Topic: Medical marijuana

NOTE: Posts within this topic are shown in chronological order, the oldest first.

“A falling stock price isn’t trouble, trouble is when your kids take dope.” ~Ken Olsen

The title of this post is one of my all time favorite quotes. It is from the co-founder of Digital Equipment Company, DEC.

Concerned about my upcoming quality of life, I decided to see if I can get medical marijuana. It is legal in my state, and I am sure it will be helpful. I believe the last time I got stoned was the late 80’s …

The first step is to get a doctor’s note. Well, sort of. There are certain doctors who can “certify” you for medical marijuana. They typically charge $200 for a visit and you do not need to bring any medical records; I brought my colonoscopy results anyway.

It’s a small office a short walk from my house. I talk to the young guy at the front desk and he checks me in. He tells me that, yes, some people get rejected but that is either because they have a heart issue or come across as young stoners. He looked at me and said I won’t have a problem.

The doctor was running late and we were bumping up against another appointment I had. Finally the doctor comes to the small waiting area and calls me in. She is a dead-ringer for Zelda Rubinstein, aka Tangina from Poltergeist …

Except the doctor had a strong Eastern European accent. She asked why I wanted medical marijuana.

I have peripheral neuropathy and I understand it can help. Additionally I have been diagnosed with stage 3 colorectal cancer and think it will be helpful with nausea from chemo.

I hand her the test results. She looks at it, thinks a moment, turns to me and asks:

What is the survival rate?

100%

Yes, she really asked me that. And yes, that is what I said.

She then started a lesson in marijuana 101.

Marijuana has been around for thousands of years …

I cut her short and explained that my severely disabled step daughter uses medical marijuana for seizure control,  that I have done extensive research on the topic, and am running late for another appointment. And then I asked …

May I ask you where you are from?

From what used to be called Yugoslavia.

My grandmother was from Banja Luka.

Me too! Let’s get you out of here.

She gave me the certification, I gave her $200.

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“Federal and state laws (should) be changed to no longer make it a crime to possess marijuana for private use.” ~Richard M. Nixon

Thoughts on being halfway done with chemo-radiation (14 down, 14 to go), medical marijuana, and assorted crap.

  • Marijuana absolutely helps relieve nausea.
  • Sublingual medical marijuana tastes like licking the undercarriage of a lawn mower.
  • Halfway does not make me feel any better, mentally at least.
  • I have one surgeon, two hematologist/oncologists, two radiologists, an oncologist nurse practitioner, an oncologist nurse, a radiology nurse, and a couple of radiology techs. Only one is condescending and arrogant to the point that I will not even ask a question, I find someone else if I can, and I ignore their unsolicited advice since it at times contradicts others’. Ugh.
  • Everyone I know has been extremely appropriate in their response to my situation. A couple of people I don’t know have not been. While talking to a friend on the street today, a total stranger jumped into the conversation with stories of her relatives, etc. and cancer. I was hoping she would ask the name of my chemo …
  • There are hints that the tumor may be shrinking, let’s just say that some of what I leave in the bathroom is returning to a more typical form. As I said to my porn buddy about something else, that’s good shit.
  • The medical marijuana I am using does not have enough THC to get me high. I should try another kind, dude.
  • Fritos. I can’t forget the Fritos.

And yes, my nuts still hurt. Thanks for asking.

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