Weed

Chemotherapy-induced nausea is unpleasant. I have tried the anti-emetics (anti-throw-up medications), eating profuse amounts of ginger, ginger snaps, crystallized ginger, ginger ale and sushi ginger without success. The nausea remains. I thought I could just power through it. I was determined to eat even if I didn't feel like eating or that it would cause me to expel my gastric contents. However, the repulsiveness of food is an amazingly formidable opponent. I am stymied and feel that not eating anything is far more appealing. However, not eating anything only exacerbates the nausea and the vicious cycle begins. Granted, I have not been very good at nausea management. I have not taken the medications until the nausea gets so bad that I am deep in the nausea hole that no small rope can get me out of. I should know this being a nurse, that managing symptoms starts with early management and acknowledgement of symptoms...Healthcare workers are the worst patients. I guess part of it is curiosity: "How bad can it get?" Well, last week, I got my answer. It is not pleasant as I have mentioned before. I must take full responsibility for my misery, and I do.

In the last two months, I have received overwhelming bits of information about medical marijuana. Whenever I mention (read "complain") about the intense nausea, people have asked if I have started "smoking weed." Nurses, teachers, parents, all responsible individuals recommending that I start toking. Even some of the older ladies I know (well into their 70's...), "Honey, you gotta try smoking some herb!" I can't help but laugh. Me? Smoke pot? I'm a responsible mother of 2 and registered nurse who took an oath not to partake in such nefarious activities! Besides, I smoked enough weed back in High School that would put even the stoutest Rastafarian to shame. Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against my Mary Jane-loving friends. They are good people with jobs and families and probably more inner peace than most anyone else I know. The plain simple truth for me is that pot makes me stupid. I mean really stupid and just a little bit paranoid. Smoking pot to alleviate my nausea would only be trading one miserable condition for another. I would no longer be nauseated, but I would then be unable to focus on my daily activities. I would require more assistance from my husband and family because I would be forgetting why I was rummaging through the pantry for anything resembling potato chips or gorp.

I mean if I am going to recreate pharmaceutically, give me an opiate narcotic any day of the week and I'm good. Why would I prefer the poppy over cannabis? Who knows? Both of them are organically grown, exist in nature and have their desirable central nervous system effects. However, pot is variable in its potency and molecular structure. Opiates are, well opiates, extracted in labs, measured in milligrams and dispensed by someone who is legally required to know the exact contents. I find this a little more comforting than the machine-gun toting groups that bring Cannabis to market. Who knows what's in that stuff besides the naturally occurring tetrahydrocannibinol (THC)? Sure, there is also Marinol which is the pharmaceutical version for those people who do not wish to go the natural route and can get it from their local pharmacy. However, I'll say again that it just makes me stupid and really, I'm just trading one undesirable condition for another. I do not partake of the poppy very frequently. When I do, it is usally post-operatively or when I am not responsible for children, cooking, driving or anything else, which is pretty much close to never. I view pot in very much the same light. The conditions must be right and the planets must line up perfectly and since they rarely do, smoking pot is just another recreation I simply cannot afford.

However, now I am a Cancer patient. So why not start smoking pot? Marijuana (and opiates for that matter) affect the central nervous system, a.k.a. the brain, spinal cord, and corresponding nerves, more widely accepted as your conscious ability to deal with stressful situations, and flee from the sabertooth tiger that is standing in front of you. When I was in labor with Stella (approximately 9 years ago), I tried to deliver naturally. After 28 hours of intense 90 second contractions every 2-3 minutes, I finally cried uncle and begged to be relieved of my misery as any sane pregnant woman would and has done for millennia. They administered a drug called Stadol a.ka. Butorphanol, a morphine-like synthetic analgesic and safe for pregnancy. Up to that point, I was dealing with my contractions. I knew they were coming and I would focus on breathing and anything else to get myself through these intense contractions. The Stadol did not reduce my pain at all. It made me sleepy and took away my ability to focus and handle my situation. Essentially, I felt like I was crazy and had the irresistible urge to scream and assault people. I begged them not to give me anymore of that stuff and I am pretty sure my OB nurses were relieved to oblige after subsequent hours of my many Linda Blair impressions.....

I have choices in my treatment. My goal is to do this as gracefully as possible with little impact on my family and community. I would like to do this bravely and with courage which means I need my mental clarity. Polypharmacy is a slippery slope. I have a whole basket of supplements I keep in the kitchen, Vitamin D for my deficiency, Vitamin E for tissue healing, Milk thistle for my liver, Juice Plus for the phytos I simply can't eat enough of, Kyo-green for immunity, Probiotics to re-colonize my gut, Glutamine for mucositis and gastrointestinal symptoms, Prune Juice and Miralax for the obvious.....In the bathroom, another basket of meds, Emend, Zofran, Compazine and Ativan all for nausea, Docusate Sodium to potentiate the effects of the prune juice (chemo and all the anti-emetics are constipating), special fluoride for my teeth, and special mouthwashes to keep my mouth moist and free of mouth problems. Adding one more drug to the mix just seems like way too much to manage, especially a drug that varies in potency and effect. If I managed the drugs I already have a little better, the need would probably not be so great.

It's funny when I resist the urgings of friends to start smoking weed. They are incredibly persuasive.

"Patients report it works for them!"

"Well, you would be smoking it legally and they have many different kinds of marijuana now that are not as potent, not as contaminated, not as....."

".....I'm growing a particularly mild version that I think you might like!"

Despite explaining my misgivings to my good-intentioned friends, and politely turning down free offers from well-meaning suppliers, I sense a sort of angst. It is as if they are frustrated with me for not heeding their advice or implementing their suggestion. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's more for them than for me. No one wants to see a friend suffer for any reason and almost everyone I know wants to help in some wonderful way and make the difficult parts all go away.

I am honored that people would reach out and try to take away my nausea or my misery. And if you are reading, may I just say thank you for your kindness. However, sometimes life is just hard. It's what makes the good times, .......good. I have these moments everyday. They come out of nowhere and they are wonderful.

In the movie "Braveheart", towards the end when Mel Gibson's character, William Wallace, is about to be drawn and quartered in a public display, the Queen, who is smitten with him and carrying his child (we find out later)....brings him a numbing poison that will help dull the pain of the horrible death he is about to endure. He refuses, claiming, "I must keep my wits about me." Now granted, this example is a little dramatic, but I feel much the same way. As horrible as things might be sometimes, I feel that I must "keep my wits about me" and remain clear to be able to focus on enduring the task at hand, and be open to the really good things that happen. It is the experience of life, and when you are faced with your mortality at an early age, you start to appreciate every experience, bad or good, as a gift of living. The life I choose to lead after the chemo and radiation are done, and the side effects are no longer as awful, will be a life of clarity, and hopefully a life free of any pharmaceuticals. Hopefully, this choice will remain mine to make. It is a choice that is formulated deep from my humble beginnings, and bears no judgment on the choices of others.

I have a very long road ahead of me (much like my first labor and delivery). There may come a time when I've had it, and all I need is a really good joint, a bag of Salt & Pepper Kettle Chips, and a jar of peanut butter, but for now, I will pass the pot brownies, the pot pizza, and the cannabutter to my friends who have had more years of experience with this sort of thing and politely refrain from adding one more chemical compound to my already chemically toxic wasteland. Thanks to all who are looking out for me any way they can. Please feel free to smoke a bowl for me anytime. It will probably do wonders for my nausea......or at least your experience of it.