CBD Oil Review - Does it really work?

 

A few years ago, my daughter recommended that I try CBD oil. At the time, I was skeptical and didn’t pursue it. I did some research, but this was about eight years ago, and the information I found was mixed. There didn’t seem to be any solid regulations, and companies offering CBD products were popping up and disappearing quickly. It didn’t seem like I could rely on a consistent product from the same brand. I’m a loyal customer who takes time to find quality products that work as promised, and consistency is very important to me.

Since being in the hospital, I was prescribed gabapentin for neuropathy. I’ve been experiencing pretty intense neuropathic symptoms, but the gabapentin wasn’t making any difference. When I spoke to the doctor about it, she suggested increasing the dose, but I felt that I had been on enough to know whether or not it was going to work. Since I wasn’t feeling any relief, I asked to be taken off it.

I have two different pain medications that I can take if things get really bad, so I decided to just manage my symptoms as best I could with those. Then, I came across an ad for CBD oil online. After doing more research, I decided to try a CBD isolate. The company had good reviews, and I felt comfortable ordering from them.

The first thing I noticed after taking it was that I actually felt rested when I woke up in the morning. Many times I’ve slept, but it never felt like true rest. That was the first change I experienced. While I liked that benefit, I was also hoping for more—maybe some pain relief or another noticeable effect. What stood out the most, though, was that I started to feel a little more like myself.

I’ve been in the hospital since May 2023, and it’s been nothing but work—learning how to walk again, wash myself, go to the bathroom, and get dressed. Every day is full of effort. But after about a week of taking the CBD isolate, I realized there were moments throughout the day when I wasn’t thinking about my condition or pain. I was just focused on my tasks, like completing my cognitive recovery games, writing, or making artwork. For the first time in a while, things felt normal. That was a blessing.

They say you need to take CBD for two weeks to a month before you start noticing real effects. After two weeks of the isolate, I was happy with the better sleep and lighter mood, but I felt like it wasn’t enough. It’s possible that a higher dose would have made a difference. However, there was another company I wanted to try, so I ordered their full-spectrum, USDA-certified organic whole flower CBD oil.

The company, Cornbread Hemp, stood out because of their transparency—they provide USDA lab reports right on their website, and they take the production of their product seriously. I was impressed by their commitment to quality. After trying the whole flower CBD oil, I found my sleep improved even more than with the isolate. After reading more reviews and seeing that someone mentioned it helped their neuropathy, I decided to order their CBDa oil for daytime use, along with another bottle of the whole flower CBD for nighttime.

At first, the only thing I noticed was the continued improvement in my sleep. But one night, I forgot to take my morning dose, and my feet felt like they were on fire. That’s when I realized I hadn’t felt that level of neuropathy pain since I started taking the bundle. Now, after about a week and a half of taking both the morning and evening doses, I’m starting to notice a difference in my pain levels. While it hasn’t provided significant pain relief, there’s a noticeable reduction in the pain I feel during restorative therapy when I walk with my walker. The lighter mood I felt with the isolate has also continued with the whole flower CBD.

I’m looking forward to seeing how things progress. Like other supplements and medications, CBD can take a few weeks to a month to show full results. Although I’ve been using CBD for about a month now, I’ve only been consistent with my current routine for about two weeks. I’m curious to see how things continue to improve, and I hope to experience some of the more significant benefits that others have reported.

TL;DR

After a month of trying two different CBD oils, I’ve noticed some reduction in neuropathy pain, a lighter mood, and better sleep. While the effects haven’t been dramatic, both companies advise consistent use for a month or more to get the best results. I plan to revisit this post after three months and again at six months.

My ears are broken! Wtf!?!

In addition to losing control of my hands and feet, I experienced a strange change in my hearing. On my way to the ambulance, I heard a loud pop, and suddenly, it felt as if someone had turned down the volume on life itself. The progression of symptoms went like this: first, I could no longer stand up; then my hearing became distorted; and finally, I lost the use of my hands. I didn’t even know what to think.

When I was in the emergency room, my hearing was erratic. Sometimes I could hear, and other times everything was muffled and unclear. By the time I was admitted to a regular room, I was exhausted. They moved me from the stretcher to the bed, and I gratefully fell asleep. When I woke up, I could barely hear anything.

I wasn’t completely deaf; I could hear sounds, but I couldn’t make out what they were. When I finally saw an ENT doctor, he confirmed that my hearing was seriously compromised—I was lacking clarity. He was the first person who really helped me understand and articulate what I was experiencing. People around me would make noise, and I’d respond, but I had no idea what that noise was. Throughout my hospitalization, some people doubted whether I could hear or thought I was playing some sort of game. It was incredibly frustrating because I desperately wanted to hear clearly. Until I saw the ENT doctor, I didn’t even have the vocabulary to explain what was happening.

I’ve since learned that the brain damage I suffered affected my feet first, then my hearing, and finally my hands. I have other random symptoms, but these are the big three. They tell me that as my brain heals, my hearing should return to normal. At first, I was skeptical, but now that I’ve been hospitalized for over a year, I can recognize some improvement.

As time has passed, I’ve regained a fair amount of my hearing. I got hearing aids, but they didn’t help my brain unscramble the sounds I was hearing. I could hear noises better, but I still couldn’t understand what those noises were, so I put the hearing aids aside. The audiologist told me that I had a choice, and she and her boss agreed with the ENT doctor: if I continued to recover in other areas, like with my hands and feet, I would likely regain my hearing as well.

It broke my heart not to be able to hear. I was trying to be a champion in physical therapy—putting one foot in front of the other, doing my hand exercises, trying to learn how to write again—and I’m still working through all of that. But I often sit in my wheelchair, thinking how beautiful it would be to listen to some of my favorite music, work on my plants, or do my stretches with music playing in the background. For me, music is life.

My hearing has gone through so many changes over the past year. At first, I couldn’t hear much at all, not even my own voice. My family and the staff had to use a whiteboard to communicate, and we had conversations that way. I got really good at reading lips, along with the little bit that I could hear. Then I started to hear music a little, but it’s really wacky the way I hear it now. It’s like something is missing from the songs. For guitar-heavy music, which is my favorite, I can’t hear the lead guitar—I can hear the rhythm section pretty well, though. There are certain singers whose voices I can’t hear at all; my hearing seems to cut out at a certain tone or pitch, whatever it’s called. The same goes for hearing people talk. Some folks have voices with a rich tone that I can hear clearly, but others with softer voices are harder for me to understand, even with my lip-reading skills.

Right now, my hearing has adjusted again, and now it sounds like everyone is talking too close to a microphone. A couple of months ago, people sounded like they were coming through an AM radio station. Now I need people to back away from the microphone and not talk so loudly, lol! Even listening to myself dictate this blog post is getting on my nerves because it sounds like I’m on a microphone to myself. It’s really wild.

Which brings me to thinking about brain damage and how the brain heals. The current theory is that I had some condition that caused brain damage, leading to the loss of use in my hands, legs, feet, and hearing. I still have muscle strength and can hear some things, but with my hands and feet, I lack sensation, and with my hearing, I lack clarity. I imagine that the signals in my brain are misfiring or not connecting properly yet. It’s very frustrating to be a year into this and not have healed further. It’s also sad to think that this might be it—the pinnacle of my healing. I’m trying to make the best of it, but it’s going to take me a while to accept that this might be all there is.

What happened?

I want to delve deeper into what happened and what led me to where I am today. It started in late 2022. I wasn’t feeling well, and I believe much of it was due to my nerves. At the time, I had been diagnosed with agoraphobia for over five years. In the summer of 2022, I was told I would have to move from the hotel suite I was living in because they were closing it to build a new one across the street. 

I knew I would be moving sometime in November, and as it got closer, my nerves really started to kick in. I couldn’t eat most of the week, and when I did, it wasn’t healthy. Even though the move was just across the street, it became a significant ordeal in my mind. I finished moving by the end of November, but by then, my nerves were completely frazzled, and my feet were in immense pain. I thought I had developed plantar fasciitis again, as the pain was unrelenting.

During my first full week in the new hotel, I rested, trying to feel better, but the pain only worsened. About a week and a half into December, I was admitted to the hospital. I could walk a bit, but it was extremely painful. I went into rehab for about a month and left on a walker. I had home healthcare services for a couple of months, which ended around mid-March. Despite some improvement, I still had pain and was using the walker. The most alarming issue was my inability to eat properly and the increasing difficulty in leaving my room.

Sometime in April, I lost my appetite entirely and started drinking only Gatorade and water. I tried to consume Ensure for calories, but I was constantly tired and spent most of my time in bed. My nerves were on edge, leading to frequent panic attacks—two or three major ones a day, accompanied by dry heaving. One day, the shaking, hyperventilating, and dry heaving stopped, and I began to vomit several times a day, sometimes painfully. I couldn’t keep anything down, not even water. I tried making Gatorade popsicles to suck on ice chips, but nothing stopped the vomiting.

I would sit on my Rollator in the bathroom and sometimes fall asleep because it was too difficult to get out of bed. I started falling a lot, even with the walker. I was exhausted and dehydrated. Around mid-May, I began experiencing severe vertigo, making it hard to see straight, walk, or do anything. I was falling more frequently and staying on the ground longer, but I could still get up.

Eventually, I fell and tried to get back up, but my midsection lost all strength. My arms and hands were still strong, so I kept trying to pull myself up on the Rollator, but I was so tired. I used my elbows to low crawl toward the end table, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and had a trash bag beside me to vomit into. I was prepared to die, and part of me wished I had. I was really disappointed when I woke up because it meant I needed to go to the hospital again, which was the last thing I wanted.

From that point forward, a whole awful chain of events unfolded. I knew there was wickedness in this world, but I never knew personally how far or deep that wickedness could go—with a smile on its face. The medical abuse I encountered, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. To be in such a vulnerable position where you cannot use your hands or feet, hallucinate, and have lost most of your hearing, and for a group of people to find joy in your situation, is terrifying.

As this blog goes on, I will talk about it in more depth. I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready to pick it all apart yet. I am in trauma therapy and have had many conversations with family members and staff about that time. Yet, I want to talk about it here so that maybe even if just one person comes across these words and feels understood, they know someone hears them and is praying for them. There were some nurses and nursing aides who gave me little love breadcrumbs to hold onto because they saw how confused and in pain I was. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do about it.

Looking back, sometimes I wonder what I could’ve done differently. Given that I had lost control of my bodily functions, there wasn’t anything else I could do. I could only focus on moving forward.

Back again.

It’s been a challenging year. Last May, I was admitted to the hospital after losing the use of my legs. For about a month before that, I had been severely ill with vertigo and nonstop vomiting. Despite my efforts to stay hydrated with Gatorade and Ensure, the vertigo worsened. In the days leading up to my hospitalization, I struggled to get to the bathroom or the refrigerator without falling. I could barely sleep because lying down made everything spin. Finally, I fell and couldn't get back up. Exhausted and dehydrated, I felt like giving up. My core strength was gone, and it was impossible to lift myself using my walker. I managed to pull myself to the end table, grabbed a pillow, and covered myself with a blanket before finally falling asleep.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I was still on the floor. I called maintenance, and they contacted 911. When the ambulance arrived, I was embarrassed. I had vomited everything I had tried to drink and had soiled myself. Management helped me pack a small hospital bag and waited with me until the ambulance came. Despite my embarrassment, I had no choice but to let them put me on the stretcher. During the elevator ride, I heard a loud popping sound, and everything seemed muted. I couldn't understand what people were saying or hear myself clearly. I wasn't completely deaf, but I couldn't make out any sounds.

In the emergency room, I underwent numerous tests: MRIs, CAT scans, ultrasounds, bloodwork, and urinalysis. Despite all this, they couldn't find anything except severe dehydration and my inability to move my legs. I was eventually moved to a room, and with IV fluids and anti-nausea medication, I gratefully fell asleep. That was May 18th, 2023. The next time I was fully conscious was at the end of July 2023. Between May and July, I had been in a delirium and lost the use of my hands and arms up to my elbows. My hearing deteriorated further, and I couldn't do anything for myself.

Despite my severe neurological issues, I wasn't able to see a neurologist until July 2024. I've spent time in three different hospitals and have been in a long-term care facility at the VA for a year. Throughout this time, I received no diagnosis. No one could explain why I lost the use of my hands and feet, why my hearing was impaired, or why I had gone into delirium. Despite seeing various doctors, it was unclear that I was dealing with a neurological issue.

At the VA Medical Center, I started physical therapy. Having served in the United States Army, I've done extensive physical training, but learning to walk and use my hands again has been the most challenging experience of my life. I am in constant pain, and the neuropathy is strange, leaving me with little to no sensation in my hands and feet. Physical therapy has helped me learn to sit up, stand using a walker, and transition to my wheelchair. I work on standing longer and walking further. For my hands, I do grip exercises, use resistance bands, and practice handwriting. It's been a long road, and I still have a long way to go.

Last month, I finally saw a neurologist who diagnosed me with sensory motor neuropathy and scheduled a muscle response test. Although I'm not looking forward to the painful test, I am eager to see the results. When I asked my physical therapist about my recovery timeline, he said it's hard to predict—I could make a full recovery, or this might be the best it gets. However, the neurologist's preliminary exam gave me hope that I could make a full recovery, even if I still have some limitations.

So here I am, back at the blog after another hospitalization. I'm not sure how much I'll post, as life had become routine after my last hospitalization. But now, with a recovery process that isn't linear, I have more milestones to document. Writing in this blog helps me recover cognitive abilities and track my progress, setbacks, and plateaus. I'm still awaiting a definitive diagnosis, but the neurologist suspects a demyelinating disease like Guillain-Barré syndrome. After the EMG, we should have a clearer understanding. Until then, I'll keep pushing forward.