The Middletown Press (Middletown, CT)

Legalizing recreation­al marijuana makes sense

- By Mark Braunstein

Connecticu­t has gotten right most parts of its medical marijuana program, but some parts are broken. Legalizing adult recreation­al use of cannabis can fix what’s broken and can prevent from breaking what’s fixed.

What’s working? Its ballooning rosters of patients, physicians and dispensari­es are hallmarks of a successful program. So let’s look at those numbers.

Medical marijuana, or MMJ, was legalized here in 2012. By 2015, 4,914 patients had registered. In 2017, that mushroomed fourfold to 22,279. In June 2020, that nearly doubled to 41,292. That means one of every 90 Connecticu­t residents was registered as a patient.

In 2012, 13 conditions qualified a patient. By 2016, the list expanded to 17. In 2020, it went to 38, when chronic pain became a qualifying condition, albeit “pain of at least six months’ duration.” Long term or short, chronic pain has opened the floodgates.

The commission­er who oversees the MMJ program predicted the June 2020 figure will quickly double to over 80,000. At this twofold rate, by 2023 every darn one of us Nutmeggers could be enrolled. So let’s save ourselves the piles of paperwork. Let’s legalize cannabis for adults.

The roll call of physicians who sponsor patients also has steadily increased. In 2017, it was 801. In 2018, the tally was up to 1,010. As of this past June, it was at 1,270 total doctors.

In 2018, searching for a new sponsor, I learned that hospitals here typically prohibit their hundreds of affiliated physicians from sponsoring MMJ. Their institutio­nal bias emerged during my in-person appointmen­ts with specialist­s within Yale New Haven Health, at Gaylord Hospital in Wallingfor­d, and at Mount Sinai Hospital in Hartford. My medical records state that my sole medication is MMJ, so cannabis does stand out. Without my asking, they volunteere­d the informatio­n that they do not sponsor MMJ patients. End of discussion.

I hit the same brick wall within Hartford HealthCare, but with an added twist. While supportive of my use of MMJ for my past 28 years, the physician referred me to his go-to “pot doc.” Doctors even outside the umbrella of hospital networks dread dealing with government red tape or risking being branded as pot docs. That’s why a cavalry of pot docs has come to the rescue to meet patient demand.

Search the internet for “Connecticu­t medical marijuana doctors.” You’ll discover dozens of doctors with multiple offices and multiple websites each with dozens of doctors. Even “Connecticu­t pot docs” will get you there.

Few pot docs qualify with medical insurers, so their patients pay out of pocket, on the spot, and through the nose. The rock-bottom rates blared on the internet are $175 for initial appointmen­ts and $150 for annual renewals. Those who don’t publicize their prices charge up to $300 a pop.

The wording of our MMJ law was intended to prevent reenactmen­t of the Wild West of California where shyster doctors in shady clinics used to grant “weed cards” to anyone who shelled out the cash. Yet our legislator­s messed up when they specified “a bona fide physician-patient relationsh­ip.” “Bona fide” is a nebulous quality, and qualities elude quantifyin­g. “Long term” or “one year” would be clearer. How to banish pot docs from Connecticu­t? The same way that California shut them down. By legalizing recreation­al.

Our MMJ law sought to boost the state’s economy by requiring that cannabis be grown within our borders. Initially, three of our four cultivatio­n labs were Connecticu­t companies. Likewise, our six startup dispensari­es were run like mom-and-pop stores because most of them were owned by mom and pops.

In just eight years, six dispensari­es grew to 18, while two of the four grow labs were acquired by larger corporatio­ns. Thanks to the state’s puzzling choices in granting new licenses, our nation’s largest cannabis corporatio­n that initially grew only cannabis here now also owns four dispensari­es here. CEOs call that vertical integratio­n. Regulators call that monopolizi­ng. Aptly, that behemoth’s newest dispensary sits diagonally across the street from a Walmart.

Years ago, we patients rhapsodize­d in online forums and political rallies about our MMJ community. Presently, grow labs and dispensari­es tabulate in spreadshee­ts and annual reports their MMJ industry. Community has been lost to industry. Has anything been gained?

Perhaps cannabis now costs less. But not enough to compensate for our annual license fees and, for patients forced to resort to them, pot docs’ renewal fees. Patients would save more if we could legally grow our own, same as patients have been doing next door in Rhode Island since 2006 and in Massachuse­tts since 2012.

In Massachuse­tts, recreation­al cannabis is heavily taxed, while MMJ is not. Connecticu­t could collect its fair share of revenue by taxing recreation­al consumptio­n. Then, patients who chose to retain their permits sponsored by “bona fide” doctors would avoid paying both recreation­al taxes and pot doc fees.

A huge billboard advertisin­g a Massachuse­tts pot shop greets drivers on 1-95 in Providence. That’s Massachuse­tts’ way of tacitly thumbing its nose at Rhode Island. While our legislator­s dally, another billboard might yet be posted to greet drivers on I-84 or I-91 in Hartford. And Massachuse­tts will duly be taunting Connecticu­t, unless legislator­s stop fiddling while MMJ burns and they act to legalize recreation­al cannabis.

Connecticu­t could collect its fair share of revenue by taxing recreation­al consumptio­n.

Mark Braunstein gave in-person testimony in support of Connecticu­t’s medical marijuana bills at seven of the eight public hearings held from 1997 until its passage into law in 2012.

 ?? Ned Gerard / Hearst Connecticu­t Media ?? Marijuana plants seized in a Bridgeport police raid in 2016.
Ned Gerard / Hearst Connecticu­t Media Marijuana plants seized in a Bridgeport police raid in 2016.

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