I've been asked a wide variety of questions along the "journey" - some serious and some silly, but all interesting. One particular inquiry has seen a high-er-than-expected degree of freak-quency. People who know me (or people who think they know me) have asked, "So, did you get a script?" Judging by the nudge/nudge-wink/wink, slight bit of side-eye nature of their probing, I can only surmise that they are reefer-ing to medical marijuana.
I've worked hard to keep politics and my perspective on the health of Uncle Sam out of our dialogue, but I think it's fair to observe that we are in the midst of an opioid addiction dilemma. I'm not so pristine or disciplined that I reject the idea of prescribed pain medication to help my mind get through a period of discomfort while my body goes through the healing process. And the deterrent of the side-effects of opioids (constipation) is enough of a disincentive. Like so many other aspects of my personal experience, I was fortunate enough to never reach a level of discomfort where the desire for pain relief was beyond question. And if it had been, I would have been first in line.
But on a day-to-day basis, I never felt that my nausea, lack of appetite or general infirmity reached a level where I would have sought to avail myself of this now-legal option. Having that choice available for many cancer suffers is a true blessing.
We all have our own demons. Some fear needles, others don't like the sight of blood, maybe it's the unpleasant idea of regurgitation, or hair loss, or any other unknown side-effect that could uniquely befall any individual going through chemotherapy. For me I guess it's holding out for pain meds until I really need it, and am never quite sure how much pain that's supposed to be. If I play that card too soon, I may have exhausted my reasonable options prematurely. Too late, and I’m hurting needlessly - in the era of modern medicine. but for the moment, this Rosen is reefer free.
