Down the rabbit hole: My first foray into medical cannabis

One of my earliest memories is from a sleep clinic in 1994, watching The Snowman on VHS at 2am with other children on the ward. I’ve struggled with sleep since childhood – three consecutive days awake wasn’t unusual, bringing memory loss, haziness and a surreal detachment from reality. The depression that followed compounded over the years.

Sleep problems have cost me jobs, relationships and opportunities. They have damaged my self-esteem and mental health, agitating my depression and borderline personality disorder (BPD). Between 12 and 30, it was particularly brutal. I tried Valerian drops from age five to 13; they tasted awful and simply didn’t work. As a teenager, sleep aids simply weren’t prescribed.

My nighttime worries often start in the day or evening, especially a sense of foreboding about the night, knowing I have a long time to be alone with my thoughts or try to occupy myself to avoid these thoughts. This is often worsened by the changing of seasons from long summer days to cold winter nights.

To compound my struggles with sleep, I also have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS), which most people associate with hypermobility. It also means I have problems with posture and pains in my back, hips, legs and hands. Some days, I struggle to write and type, sometimes my grip gives out or spasms. I’ll struggle to open my grinder without help. Or my hand will just let go completely, sending a drink flying. I recently spilt coffee on myself at work because my hand let go without me wanting it to. White jumper. White shirt. Embarrassing doesn’t cover it.

I started smoking cannabis in the 2000s. Sleeping tablets gave me restless legs or put my body to sleep while my mind raced. I suffered with sleep paralysis, next-day grogginess and a general feeling of ineffectiveness. Cannabis relaxed both my body and mind, while the ritual of rolling became meditative, even comforting.

Like many, I’ve felt ostracised for needing cannabis to function. It’s acceptable to drink half a bottle of wine nightly, but we criminalise cannabis users. We don’t treat people taking other medications this way.

My biggest hurdle is the initial setup cost. Then, quality, consistency of supply, and speed of delivery. Especially speed. I need what I need when I need it.

While the black market has helped, I’ve often found that quality can be hit and miss, it’s not like there’s any official body or quality control to offer a quality guarantee. It is cheaper, though. And more easily accessible. Growing up in a tight-knit community meant reliable connections, but five years ago, I moved, and finding regular supply became increasingly difficult.

I usually go through roughly an ounce a week – 2.5 to 3.5 grams daily, depending on quality. Better flower meaning I need less. Seven days into a dry spell, I knew I couldn’t continue like this. Night times are hard enough, and I was going through a really rough week. The droughts make me unstable, and stability is everything with BPD. Going legal would end the supply anxiety. After years of uncertainty, it was time to try and go legal.

Looking for a way in

I knew that cannabis could be legally prescribed since 2018, after sick children like Billy Caldwell made the headlines and changed the law, but for years, I just assumed it was only oils that could be offered. It took seeing Instagram ads featuring well-known faces like Jordan from Rizzle Kicks, Big Narstie and even Michael Barrymore to realise flower was available.

Unfortunately, getting flower on the NHS isn’t an option yet. Private clinics exist, so that’s the route I must take, but I have concerns. I don’t want to vape. I’m a tobacco smoker, and I don’t like vapes. But I hear this is non-negotiable.

Price is another worry. Can they match my current prices and demand? How long will it take to get flower in hand? What will the quality look like? How do I choose a clinic? What flower choices do I have? How protected am I legally if stopped? Will I always get what I need?

I see discussion online about irradiated cannabis, flower that is exposed to ionising radiation to meet medical safety standards. Some patients say it changes taste or smoothness; others see it as essential for safety. Personally, it doesn’t factor into my decision, so I decide to take the plunge and take a look at my options.

Finding the right clinic

My biggest hurdle is the initial setup cost. Then, quality, consistency of supply, and speed of delivery. Especially speed. I need what I need when I need it.

I head to Medbud.wiki first. The website is busy but has useful headers and dropdowns for different clinics with full price breakdowns, Companies House information and CQC reports. It kind of reminds me of an old torrent site, lots of reading, but you’ll find what you need with a bit of patience.

Clinics come in all shapes and sizes, and in the end, I narrowed it down to four contenders. CB1 offers all consultations for £50 yearly with affordable flower and 3-5 day delivery. 626 positive Google reviews suggest they’re reliable, if a bit Cotswolds-posh. Mamedica immediately puts me off with their £200 sign-up (or £150 onboarding plus £75 monthly fees), sterile banking-app aesthetic, and expensive pricing they seem determined to obscure. Alternaleaf has the cheapest entry point at £10 sign-up and £10 monthly with free repeat prescriptions, but nothing about them grips me. Then there’s Integro: CQC report (massive green flag), £49 consultation, £10 prescription fee, 1-3 day delivery, and they name their clinical staff on the website. They open an hour later than CB1 too, meaning better appointment availability.

Between CB1 and Integro, speed decides it – that 1-3 day delivery wins. If the strains disappoint, I can always switch later.

Signing up

My Integro journey starts with seven initial questions through a registry pop-up on the website; there’s always a pop-up on this site, and it’s a little frustrating. A sign-up link arrives via email, where I confirm details and agree to what feels like twenty-five separate rules. They also ask for my doctor’s email address.

The medical questionnaire is straightforward: list your conditions and medications you’ve tried. I upload documents: GAP proof for cheaper prescriptions, summary of care record, proof of ID and address. I’d requested my medical notes a while ago when first considering this, hoping they’re still acceptable despite being slightly dated.

A few days later, I received a call offering an appointment ten days away. I asked for something sooner, and all credit due, they moved me to midweek, cutting the wait by five days. Not as fast as I’d hoped, but it’s something. All my documents are accepted, so now we wait. I’m nervous, but that’s anticipation, I’m sure. The end of supply problems and quality issues could be close to an end…

The first consultation

That Wednesday couldn’t come quickly enough. Three nights without sleep by now.

11:45 on the dot, my video call arrives. My clinician (who remains nameless for confidentiality) is warm, friendly, and smiling. She puts me at ease instantly.

We have 15 minutes. We cover how much I currently use, when, what for, strengths and strain names I know. Most importantly: why medical cannabis? She’s thorough without being intrusive.

We agree on an initial trial of 25 grams: a daytime strain and a nighttime strain (20% and 27% THC, respectively). Zkittlez Pie for day, Cali Sunset for night. We’ll reconvene in a month, giving me time to settle in and purchase a vaporiser.

I pay £167 and change – more than my £140 budget, but not ruinously so. As expected, I’m told I must vaporise the flower to stay legal. Smoking cannabis remains illegal, and combustion burns off around 70% of the terpenes before they reach you. Vaporising isn’t something I want to do, but it’s something I’m willing to do.

I received the payment link that day and placed my order. The next big unknown: what will I actually receive? And more worrying, will I get more if I run out?

My first prescription, thanks Royal Mail

Royal Mail delivers the next day while I’m out. My partner signs for it. I race home, vaporiser borrowed from a friend (Sapphire Storm, for those interested).

The presentation impresses me; it’s a step above dodgy bags, but not as elaborate as Cali packs. Official. Medical. And an absolute menace to open for the first time with my EDS hands. I received one ten-gram tub and one fifteen-gram bag. The bag resembles a grated cheese packet, soft blue and white, completely opaque. The white tub has a firm seal I need help opening. The pouch is easier and includes a Boveda pack for moisture control.

Both strains leave the same impression: neither looks fresh and green. Very small, older nugs. I’d have taken that back to my local guy, but I’ve come too far to quit now.

The taste is fine. Earthy, not floral. I usually prefer fruity terpenes. The Zkittlez Pie has real black pepper notes that help relax me, but these don’t feel as strong as street supply.

I’m impressed by the convenience and how quickly we’ve come, but it’s not strong enough. The dosing label confuses me, too: 0.3 grams daily, but 0.2 grams at a time?

While getting cannabis to my door is impressive, the flower I’m prescribed runs out far sooner than intended. Final verdict: it’s nice. It works. But it leaves much to be desired. I decide to take the plunge one more time.

The re-up

I called Integro two days before running out. My prescription only lasted a week and a half; you supposedly use less vaporising, but the smaller doses and shorter sessions mean I use almost as much as I would rolling.

‘Your next available consultation is…’ Two weeks away. My heart sinks. ‘Nothing sooner?’ Only one day earlier available.

I booked it and accepted that I’ll have to wait. So it’s back to my friend’s supply. Back to doobies. And it’s a very warm return, especially that first doobie in the morning and last one at bedtime. I’ve missed those. I can’t help feeling medical isn’t the Mecca we were promised.

It’s always reassuring to see the same clinician in any medical aspect. It gives you both a chance to build a rapport and to get to know each other, so as you can imagine, I was very pleased to see my upbeat and knowledgeable consultant again.

We spend another 15 minutes discussing developments. I told her I ran out quickly, and the medicine worked okay, but it wasn’t as good as my usual unauthorised sources.

She asks what I’d like. I want something from the Big Narstie Medical line (BNM), which has 27-30% THC and fantastic reviews. While I usually dislike celebrity endorsements, Big Narstie has a long cannabis history and understands the people and product.

She agrees to Papaya Bantz and suggests Super Boof (fantastic name) at 30% THC for nighttime. The Super Boof is pricier than hoped, but I’ll gamble at that strength.

This month, I’m told I can take up to 50 grams. Finances force me to order 20 grams now (ten of each), then space out through the month. I can pick from different strains without another consultation until April, my six-month review. Each consultation costs £50, so I’m glad to avoid that for a while.

I pay my prescription fee, and Royal Mail delivers the next day, like clockwork.

Looking back at that sleep clinic in 1994, watching The Snowman at 2am, I never imagined I’d one day legally order cannabis to my door.

When the postman arrived, I could NOT be happier. BNM Papaya Bantz, my 27% THC daytime choice, has a wonderful fruity smell with big, colourful buds. It doesn’t alleviate back pain, but it works brilliantly for anxiety and emotional regulation. I’m much less stressed in the morning after vaping. And I know I can get this again when needed – it’s regulated, help is available. I’m no longer chancing it. I’m still no friend of vaping, but I’m trying desperately to follow the rules. The ten grams last about a week.

Super Boof is beautiful. Lavender smells, rich purple amongst dark, healthy greens, light on the stalk. This is some of the nicest I’ve ever had, and it works as well as it looks. I still take a while to drift off, but I sleep every night now. Out by midnight, awake at seven. Perfect rhythm.

Both are covered in beautiful trichomes, thick and slightly sticky, perfect for use. This feels like proof that the journey might actually be worth the effort. I can justify the Papaya Bantz price, though I’ll try cutting costs next order.

If 50 grams lasts the month, I’ve made the right decision. The quality of these flowers has shaped my view into a positive one.

Life as a medical cannabis patient

I’ve just placed a third order independently – no instructions needed. Through the Integro portal, I picked my strains and ordered. I ordered on Saturday, so I’m not expecting delivery until Tuesday. That’s fine; I planned ahead.

I’ve spent all day editing this article and vaped relatively little. The nighttime cannabis is better than the BNM, and I only use what I need. That’s the difference between medicating and recreation. I’m not tense, I’ve focused on work all day, and it’s been productive. This could have been different if I still relied on the old ways.

I’ve had ample time to know the system, products and people. It’s not bad, really. Yes, it’s expensive – not at the entry level, but the medication itself. I understand there are more overheads than my friend has, and there’s tax, but that doesn’t make it cheaper during a cost-of-living crisis. To counter that completely, I have a stable supply when I need it. Fifty grams will do me the month. If not, I can book an appointment with my previous consultant. Having control removes anxiety. I know I’m unlikely to be arrested for carrying my medicine.

There are still unknowns. What happens if a medication I like runs out and there’s no suitable replacement? Is there a cap on prescriptions if 50 grams isn’t enough? As my first order demonstrated, not all product is equal – there’s less-than-great stuff on the market. And what if the system goes down?

Only time will tell. For now, I’m okay with it. This third order will decide which way the quality scales swing.

Final thoughts

Looking back at that sleep clinic in 1994, watching The Snowman at 2am, I never imagined I’d one day legally order cannabis to my door. The system isn’t perfect – it’s expensive, occasionally inconsistent, and I still hate vaping – but it’s given me something invaluable: stability.

Integro has been solid. Their people are fantastic, and the system flows well. I feel visible and listened to. My clinician is wonderful. The website isn’t everything it could be, but it’s functional and accessible. I can choose meds, pay, and get them delivered. Straightforward. If I have issues, CB1 is my backup.

It’s not the system we wanted (I love you, Spain), but if this is as close as we get, let’s work with it, not against it. The process is long-winded, and that two-week gap between the first order and the second consultation hurt. But my quality of life has improved. That improvement has been maintained, and that’s worth the effort entirely.

I’ve learned that consistency is key, and I can attain that through the medical cannabis market. The juice is worth the squeeze. Medical cannabis is still finding its feet as an industry – it feels like it’s in the construction stage. I hope it evolves so it doesn’t remain a luxury, leading to reduced costs, consistent quality and wider availability. Imagine dedicated pharmacies you can attend in person. A freedom of medicine. But right now, progress comes in shorts and a red gilet, and I’m really glad it does.

I still hate vaping and would much rather skin up. So if you see me with a doobie…Mind your business.