'Still Treated As Criminals'

The walls are bright white and patched with red construction tape. Fluorescent lights -- mimicking sunlight -- shine down on 20 flowering plants of varying strains.

Two giant pails of water being aerated fill the room with a low hum, as Jason Hiltz stands above rows of flowering herbs in the converted garage greenhouse.

There, just off the main drag in a small town outside Saskatoon, sits one of 94 legal medical marijuana grow operations in the province and one of the many Hiltz helped get off the ground.

It's unsophisticated, but it works, he said.

"This has a few glossy spots," Hiltz tells James Francis, 52, who says he's the longest licensed user of medical marijuana in Canada.

"When did you last water?"

Hiltz, a horticulturist and Saskatchewan's best known pot advocate, is Francis' cannabis consultant, helping him and 12 other local medical marijuana growers cultivate their crops.

Hiltz, who is also a licensed user after a car crash left him with chronic pain, helps everyone from family friends to elderly people on their death beds access medicinal marijuana and advises a number of growers on how to wind through Health Canada's bureaucratic morass.

"It's about compassion," Hiltz says. "Honestly, it's probably easier being an illegal grower than a legal grower."

More research is supporting previous anecdotal evidence that cannabis may have a wide range of therapeutic uses, such as the treatment of Alzheimer's, depression, glaucoma, epilepsy, cancer, HIV/AIDS and hepatitis.

However, the medical growers in the Saskatoon area say the government's program has artificially depressed the medical market by making it difficult for patients to qualify, supplying what many consider poor-quality marijuana and restricting qualified licensed growers to supplying a maximum of two patients.

Growers say they live in fear of break-ins, some say they're discriminated against by police who still view their grow-ops with an air of suspicion and struggle against the insurance industry, which wants absolutely nothing to do with the risks.

"We're still treated as criminals," says Jeff Lundstrom, the owner of Skunk Funk, a head shop that he says has become the local headquarters for the medical marijuana community.

Lundstrom, who is authorized to grow for two users under the federal program, had his garage-based grow room broken into over winter. Someone caught wind of the operation, drove a vehicle through his garage and made off with two plants he was pollenizing. The legal operation wasn't covered by insurance and he was forced to pay for the repairs -- the thieves were never caught.

"Now, you don't worry about the police kicking in your door," Lundstrom says, "you worry about some thug kicking in your door and stealing the medicine."

Saskatoon Police Const. Dean Hoover, head of the integrated drug unit, says Saskatoon hasn't yet seen the problem, cited by the RCMP in several jurisdictions, where medical growers traffic excess marijuana to make a profit.

The major issue for police is the lack of available information from the Health Canada program. The police aren't given a list ahead of time on where medical grow-ops exist. They're not informed until they want to do a search warrant, he said. If police agencies knew the addresses they may also be able to help with enforcement, he says. Grey is not a good colour for the law, he says.

"Until they get some type of system where they give us lists of who's got them to ensure they're not going above their quotas, what are we going to do?" Hoover says.

A Health Canada spokesperson, in an email interview, says the government will only disclose information to police if a person is suspected of illegal activity. Otherwise, it's seen as a privacy breach.

The legalization of marijuana or even the over-the-counter sale in a compassion club in Saskatchewan, where weed is given out to those with a medical card, is a pipe dream because the acceptance of the drug, from a cultural perspective, doesn't come close to matching that of British Columbia, where several dispensaries exist, Hoover says.

Marijuana is the most prolific drug in Saskatoon and its risks shouldn't be downplayed due to the potency of modern pot, he says. With the advent of THC pills, there's no need for smoking medical marijuana, he says.

"I've never talked to a ******* user or morphine addict that didn't start off by smoking marijuana," Hoover says. "Anyone that says it's not a gateway drug is full of shit."

Lundstrom sits behind a desk at the back of his store, hemp posters adorning the walls and pot paraphernalia strewn around his desk.

He has tried to get a medical exemption himself because of chronic back problems suffered when he fell off scaffolding, but has been denied four times by wary doctors. He left the doctor's office in tears recently after he was told cannabis stimulates appetite, a side-effect that would not help with his weight. Like the vast majority of patients who say they need marijuana as a medicine, Lundstrom continues to buy pot on the black market.

The market exists in Saskatchewan to start a compassion club or dispensary similar to those in B.C., but those looking to grow or use for medical reasons are stilted by doctors unwilling to prescribe, Lundstrom says.

Several advocates say their goal is to start a sustainable commercial agriculture operation in Saskatchewan to provide medicinal marijuana to those with exemption cards if the Health Canada restrictions are lifted.

"There's 50 people I could be growing for right now and I'm only allowed to grow for two. It's a headache, plain and simple," Lundstrom says.

"It's still illegal and to many people medical marijuana is just simply a loophole to an illegal system and that's how it's being treated."

The limit of growing for two users, however, doesn't appear set to change any time soon. It was established "in order to reduce the risk of diversion and to protect the health and safety of Canadians," Health Canada's spokesperson writes.

Francis, the long-time medical marijuana user whose name has been changed because of fear of break-ins and the stigma he faces in the small town, says he's been working out daily, awaiting the day a burglar comes through the door.

He decided to build his own grow-up -- at a substantial cost -- because product from Health Canada wasn't potent enough and the supply from growers in B.C. was inconsistent.

A collision in Saskatoon 12 years ago crushed half of Francis' spinal chord, leaving him unable to feel his legs for three years. A long-time recreational user, he turned to cannabis, which he smokes or ingests up to 10 times a day, because heavier prescription pain killers zapped his energy, left him constipated and unable to sleep.

Slowly, Francis has been able to wean the amount of morphine he uses down to almost zero, which he credits to medicinal marijuana.

"It doesn't kill the pain, but it deflects it," he says. "It helps your mind carry on."


NewsHawk: Ganjarden: 420 MAGAZINE
Source: The StarPhoenix
Author: David Hutton
Contact: The StarPhoenix
Copyright: 2010 Canwest Publishing Inc.
Website: 'Still treated as criminals'
 
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