephant.
With one stupid gummy I almost instantly set myself back 2 years in mental health recovery. And the paranoia made it feel like I would never make a comeback again. I felt absolutely terrible, a feeling I was unfortunately very well familiar with.
For 2 days I was back in The Hole. Friends’ party cancelled, dinner plans cancelled. Checkers monthly shop cancelled. My body would not allow me to leave the house.
But I recovered fortunately, and lived to tell Schalkie the tale. I touched a nerve.
Schalkie is an anti-THC nerd. Not for moral or ethical reasons (I don’t think), but purely for scientific reasons, having spent many nerd-hours studying the interactions and results.
I am paraphrasing his professional feedback here, but it was along the lines of “why the fuck are you even touching that shit with your mental health history? My warnings in the past could literally not have been more clear. Why you such a damn fool, son?”
And a lot more well researched feedback with regards to THC benefits (very, very few) and its interactions with mental health medication and its impact on mental health patients. He tried his best to impart his knowledge on me, but much like Mr. Brink from Std. 7 math’s, I feel he was left slightly disappointed.
We also got onto the topic of shops like Nature’s Pharmacy, where a membership application is essentially a consent form for the ‘business’ to grow your weed, and you simply “buy it back” from them. A very, very grey legal area.
Not to mention the “pharmacy” essentially advising on and dispensing psychoactive drugs.
I have probably attempted every mental health medication on the market with varying degrees of success, but with lots of experience gained. If I’m chatting to someone about medical intervention I’m always sure to say “this is only my experience, you need to engage with a professional about this stuff before making any decisions.” Not because I was warned to do so, but because I’m not a complete fool, in spite of what PK might have others believe.
Today I’ll end with the wise words of Billy Mack from Love Actually: “Listen to your Uncle Billy kids. Don’t buy drugs! Become a Rockstar, they’ll give them to you for free.”
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