My Thoughts on Medical Marijuana
Something very strange has happened to me. As you know, I have an opinion about everything. And for some reason, people often seek my opinion on matters, which I happily, and admittedly, often haughtily give. I am currently stumped on a recent development in medicine, and actually, in our country. I am speaking of the legalization of marijuana. Medical marijuana. Even the name confuses me. I just see an oxymoron.
Oh I know what it is, but I remember (sorta) the ‘60s when it was named pot...weed...maryjane...grass...wacky tobaccy. I am really struggling with the stuff from the ‘60s being seen as a serious weapon in the arsenal of treatment modalities. Yes, yes, I know it's true, but my twisted brain can't get past, well, the past.
I can't help but thinking that patients will still have these illnesses, but after a few tokes, (I mean therapeutic inhalations) they just won't care anymore. Or they'll giggle incessantly about being sick. I see progress notes saying things like, "the patient no longer suffers from her high-atal hernia." Or "the patient's kidneys are now successfully re-stoned." And "the patient reports no more nausea, but has developed a severe craving for Cheetos."
So I've decided all I can do is just sit back, fire up the pipe (um, I mean woodstove pipe) and wait for the re-make of Reefer Madness 2015. I have my Cheetos ready.