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Choking back tears, Rhonda O'Donnell had to pause and regain her composure. "I'm a nurse," she said, unable to restrain her emotions. "I'm sorry," O'Donnell continued, as she tried to stop crying. "I really miss my work."
In October it will have been 10 years since O'Donnell was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a disease that slowly attacks the central nervous system and robs the body of muscle control.
Faced with excruciating pain, especially in her legs, O'Donnell has tried various pharmaceutical interventions, even chemotherapy. But the 41-year-old Norfolk Avenue resident has been busy researching a non-traditional form of treatment that she strongly advocates, traveling to the State House to testify on its medicinal value — marijuana.
She recalls the long journey that brought her to where she is now and explains why she's so passionate about getting support for two pieces of legislation under consideration in the General Assembly, House bill (H-7588). Introduced on February 5, the bill remains on hold before the House Finance Committee.
And Senate bill (S-2353), introduced on February 11, remains before the Senate Judiciary Committee.
"I can think way back to the symptoms," O'Donnell said, saying that her medical problems all started with blurred vision in one eye. It seemed to clear up within a day, so O'Donnell felt it never warranted a visit to the doctor.
Then, she began to experience growing fatigue. A nurse at Rhode Island Hospital at the time, O'Donnell kept bumping into things and had trouble reading, even when there was adequate light in the room.
"I used to have someone else read my thermometers," O'Donnell shared of the difficulty the symptoms created in routine patient care.
Eventually, O'Donnell sought professional help, only to learn the worst. When she was diagnosed, physicians told her there was no cure.
Determined to keep working, O'Donnell tried to keep up with the demanding pace of nursing. Then, not long after she received the devastating news and with her strength and health deteriorating, O'Donnell begrudgingly chose to leave her job at the hospital and has been on a medical disability ever since.
"It was heartbreaking," she said. "Your work provides you with a lot of your self-esteem."
Her kitchen at home is decorated with pictures and figurines of cows and bunny rabbits, O'Donnell's favorites. On a table, she points to a small plastic case that holds her daily medication regimen of 14 pills, each little section marked with a letter representing Sunday through Saturday. Nearby, a cane is propped up against a wall.
Wearing a pin that says, "Help Support the Medical Marijuana Act," O'Donnell uses a walker to support her weight as she slowly moves about the house. Growing increasingly weaker, O'Donnell has limited the time that she will travel inside her home without such aids after losing balance on occasion and falling.
What strength she has left is useful in permitting her to continue to drive to go shopping, but she has chosen stores that offer a motorized scooter for customers with handicaps. Yet, even with the energy she must expend to carry out even routine tasks, O'Donnell complains that her affliction robs her of the ability to complete them effectively.
Her head bowed, she wells up with tears once again, describing how she just barely makes it into her front door after picking up groceries, bringing in just the items that she knows need refrigeration. As her legs give out and her energy is depleted, O'Donnell said she must crawl along the floors on her hands and knees, pushing the food in front of her inch by inch until it reaches its destination.
A sealed packet O'Donnell holds up contains a syringe she uses to inject herself with the drug interferon every other day. She knows it won't make her better, but research indicates the medication will at least reduce the severity and frequency of the pain she must endure.
Like an electrical cord with a number of breaks in its insulated covering, O'Donnell explained that MS begins to affect the neurological impulses from the brain to various parts of the body. And like a short in electrical wiring, more and more often those chemical messages fail to get through and muscular function ceases.
Talking about the disease generates a flashback for O'Donnell, who spent time training for her medical career in a nursing home. One of her first contacts with a patient was a 40-year-old man with MS who couldn't feed himself and had become incontinent.
The occasion also reminded her of the death of her father in 1980 from cancer. Many years later, O'Donnell's brother revealed a family secret. Her father used marijuana to ease the nausea and relieve the lack of appetite caused by the effects of his terminal illness.
"I am progressively worsening," O'Donnell said of her condition, uncertain of how long she has before the effects of her disease become too much to bare. "I'm still sliding."
Right now, O'Donnell figures that she's just buying time by continuing the treatments that are available. In the meantime, she said that she's trying to remain upbeat.
"I have to look at the positives, as down as you get," she said, convinced that she would have been considerably worse off had she not agreed to let current therapy take its course.
"I have a great support system," O'Donnell said, including her husband of 20 years, Jack. The couple has raised two children, Thomas and Stephanie.
Along with her family, O'Donnell continues to rally support for the House and the Senate version of the bills that would allow physicians to decide if marijuana would prove beneficial in certain medical conditions, including her own. Patients would be given authority by the state to possess up to one ounce of cannabis, or allowed to grow no more than six plants.
The Rhode Island Medical Society and a statewide nurses association along with numerous doctors have endorsed the legislation. But its fate remains uncertain as the current legislative session nears a close.
O'Donnell refuses to surrender her cause, vowing that she will continue to push for the legalization of medicinal marijuana.
"All we're looking for is some compassion, not pity," O'Donnell said about people such as her living with the effects of multiple sclerosis and other debilitating conditions. I am the cup half full rather than half empty kind of person," she said.
Source: Warwick Beacon (RI)
Author: Mark Silberstein
Published: Thursday, June 17, 2004
Copyright: 2004 Warwick Beacon
Contact: info@warwickonline.com
Website: Warwick Beacon
In October it will have been 10 years since O'Donnell was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, a disease that slowly attacks the central nervous system and robs the body of muscle control.
Faced with excruciating pain, especially in her legs, O'Donnell has tried various pharmaceutical interventions, even chemotherapy. But the 41-year-old Norfolk Avenue resident has been busy researching a non-traditional form of treatment that she strongly advocates, traveling to the State House to testify on its medicinal value — marijuana.
She recalls the long journey that brought her to where she is now and explains why she's so passionate about getting support for two pieces of legislation under consideration in the General Assembly, House bill (H-7588). Introduced on February 5, the bill remains on hold before the House Finance Committee.
And Senate bill (S-2353), introduced on February 11, remains before the Senate Judiciary Committee.
"I can think way back to the symptoms," O'Donnell said, saying that her medical problems all started with blurred vision in one eye. It seemed to clear up within a day, so O'Donnell felt it never warranted a visit to the doctor.
Then, she began to experience growing fatigue. A nurse at Rhode Island Hospital at the time, O'Donnell kept bumping into things and had trouble reading, even when there was adequate light in the room.
"I used to have someone else read my thermometers," O'Donnell shared of the difficulty the symptoms created in routine patient care.
Eventually, O'Donnell sought professional help, only to learn the worst. When she was diagnosed, physicians told her there was no cure.
Determined to keep working, O'Donnell tried to keep up with the demanding pace of nursing. Then, not long after she received the devastating news and with her strength and health deteriorating, O'Donnell begrudgingly chose to leave her job at the hospital and has been on a medical disability ever since.
"It was heartbreaking," she said. "Your work provides you with a lot of your self-esteem."
Her kitchen at home is decorated with pictures and figurines of cows and bunny rabbits, O'Donnell's favorites. On a table, she points to a small plastic case that holds her daily medication regimen of 14 pills, each little section marked with a letter representing Sunday through Saturday. Nearby, a cane is propped up against a wall.
Wearing a pin that says, "Help Support the Medical Marijuana Act," O'Donnell uses a walker to support her weight as she slowly moves about the house. Growing increasingly weaker, O'Donnell has limited the time that she will travel inside her home without such aids after losing balance on occasion and falling.
What strength she has left is useful in permitting her to continue to drive to go shopping, but she has chosen stores that offer a motorized scooter for customers with handicaps. Yet, even with the energy she must expend to carry out even routine tasks, O'Donnell complains that her affliction robs her of the ability to complete them effectively.
Her head bowed, she wells up with tears once again, describing how she just barely makes it into her front door after picking up groceries, bringing in just the items that she knows need refrigeration. As her legs give out and her energy is depleted, O'Donnell said she must crawl along the floors on her hands and knees, pushing the food in front of her inch by inch until it reaches its destination.
A sealed packet O'Donnell holds up contains a syringe she uses to inject herself with the drug interferon every other day. She knows it won't make her better, but research indicates the medication will at least reduce the severity and frequency of the pain she must endure.
Like an electrical cord with a number of breaks in its insulated covering, O'Donnell explained that MS begins to affect the neurological impulses from the brain to various parts of the body. And like a short in electrical wiring, more and more often those chemical messages fail to get through and muscular function ceases.
Talking about the disease generates a flashback for O'Donnell, who spent time training for her medical career in a nursing home. One of her first contacts with a patient was a 40-year-old man with MS who couldn't feed himself and had become incontinent.
The occasion also reminded her of the death of her father in 1980 from cancer. Many years later, O'Donnell's brother revealed a family secret. Her father used marijuana to ease the nausea and relieve the lack of appetite caused by the effects of his terminal illness.
"I am progressively worsening," O'Donnell said of her condition, uncertain of how long she has before the effects of her disease become too much to bare. "I'm still sliding."
Right now, O'Donnell figures that she's just buying time by continuing the treatments that are available. In the meantime, she said that she's trying to remain upbeat.
"I have to look at the positives, as down as you get," she said, convinced that she would have been considerably worse off had she not agreed to let current therapy take its course.
"I have a great support system," O'Donnell said, including her husband of 20 years, Jack. The couple has raised two children, Thomas and Stephanie.
Along with her family, O'Donnell continues to rally support for the House and the Senate version of the bills that would allow physicians to decide if marijuana would prove beneficial in certain medical conditions, including her own. Patients would be given authority by the state to possess up to one ounce of cannabis, or allowed to grow no more than six plants.
The Rhode Island Medical Society and a statewide nurses association along with numerous doctors have endorsed the legislation. But its fate remains uncertain as the current legislative session nears a close.
O'Donnell refuses to surrender her cause, vowing that she will continue to push for the legalization of medicinal marijuana.
"All we're looking for is some compassion, not pity," O'Donnell said about people such as her living with the effects of multiple sclerosis and other debilitating conditions. I am the cup half full rather than half empty kind of person," she said.
Source: Warwick Beacon (RI)
Author: Mark Silberstein
Published: Thursday, June 17, 2004
Copyright: 2004 Warwick Beacon
Contact: info@warwickonline.com
Website: Warwick Beacon
