For some reason, today seems like the right day to discuss California-approved medical marijuana. From when I was first diagnosed right up until the chemo drugs started flowing, it was fun to joke about how I should get a prescription and share the wealth. Then I spent a week from hell on the couch, withering away from nausea and pain. By Thursday, Dr. Oncologist was worried enough about my condition that she suggested medical marijuana. Completely on her own accord. She even wrote up the prescription for Matt to pick up, though she made it clear that it was still my choice.

At the time, the thought just made me more upset. In retrospect, I'm not really sure why it made me upset, except for the fact that I was already well past miserable and somewhere near tormented soul. Once my brain, and the rest of my body, returned to a useful state, it took me about 37 milliseconds to decide that I am willing to try anything to not experience the same level of agony again. Maybe when I'm high it'll be funny again!

This weekend we are going to the apothecary to stock up on medical supplies. I will report back with my experience on a less appropriate day.