May 21st, 2023, should have been just another Sunday.
It should have been a slow day, one spent catching up with friends, sharing a meal, or simply doing nothing at all. I wish it had been that kind of day. Instead, it became the day my body stopped working the way it always had.
I woke up with a pain in my shoulder that didn’t feel right. Within hours, the pain had spread down my arm like fire—hot, intense, and unrelenting. I could barely move either of my arms. They no longer felt like my own. After countless appointments and confusing conversations, I was diagnosed with Parsonage-Turner Syndrome. It’s rare, unpredictable, and debilitating. There’s no clear treatment, no simple solution—just pain, weakness, and a long road ahead.
At that point, I was staring down the barrel of a very different life. I was handed prescriptions for strong painkillers, but I didn’t want to go that route. I had already made the decision to stop drinking—something I’d battled with for a while—and the idea of replacing one crutch with another just didn’t sit right. I knew I needed to try something different.
That’s when cannabis entered the picture—not just as a last resort but as a lifeline.
I had used cannabis recreationally over the years, but I never really understood its potential until I found myself in this situation. With a background as a trained ambulance assistant, I approached the idea with a mix of curiosity and caution. I started experimenting with strains, methods, and dosages, looking for relief—looking for anything that could help me feel like myself again.
And it worked.
Cannabis didn’t just help me manage the pain. It helped me focus, something I’ve always struggled with because of ADD. It gave me the mental clarity to slow down and break things into manageable pieces. With the pain dialled down and my thoughts a bit more organised, I was finally able to look at my life and ask, “What now?”
The answer came in the form of a cannabis store.
Opening the store was a leap of faith—one that I might not have made if not for everything I’d been through. But the process of launching the business became part of my healing. It gave me purpose. It gave me structure. It also gave me the opportunity to help others who were just as lost and in pain as I had been.
These days, I vape and smoke, but I prefer vaping because it’s more discreet. There’s still a stigma out there, and I like to help others find ways to incorporate cannabis into their lives in a way that suits them. Durban Poison is my go-to strain during the day—it keeps me sharp and energetic. For pain, I lean on Skywalker, and at night, I usually go for something mellow to help me sleep. It’s all about trial, error, and responsible experimentation.
The physical benefits are one thing, but the mental and emotional transformation I’ve experienced? That’s been just as powerful. Giving up alcohol was the hardest thing I’ve ever done—more challenging than losing the use of my arms. But cannabis helped me through it. It helped me sit with my thoughts during those quiet, lonely nights and figure out who I was and who I wanted to become.
Therapy helped, too. Funny enough, my therapist is someone I knew back in primary school. Life has a way of coming full circle, doesn’t it? That connection helped make the healing process feel even more grounded and familiar.
As for my family—well, that was a journey of its own. My parents are very conservative. When I first told my mom I wanted to open a cannabis shop, she said she’d kick me out of the family. My dad was skeptical, too. It took two full years, but eventually, they saw the difference it made in my life. They saw me become a healthier, happier version of myself, and today, they’re fully supportive. I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m so grateful that I have.
Having someone in your life who understands your journey makes the process a little easier. For me, that someone is my girlfriend. She doesn’t use cannabis, which is actually something I really appreciate. She keeps me grounded. She notices when something’s off—if I’m more anxious or sluggish than usual- and that helps me adjust my strains or dosage. She even helps me choose the more discreet vapes since she’s better at picking up odours than I am. She’s become an unexpected but important part of the process.
I don’t hang out with the stereotypical stoner crowd. This isn’t about getting high for me—it’s about healing, education, and helping others find a better way. That’s what I do through my shop. In the first six months alone, I saw how cannabis changed people’s lives. Better sleep, less pain, a little more peace. Every day, I get to be a part of someone’s breakthrough. And every day, that reminds me I’m on the right path.
To those who still think cannabis has no medicinal value, I say this: You’re missing the bigger picture. It’s not just about THC or getting stoned—it’s about understanding your body, experimenting safely, and finding what helps you feel better. Like any other medicine, cannabis isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. It might not be for you. But it might be the thing that turns your life around.
My advice to anyone suffering is simple: Be selfish. Focus on yourself. Your well-being—both mental and physical—should be your top priority. You can’t show up for others if you’re not showing up for yourself. And most importantly, remember that you’re not alone.
There are other people out there trying to figure it out, just like you.
Disclaimer: This story reflects personal experiences and is not intended as medical advice. Always consult with a qualified healthcare provider before starting any new treatment, including cannabis, for medicinal use.
Rolling Stoner supports responsible cannabis use.