On November 12, 2010 I was selecting the "No" vote in the curtained, tiny room of my voting booth. The question I was answering was about pot. Dirty, stinky, gateway pot. I envisioned hooligans and gutter rats would be oh-so-tickled having had taken advantage of the recent clever marketing of the new face of "Medical Marijuana"--sure. Hell, for all I knew, the Cartels were subsidizing this influx of legislation in the world of pot. What I did not know for sure at that time was that I had a Lyme Disease infection that would soon consume my life.
One year ago--nearly to the day--I had relegated myself to the fact that I was dying and decided to end the four year chase for healing from Lyme and associated infections. We were basically bankrupt from the countless treatments and doctors and highly regarded medical facilities. My three-year-old deserved to have what little time I had left spent with her on my makeshift bed (the recliner which I rarely was able to get out of) not in the car or the doctor's office or the hotel room to or from treatment. My husband, Grant, and I needed to make arrangements and to come to grips with the last days or months he would be a caretaker of his sick wife. I had come back from the final goose chase for healing with an Arizona Medical Marijuana card to die comfortably with my family.
While in treatment, it was suggested that I use Medical Cannabis to ease the disease and death process. Grant took on the role of managing my medical cannabis consumption, as he had been managing my care and all aspects of the family for quite some time. He helped me stay on track with finding, purchasing and treating with various strains. He was able to research and recommend which strains might control my seizures, settle my stomach, reverse the cachexia (wasting syndrome seen in failing AIDS and Cancer patients), address the severe sleep disturbances, among other symptoms. He got me on a treatment schedule and made sure I stuck to it. It is important to note that I was also following my at-home protocol with additional natural remedies as well.
By January I had moved my bed from the familiar recliner in the living room back to our bed and bedroom after three years of not being able to lay in a bed due to crippling pain. I was able to eat more than one Saltine in 36 hours. I was SLEEPING again! Sleeping for me meant healing. I also took a trip to visit my grandparents six hours away; an unimaginable trek just months earlier.
It is September of 2014 and I am presently winding down and treating with the first--and only--puffs of medical cannabis for the evening. I will be able to sleep tonight. In my own bed. I will not deal with night terrors or Restless Leg Syndrome or anxiety attacks now. I will not be up all night listening to the owls and coyotes, crying out of desperation and pain. I will not have drenching night sweats or chills. I won't need six or eight anti-nausea pills tomorrow (which I will vomit up anyway). Instead, I will go lay in bed and fall asleep, and tomorrow I will be able to eat and hold down my sustenance. I will be able to move and think and articulate (mostly). I will be able to spend a few hours at work. It will be a good night and a good day tomorrow.
Luckily for ailing residents of Arizona, my vote was outnumbered by "yes" votes and the voters approved Medical Marijuana for our state. I learned that there very well may be "clever marketing" involved in the cannabis dialogue, but it might not be from the platform I initially surmised. What is important now, however, is to be a voice for the medical cannabis platform and for people that may benefit and receive relief or treatment from this medicinal plant. I am certain medical cannabis played a large part in my miraculous recovery. It plays a role in my health and healing every day and has--at least in part--saved my life.