A day in the life of a patient

A day in the life of a patient

It begins innocently enough, a doctors appointment. Since it’s a new doctor in a new state, I feel the need to explain my MMJ use, and looking at surgery, ask that I not be tested. Luckily, my doctor is well educated and was impressed with my decision to forgo pills when possible. So it’s going pretty well now, but I have to find said medicine, since my local pharmacy doesn’t carry my preferred naturals. It’s not an easy search either; no one will openly speak of cannabis, so when in a new area finding new contacts, you don’t have a lot of choices in medicines.

 

A girlfriend and I went searching, with our golden ticket, a contact!!!Two senior women in convertible car, arms outstretched, side view Five minutes into the ride, we are already complaining of pain, adjusting pillows, and wishing for a Valium for the anxiety; Only 1 more hour… one way. We start discussing how silly this all is, to get our hands on a natural plant. Worth more than gold, I believe, but impossible to locate! There’s planning discussion going on, planning for the case where we get pulled over. We have a joint, since it’s such a long trip, but we can’t smoke it for fear of being seen, so we wait. The tension is thick and we are are angry at the hypocriscy . When we finally reach our destination, our contact isn’t home, we take the break to smoke our joint, sit on the porch, drink in the southern charm dripping like the wisteria from the trees around us. Even a little hummingbird visited, enchanted by our skunky perfume. Side note: we happened to run into a young woman we knew. It’s that small a world! Now, you have to understand, to reach the oasis you have to climb more than 20 old rickety metal steps. If you happen to be handicapped, sorry, this isn’t your place. Our “dispensaries” are not up to any code, as usually being homes, most can’t be easily modified to suit clients. It’s common sense that the ones who need this the most are going to also have the most difficulty accessing it. But I digress. Our contact did not have what we were looking for this time. Not wasted, since now we all know each other and expectations have been established, but not the outcome I had hoped for. Now to make the trip home, which due to the hour will be even longer and spent in traffic, but there’s a hot tub waiting!

About 15 minutes into this drive, we received a frantic text from a fellow patient here in Georgia who was in the process of being raided. Talk about increasing the stress levels! We have to begin locating contacts who can offer any hope or help, spreading the word to other local activists, and continue to offer any support or advice we can in this dire situation. We did realize that one overlooked option we have as activists is that we can contact the judges responsible for allowing this to continue and end the warrants on cannabis patients. They are the only ones who can quickly end this war on people. They wield the sword, in it’s most powerful form, a pen, and could refuse to sign cannabis warrants. These judges have the authority to JUST SAY NO.

(Do you have a story to tell, testimony to give, a poem to share?  Please send all submissions to us at contactus@peachtreenorml.org)