[Medical Marijuana]

Janet Tillandre

Cancer Survivor

Janet Tillandre was devastated by the news: doctors told her she was dying of cancer and had only 6 months to live. To make matters worse, the doctors began cutting her body in a series of life-and-death surgeries, and they also gave her powerful chemotherapy drugs that made those the longest and most miserable 6 months of her life. She was in horrible agony, both sick and tired, spending most of her days moaning in bed and retching in the bathroom. Janet vomited uncontrollably, every day she had to swallow the medicinal poisons meant to kill her cancer. Her vitality waned quickly. She could not eat. She could not sleep. Marijuana turned out to be her only salvation. Without marijuana to quell the terrible side-effects of the chemotherapy, she would surely have perished. Without marijuana to relieve the pain of repeated surgeries, she would have had to rely on the various pain pills her doctor prescribed, even though they were relatively ineffective. It is fortunate Janet was in a state where doctors are lawfully allowed to recommend marijuana for terminal and severely ill patients.

Medical marijuana made Janet’s battle for life bearable, and it helped her keep down food when nothing else was working. Marijuana helped her cope with the greatest challenge of her life. Janet was told she had only six months to live. That was about six years ago. Janet says her survival is a miracle, and the miracle is marijuana.


Brandon Whisenant

Cancer survivor

Early in the year of 2001, 22 year-old Brandon Whisenant was about to graduate from culinary arts school in Seattle. He had loved food preparation and fine cooking, but his appetite faded for some unknown reason. He became unable to eat even a bite of his favorite foods. Brandon realized there was something very wrong. Soon he was unable to eat anything, and his energy level dwindled. A week later his skin-tone was grey, his cheeks were sunken, and his lymph glands were very swollen. He lay in bed unable to move for several days. After long hours of overwhelming fatigue, he finally pushed himself to the hospital for an examination. The physician recognized immediately that Brandon was seriously ill and he ordered a series of tests. Brandon was sent home to await the results, but he collapsed at a family reunion the following day. His grandmother, a registered nurse with 40 years experience, demanded that he be admitted to another hospital right away.

A spinal tap was taken, involving a long needle to draw out some of the neural fluid. Brandon found the bone marrow biopsy even more painful: a thick needle was repeatedly jammed against the crest of his hip bone until it was deeply punctured. The pain and discomfort of blood tests, prostrate check-ups and others medical examinations paled in comparison. His entire hip was very sore for several days. Two days later, the hospital called and told Brandon to come in and plan to stay for a while. Brandon was filled with dread and despair checking into the hospital while his friends accepted his culinary diploma at the graduation ceremony.

Brandon was diagnosed with Acute Lymphomatic Leukemia (ALL), a rapidly progressing version of this frequently fatal blood-borne cancer. ALL is caused by a genetic injury to a single cell in the bone marrow, leading to exaggerated growth of unhealthy cells that block the production of normal blood cells. Brandon would certainly have perished without immediate rounds of chemotherapy. Unfortunately, the prescribed medical treatment needed to halt the progression of Brandon’s cancer was nearly as dangerous as the illness itself.

An aggressive treatment known as induction therapy was initiated, which included a “port” inserted into Brandon’s chest so the chemotherapy drugs could be administered directly into his arteries. Brandon was released after thirty days of treatment. He felt a little better for a day or two, but was soon stricken with terrible side-effects, such as severe joint pain, nausea, vomiting, and exhaustion. Brandon still had trouble eating—even the smell of food made him gag, and his once-muscular physique was noticeably emaciated, as if he were a poster-child for some starvation relief program. Brandon tried several drugs intended to help increase his appetite, even Marinol, the synthetic THC-analogue, but all of those anti-emetic drugs turned out to be relatively ineffective. One day, Brandon’s grandfather discovered a green brochure while sitting next to him in the doctor’s waiting room. The pamphlet described the use of medical marijuana for people suffering from severe “wasting syndrome”. Grandpa thought it was worth a try.

Brandon began eating marijuana prepared in his food. It made him hungrier, and reduced his nausea. Brandon also felt better psychologically. He said, “It lifted my spirits and made me feel that I could overcome the sickness.” Brandon’s doctor approved. He wrote the legal recommendation, and Brandon began smoking marijuana instead of eating it because it was easier to control the dosage. Brandon felt much healthier and more normal without getting too “stoned” like he did after taking the Marinol pills.

A terrible fever erupted on September 11th, 2001. Three months after beginning chemotherapy, Brandon’s temperature spiked to 104. He was rushed to a hospital where doctors found dangerously low cell levels in his blood stream, but they were unable to correct the problem. Brandon fell into a coma for nearly a month. When he finally awoke, he was unable to walk or move normally. Brandon faced a steep uphill battle for survival with many arduous challenges.

Brandon was released from the hospital, but had to return for additional treatments at least twice per week. A hole was drilled in Brandon’s head, and another port was inserted. A powerful cancer drug, Methotrexate, was injected into the port and from there flowed directly into his sinuses. Every treatment was immediately followed by terrible dizziness and violent vomiting. Brandon soon began smoking medical marijuana in the car before the Methotrexate treatments, which was the only method that made those dreadful experiences tolerable.

Torturous rounds of chemotherapy treatments are standard procedures used to combat a cancer before it kills the patient. In many cases as severe as Brandon’s there is very little hope of survival. But Brandon was able to undergo the poisonous “cure” and managed to maintain an adequate amount of body mass because smoking marijuana provided relief at times when he was so sick he was completely unable to swallow even a small pill. Methotrexate was a noxious drug that overwhelmed Brandon with horrible gut-wrenching spasms, but those side-effects were actually minor compared to the effects of the next round of treatment.

Asparaginase did not appear to cause an allergic reaction when it was tested on Brandon, and there were no major problems detected during its administration, but about two weeks after the regimen began, Brandon became violently ill with uncontrollable vomiting spasms that would not stop. Brandon was once again rushed to the hospital. A nurse discovered his heart rate was skyrocketing—she believed he would have suffered a fatal heart attack within minutes. The patient was then rushed to the cardiac floor where two different drugs were used. The first drug slowed his heart rate to a slow, heavy thump, but it quickly reverted to a dangerous staccato. The doctor said, “There’s only one way to save you—we’re going to stop your heart, then we’ll start it right up again”. The doctor nodded reassuringly, but his facial expression was very tense. A second drug was administered, and everything went dark. Brandon fell into a second coma, this time for three long months.

His first waking memory was of a doctor in his room in the Intensive Care Unit. The doctor asked Brandon if he wanted to live, and if he did, he was going to have to work very hard. He has only hazy memories of holding rooms and countless surgeries—recuperating with bloody bandages holding his belly in place. Brandon eventually learned that the Asparaginase had caused an allergic reaction causing Acute Pancreatitis. The doctors learned this through several exploratory surgeries, culminating in a partial pancreatectomy.

Upon awakening from the drug-induced haze, Brandon became extremely upset with his situation. After some trials, such as learning to swallow again, Brandon checked himself out of the hospital, though he agreed to return for treatment once a week. Brandon knew he could not endure further chemotherapy without marijuana to bolster his ability to eat. Every week, Brandon smoked marijuana in the parking lot before treatment, which is the only reason why he was able to continue with further Methotrexate therapy. Medical marijuana helped to save Brandon’s life. Another six months of combination chemotherapy with all of its terrible side-effects was only made possible by the constant application of cannabis to offset the pain and uncontrollable wretching.

About one month after the last round of chemotherapy treatments, Brandon made a huge error in judgment. He was lawfully stopped by a county sheriff while driving his car with a suspended license. A highway patrolman also pulled up, and the two officers shared a laugh or two at Brandon’s expense. Brandon gave the officers permission to search his vehicle, informing the policemen that he was a legally qualified medical marijuana patient. The county officer was puzzled by the claim and he hesitated a moment, but the state officer immediately delivered a belligerent lie, saying, “There’s no such thing as medical marijuana. There was a law passed last November that removed the state medical marijuana law. That shit’s a joke.” The county officer acquiesced and opened Brandon’s medicine bottle that was clearly labeled “cannabis”. As if acting out a silly comedy skit, the two officers sniffed the bottle, looked up, and laughed in unison, crooning, “Oh, yeah!”

They let him go with infraction tickets for driving with a suspended license and for possession of marijuana, even though there was no marijuana found. Crazy as it sounds, the medical cannabis bottles held as evidence against Brandon were completely empty—the police said they smelled like marijuana, and the bottles are labeled “cannabis” and that was all the evidence needed to charge the young man with possession of the controlled substance.

Brandon consulted an attorney who spoke with the county prosecutor’s office. The defense attorney was told that Brandon would have to plead guilty of the suspended license charge, and then the marijuana charge would be dropped. The following Monday, Brandon arrived at the courthouse and tried to comply with the attorney’s instruction, but the judge refused to listen. Brandon, a severely ill cancer survivor who had nearly died several times in the prior year, was thrown in jail with dangerous criminals held in close quarters. The infectious diseases alone could have killed Brandon in his weakened state. Fortunately for Brandon, he is a member of the Lifevine medical marijuana collective, and other members quickly bailed him out and hired an expert attorney. After his terrible ordeal surviving Acute Lymphomatic Leukemia, and in surviving the chemotherapy drugs used by his doctors, Brandon’s spirit is strong, and he will not be destroyed by overzealous and ill-informed legal authorities. After all the difficult challenges he has already faced, Brandon’s legal right to use medical marijuana will not be infringed.

A list of Brandon's medications:

Asparaginase, Cytarabine, Daunorubicin - with prolonged use also can cause severe heart damage, Methotrexate - which can also cause cancerous lymphomas, tumor lysis syndrome (electrolyte imbalances), severe skin reactions, infections such as pneumonia, bone and soft tissue damage, and severe damage to your liver, kidneys, lungs, and gastrointestinal tract (some of which can be fatal), Teniposide, and Vincristine - when administered into a vein may leak into surrounding tissues.

Side effects from each ot these medicaitons are common and include:

nausea and vomiting which may last up to 24 or 48 hours after treatment, confusion, depression, jaw pain, headache, or other aches, restlessness or agitation, loss of appetite, stomach pain and cramps, constipation, diarrhea, difficulty swallowing, thinned or brittle hair, skin irritation (sunburn-like) or rash on areas previously exposed to radiation treatments, blistering skin or acne, decrease in the number of blood cells in bone marrow, and darkening of fingernails or toenails.

Brandon's court case has been continued until May 20th, 2005


Patricia Warren

Multiple Sclerosis Patient

Multiple sclerosis is a degenerative nerve disease. The body’s movements are controlled by chemical signals sent from the brain through the spine to the muscles and organs. Nerve signals travel through a material called Myelin. In multiple sclerosis, the Myelin becomes covered with plaque that blocks the nerve signals. MS patients often suffer uncontrollable tremors and spasms throughout their body. The plaque hardens over time, obstructing the nerve signals entirely, causing a complete shut down of all of the body’s systems. After years of physical atrophy, multiple sclerosis eventually causes catatonia and death. There are no known treatments for reversing progression of the disease. There are no known causes of MS, but there is a perplexing indication of some as yet unknown environmental factor. It seems that no person born and raised for the first eight years of life in tropical latitudes suffers from MS, and Multiple Sclerosis is increasingly prevalent in Northern latitudes. MS is more common in Washington State than in California, for example.

Patty Warren suffered from symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis for 18 years before she received an accurate diagnosis. For many years she became ill for about a month at a time about every three months. When Patty had a Multiple Sclerosis attack she became so weak she could not sit up in bed. She also had no appetite and had trouble keeping food down. Walking was difficult for Patty and she fell down a lot. Her body was in constant throbbing pain when she had an attack. She also bruised extremely easily, and one time her vision even doubled, a symptom reported by other MS patients. Her symptoms were treated with standard pharmaceutical medications; painkillers, and antidepressants.

Doctors told Patty she suffered from some unknown viral infection, though several doctors who concluded it was all in her head. One even said she had “female” problems, or mental problems stemming from being a woman with no job or hobbies. Many doctors were baffled and became skeptical of her claims. Some thought she was just trying to get attention and pain killers. She was considered a “doctor shopper”, a difficult patient, and a hypochondriac. Poor Patty was very ill, and unable to convince her doctors that her claims were real. She felt lost and alone in her misery.

Then one day Patty had what is called an exerbation attack. She was walking through the house and suddenly lost control of her bowels. That had never happened to her before. She called her doctor and was told to get to an emergency room immediately. Doctors at the hospital took a very painful spinal tap and then sent her home with a splitting headache that lasted for several days. The spinal tap was inconclusive and Patty underwent more testing. Then a CAT scan of her brain revealed plaques that were blocking her brain signals. Patty’s symptoms were suddenly explained. By looking back on her medical history and comparing the times she was sick with the amount of plaques on her brain, physicians determined she had lived with Multiple Sclerosis for about 18 years.

Patty has spent most of her adult life in a haze of overmedication. Painkillers, antispasmodics, and antidepressants contorted her thoughts and feelings. Her family became increasingly worried about her negative mental attitudes. She was always cranky, lethargic, depressed and often felt suicidal. Patty’s sister underwent back surgery, and had found that medical marijuana relieved her back pain without promoting depression, lethargy, and other unwanted side-effects. Patty’s dark cloud of depression and immobility vanished immediately when she first tried medical marijuana. She felt much lighter and more lively. She was able to move her body more freely than she had for years. Patty giggled with glee, her heart and mind dancing with vitality.

Marijuana took away Patty’s pain, but it did not make her groggy and lifeless like the drugs given by her doctors. Her neurologist noticed the difference right away. He asked her what she had done to make herself feel better. He nodded in agreement when she told him about the medical marijuana. The doctor said he knew that it was effective for reducing spasticity, the painful muscle contortions typical of Multiple Sclerosis sufferers. That neurologist treated over 1400 patients at that time, so he had heard many profound stories from patients who had found marijuana preferable to the pharmaceutical medications he prescribed. Patty left his office beaming with a legal recommendation to use marijuana as medicine.

One of the drugs Patty took made her lose her ability to see color; another drug ruined her libido; still another caused her hair to fall out. All of them reduced her mental awareness and negatively affected her emotional state. The times that Patty had been taken off pharmaceutical painkillers, she has experienced horrible withdrawal symptoms, including severe nausea, vomiting, and intense gastric disturbances. She has never had any withdrawal symptoms or other negative side-effects from her use of medical marijuana. The only problem she has when she runs out of marijuana is that the pain and disability of her MS symptoms are much worse.

Patty often has trouble swallowing and eating—sometimes it is impossible to keep food down. She also has deep tremors that interfere with her voice and breathing. Her muscles contract painfully and uncontrolably. Doctors recommend medical marijuana because it calms her contorted muscles so she doesn’t have to use quite as many of the pharmaceutical muscle relaxers and painkillers. Marijuana also helps Patty with digesting food—it helps her to keep her food down, and she also does not gag as much as when she was taking so many of the pharmaceutical drugs. She was able to get off from a serious oxycontin medication (synthetic morphine) because her doctors recommended increasing her daily doses of marijuana.

When Patty went on a plane trip to California she did not hide the fact that she was a medical marijuana patient. She put her purse and baggage on the conveyor check point station, in her purse contained her wallet which contained her medical marijuana cigarettes. She knew they would find it so she told them about her medical recommendation. The airport security came up and asked her for her documentation. They were very nice. They called her doctor. They verified it was all proper and then gave her back her joints. When she was flying back home from CA the she received the same service, respect, and cordiality. One security officer even asked her more detail on how mmj worked, explaining that his mother was sick and on a lot of pain killers. He asked her if she thought it would help his mother, she replied she was not a doctor but she definitely thought it would help.

When her two daughters went through the D.A.R.E. program in school Patty was relieved to find that they told them that it was illegal but there was a small group of people who used it legally for medical conditions, usually fatal or chronic diseases. Her children know she uses medical marijuana, but they are never around her when she smokes.

Medical marijuana makes Patty’s difficult life bearable when nothing else works. Her doctors are frustrated by the irreversible progression of this terrible disease. But they have seen the small miracles in Patty’s case, and so they know they are right to recommend medical marijuana, regardless of federal laws that ignore the facts of modern medical science.


Marcos Chavez

Intractable pain, severe depression

Marcos Chavez felt on top of the world at the spry age of 20. He had a new apartment in the city and a new job as an assistant nurse in a large hospital. An accomplished costume designer and tailor, Marcos spent his nights in dance classes and dreamed of a career on stage.

On a rainy December 13th, Marcos was headed home after attending a cousin’s wedding. At 10:53 a.m. he entered a crosswalk and his whole life changed. A domestic argument inside a Mercury Marquis distracted the driver at just the wrong moment. The front left bumper of the Marquis caught Marcos’ left shin at 35 miles per hour, causing his lower leg bones, the tibia and fibula, to pop out and rip right through his jeans. His lower body was vaulted up into the air as his upper body rolled off the side of the car, and all his weight came crashing down on the left side of his head, causing multiple lacerations, plus a fracture and subluxation of cervical vertebrae # 3 and 4. In layman’s terms, his spine was twisted and his neck was broken.

Marcos landed hard on the cold, wet pavement. The Marquis driver stopped and ran in a panic for an ambulance. An elderly Mexican woman was praying over the bloody body in the rain. His pulse marked the moments, staining the gritty white crosswalk with pools of deep red. When the emergency medical team arrived, they were surprised to find Marcos slightly aware of his condition. He mumbled “No . . . no . . .” when they tried to cut the new leather shoes from his mangled leg. When he arrived at the emergency room, the nurses were also shocked by his immediate response. “Will I ever dance again?” he feebly asked. The nurses looked at each other, not sure quite what to say.

Thus began Marcos’s life of pain.

After numerous x-rays and CAT scans, the neurosurgeon in charge informed his tearful parents that it was in fact a miracle Marcos had survived. A halo was installed with a 25 pound weight to try and pull his crushed vertebrae apart. Marcos was aware when the doctor shaved his head and began sewing the loose pieces of his scalp back together. He was aware when the halo was screwed into the sides of his head. He was aware as the weight was gently lowered and the pulling began. It would not subside for another 3 days.

He was immobilized in a large, circular bed that allowed him to be rotated from back to belly without moving his body position. He was kept under heavy sedation. All this time, he wandered lost in his head, his thinking blurred from narcotics and post-head-trauma disorder.

It was determined the halo device was not working, and surgery was performed. The vertebrae were pried apart, and the pieces glued back together with what the neurosurgeon called “super glue”. Holes were drilled into the foraminae and wires were wrapped through the holes to stabilize them. The leg was repaired with a nail pounded through the center of the tibia and screwed into place.

Marcos’s life would never be the same. Days after being released from the hospital, his parents gave him the bad news. The driver who hit him was not insured, was driving his girlfriend’s car that also was not insured, had no job, had no money, and was driving on a suspended license. Although that reckless driver received no penalty, Marcos had been cited with a ticket for entering too suddenly into the crosswalk. The attorney his parents spoke to advised them to “pay the ticket so it won’t go on his record.”

7 months and 3 more surgeries later, Marcos took his first agonizing steps. Despite being heavily drugged with narcotics, his leg, back, neck and head were continuously painful. He found cold weather aggravated his injuries. He plunged into a deep depression

Determined to get back onto his feet, Marcos moved back to the city, but he soon found himself experimenting with drugs to alleviate his pain and overwhelming depression. He struggled with narcotic use for another two and a half years. Marcos was raised to believe that marijuana is evil. He had never used it before. But an old friend became concerned with Marcos’s continued use of narcotics, and he offered an alternative to hard drugs. After a lot of talk, and a little fretting, they shared a marijuana joint while sitting on a balcony overlooking the city at sunset. Without warning, Marcos felt WONDERFUL! The pain was markedly alleviated, and the angst and anger in his heart became calm. He finally found some relief from the agony. He experienced the first real restful sleep he had since the accident.

Marcos has since discovered fulfillment through work with other marijuana patients. He has watched mere shadows of people return from their deathbed because of the healing herb. He has heard the sighs of relief from a terminal patient after a few puffs of this wonderful blessing. If it wasn’t for medical marijuana, Marcos would have plunged into a world of drug abuse from which there is no return. If it wasn’t for medical marijuana, Marcos could have died from his own hands, because depression can also be a terminal disease. Oh, and one more thing, because of medical marijuana, Marcos has danced again. He even won first place in a West Coast Ballroom Dance Tournament!

The beneficial power of medical marijuana is truly a miracle.


Steven S.

Crohn's Disease Patient

Steven S. has suffered from Crohn’s disease his entire life. Beginning in primary years, he was often sick to his stomach and unable to take part in many school activities. Pediatricians were baffled by the symptoms, so his constant malaise remained a mystery throughout childhood. Steven was a teenage shut-in. While other kids were playing sports and dating, Steven was home with a bellyache. He missed many days of school, and his grades were low.

In 1974, two years after graduating from high school, he was taken to the hospital for severe intestinal hemorrhaging. He was then diagnosed with Crohn’s, a genetic, inherited autoimmune disease that attacks the intestines, causing poor digestion and irreversible damage. The condition was not well-known at that time; President Eisenhower was one of the first persons ever diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. The digestive disease finally explained why Steven was continuously afflicted with cramps, diarrhea, and nausea.

In 1978, the symptoms of Steven’s illness became even more acute. Unable to eat and digest food normally, his weight dropped to just 110 pounds. He was bedridden for many months. He could not eat solid food without extreme pain in his digestive tract. Every time he ate his guts felt like they were being pierced by a hot knife. Steven survived by drinking liquid protein nutritional supplements. Marijuana turned out to be his only solace. Pot smoking provided some minor relief from the physical and mental devastation of his life. At that time, before much was known about the medicinal benefits of marijuana, Steven did not realize that he was self-medicating. All he knew at that time was that it made him feel better. He began to eat more, and regained his strength while he was a “recreational” pot smoker during the late 1970’s. He didn’t fully comprehend the importance of marijuana in his life until he stopped using it in 1984.

Steven recovered enough to go to work as a delivery driver and carpenter. He was married and had two children. Life was relatively good. But Steven’s wife worried about his pot use; it was illegal and she was concerned that Steven’s daily marijuana habit could somehow affect their children. A devoted family man, Steven stopped smoking the illegal weed.

Steven’s life became increasingly miserable after he quit using marijuana. Sympathetic doctors tried everything in the book to make his life more bearable. Among other treatments, they prescribed prednisone, a steroid drug that stopped the internal bleeding, but made all of his other symptoms worse. Prednisone caused depression, anxiety, sleeplessness, and other unpleasant side-effects. Prednisone is also known to cause osteoporosis, a condition where bones become dangerously brittle. Doctors at the University of Washington tried numerous experimental drugs in their attempt to stop the progression of Crohn’s disease, but there was no real success. Steven slid into a dark, foreboding anguish, anticipating a life of hospitalization, continuing surgical removal of dead intestinal tissues, and a malingering loss of all those experiences most precious to a young father.

Without his marijuana for relief, and with powerful pharmaceutical drugs poisoning his system, Steven felt hopeless and helpless. He was hospitalized several times a year. When not in the hospital, he was constantly nauseated and fatigued. He became severely depressed. Without the soothing scent of cannabis to help ease his torment, Steven sank into oblivion with valium and alcohol to help cope with the immense pain in his guts. Chemical depressants only added to his increasingly negative outlook. His whole family was infected with the depression.

In 1989, after five dismal years without marijuana, severe symptoms of Crohn’s disease flared up again. Steven’s intestines hemorrhaged. The bleeding was so severe he lost sixteen units of blood in just four hours. Surgeons performed an emergency resection, removing five inches of his ileum and six inches of his intestines. The prognosis was extremely depressing. Steven needed a miracle.

Steven resumed smoking marijuana at home behind closed doors. His wife understood that it helped him cope with the pain and depression. More importantly, Steven’s use of cannabis became more explainable as the use of medical marijuana became popular for appetite stimulation and suppression of nausea for AIDS and cancer patients. After many years of horrid illness and disability, Steven once again resumed a comparatively normal life by invoking the soothing scent of cannabis smoke along with other breakthrough treatments.

For Steven and thousands of other misunderstood patients, the legalization of medical marijuana in the late 1990’s was more than just a minor relief. After a lifetime of hiding in the closet, Steven is now able to hold down a job with his head held high. No longer does he lie awake at night worried that his lifesaving herbal medication might invite police to raid his home and steal away his children to some court-appointed foster home. Now everyone knows marijuana is not a dangerous drug, but rather, a lifesaving herb. It is as benign as milk and honey. Steven needs marijuana to eat and sleep. Without marijuana, Steven can not eat his breakfast, nor can he hold down a job. Steven’s doctor is very approving of his marijuana use because his condition has stabilized and so he has avoided more surgery and unpleasant treatments typically applied to other Crohn’s patients. For Steven, medical marijuana is a blessing he cannot rightly live without.


Rick M.

Cancer Survivor

As a young adult, Rick was on a short vacation when he noticed a small orange lump under his arm. His arm was growing strangely numb, and those first signs triggered sharp anxiety that ruined the trip for him. He kept his worries a secret from the brother he was visiting, but he scheduled a medical examination immediately upon returning to his home. A biopsy was done, revealing non-Hodgkin’s Small Cell Lymphoma--malignant cancer. Rick was ordered to undergo chemotherapy, the ingestion of toxic drugs required to kill the cancer before it kills the host.

Rick calls chemotherapy, “A nasty, nasty treatment”. He reports the first dose was unpleasant, but tolerable. The second dose was worse. Rick’s body began to react more and more violently as the regimen continued. He was tired. He ached all over. He vomited uncontrollably and couldn’t keep down any solid food. He was restless and irritable, almost as if he had the flu, and nothing the doctor prescribed helped to ease his misery.

Rick was at the end of his rope with the terrible side-effects of the treatment. He complained about the retching and nausea to his pharmacist. The grandmotherly pill-pusher casually asked, “Well, have you ever tried Marinol?” Rick had never heard of the synthetic THC drug intended to mimic the effects of natural cannabis. Rick shook his head, and she continued, “You should try it. It’s a derivative of marijuana. They say it helps to put the weight back on.” So it was prescribed, and ordered. Rick returned to his grey-haired drug dealer weeks later and pounds lighter, but still to no avail. One day she adjusted her glasses, leaned over the counter, and spoke in a slightly softer voice. "It seems to be taking a long time . . . Why don’t you just try smoking marijuana?” Rick was a little shocked, hearing the duly vested medicinal authority suggest using an herbal drug that was still illegal at that time.

“Thank goodness for medical marijuana!” says Rick, years later. He found he could eat better, sleep better, and it gave him a brighter outlook. Rick feels the reduction of pain and nausea symptoms was a crucial adjunctive therapy, and the increase of his positive outlook was instrumental in surviving the ordeal. Over time, he discovered firsthand that the natural herb, marijuana, worked far better than the synthetic drug called Marinol for several reasons. First, it is known that the natural herbal medicine contains an array of cannabis compounds that work interactively to improve gastric functions better than any one of the them separately. Secondly, the Marinol pills are difficult to use because they create an overwhelming “high” that often puts its users right to sleep, or at least into a mental fog. Cancer patient learn that smoking or vaporizing cannabis is preferable because it is much easier to ingest the exact dosage needed at the precise moment where it is needed most. Finally, as Rick queries pointedly, “How are you supposed to keep down a pill when you’re nauseated and vomiting violently?”

After six months of ingesting pharmaceutical poisons, Rick’s white blood cell count was the lowest it had ever been. So his physician skipped a month before administering the chemotherapy treatment again. ick says, “That last dose was the worst. It was really hard. Medical marijuana was the only thing that helped me through that last bout. It was administered through an I.V. once a month. I remember going into the doctor’s office for about two hours on the gurney, and watching the bag empty. I had smoked in the car just before, and I remember trying to let the cannabis work, just breathing, looking at the bag, and thinking ‘it’s medicine, it’s good for me, it’s going to fix me.’ It burned, as it always did going in. It hurt. I could feel the burning sensation go through my arm and could literally feel it course through my body... it was so nasty. After that they put me on oral chemo--several different drugs that tore me up internally.” Simple words like nausea, vomiting and diarrhea fail to convey the horrid physical feelings and months of gut-wrenching unpleasantness that is required to halt the spread of lymphoma. Rick does not know how he could have survived that nightmare without the use of nature’s greatest medicine.

Ten years later, Rick was once again on vacation, celebrating his successful remission when he noticed spots on his leg. He thought, “Oh, no! Not again!” Once again, he kept his fears to himself rather than ruining the trip for his traveling companions. Once again, he called his doctor as soon as he arrived home. But then there was a twist. Rick saw a dermatologist who said, “Those spots on your legs are fine, but what is that spot on the top of your head?“ Rick said, “Oh, that’s just a birthmark.” The doctor said, “No, I don’t think so . . .”

Rick got a call the day before Thanksgiving. He was positive for melanoma--skin cancer. He was told to see an oncologist, reputedly one of the best in the world. This time Rick was spared the sheer horridness of chemotherapy. Instead, he was treated to a series of surgeries on his head, and on his leg for the graft material needed to repair the scars on his scalp. The honored oncologist had no difficulty signing paperwork that made marijuana a legal option for his patient. Rick was relieved to finally be a legal marijuana patient after all the years he had spent hiding his herbal medication from nosey neighbors and jealous co-workers. Marijuana helped Rick cope with the pain and stress of the surgeries. Moreover, marijuana changed his mood from gloomy to relatively upbeat at a time when he might have been terribly depressed and distraught. He says, “Marijuana gave me a break from the serious thinking, like, ’Oh, no! I have cancer again! What am I going to do?’ Instead, I began thinking, ’I know I’m going to get through this--I’m going to be okay.’ It made me laugh, and laughter is a great healer.”


Robert Whorton

Epilepsy Patient

Robert Whorton was hurt in a bicycle accident when he was eight years old. The front wheel of his 70’s style “banana-bike” hit a brick in the road and young Robbie was tossed over the handlebars. He landed on his head and was knocked unconscious. A neighbor rushed over and carried him inside. Robert dimly remembers awaking with his hand on his throbbing head and blood streaming down his face. He was taken to the hospital and told he had a concussion. He was treated and released, but about a month or so after the bike accident, Robert awoke to violent twitching. The twitching quickly turned to overpowering convulsions that rocked his whole body. The first grand mal epileptic seizure, including a complete loss of motor control with painful muscle spasms, lasted about 90 seconds. Robert’s pediatrician referred him to a specialist. Both physicians associated the seizures with his recent head injury.

The seizures continued for the next 30 years, irregardless of all medical remedies. Robert went through 5 different medications starting out with Phenobarbital, then to Tegretol, Dilantin, Depakote and Neurontin. Nothing worked to stop the terrible writhing. The amount of seizures and the way they came was sporadic—sometimes 3 at a time but only every other month or so. 95 to 98% of the seizures would happen while he was asleep, Robert would awaken with the awareness he was having a seizure by an aura of heat throughout his body. 20 seconds later, his right hand would begin twitching. After about 20 to 30 more seconds it moved up through the right side of his body until it took over his entire body for about 30 seconds. Robert was awakened to uncontrollable twitching and jerking—an overwhelming shock-wave of pain. His daytime hours were tainted with anxiety and dread. Bedtime loomed ominously at the mere thought of those tortuous awakenings.

Robert noticed the seizures were fairly consistent in frequency, but they were growing more powerful over the years. As a young adult, he was seen by a specialist who conducted many tests. Surprisingly, an MRI contradicted the apparent correlation between his bicycle accident and the seizures. EEG monitoring was conducted for a 6 day period; Robert was hospitalized, and restricted from his regular medications while he was kept fully awake for 72 hours. The specialist was not successful at inducing a seizure. After that, a new drug combination of Neurontin & Depakote was tried, but that had absolutely no effect on reducing the frequency or strength of Robert’s seizures. His doctor then prescribed liquid Lorazepam—a depressant similar to liquid valium. Overmedication caused Robert to sleep a lot and eat too much. He become lethargic and gained weight. His mind wandered into a dismal gloom. The frequency of the seizures never changed. The intensity continued to increase. Robert felt hopeless and helpless. Doctors had found where the seizures initial reactivity in the brain began when he had a seizure, but they could tell him little else. Robert had been over medicated since he was eight years old. At 32, he decided to take control of his own treatment, suggesting to his doctor that maybe he should stop medicating himself constantly, and instead medicate only as the seizures occurred.

The doctor thought it was risky to stop all medication suddenly, but she was persuaded to help. Robert then learned he was mentally and physically addicted to the pharmaceutical prescriptions. He lost 24 pounds in 2 ½ weeks. He also lost a few friends due to his sudden anti-social outbursts. After 16 years of chemical dependence, Robert was a nervous wreck. Unable to cope with his terrible mood swings, and unwilling to spend the rest of his life in an overmedicated fog, Robert tried marijuana as a substitute. It calmed him and relaxed him without turning him into a dull-witted zombie. Two years after Washington enacted The Medical Use of Marijuana Act, Robert quit using all of the pharmaceutical medications that had been a fixture of his life for twenty four years. Marijuana, the mild herbal medicine, replaced the powerful synthetic drugs prescribed by doctors, and it worked. His mood has mellowed, his life is on a positive track, and he has had no seizures since that time—almost five years. Medical marijuana has totally reversed his condition. His doctors are amazed.