My friend of ten years died today. He had liver cancer, was 52 years old, and survived by a confused wife, five kids, and one grandchild. Cannabis did not save his life, because he wouldn’t try it.
When he told me last year that he had liver cancer, I immediately told him about Rick Simpson Oil. I begged him … please… I don’t want to lose you. I have access to highly-potent, tumor-killing medicine from the best medicine growers in Washington. Look at the studies! Let me show you the research! It’s here, it’s affordable, and it’s available right NOW! What have we got to lose?!?
“Well, my doctors want me to follow their strict dietary guidelines, and of course chemo and radiation. Just bring me some medicated cookies and we won’t tell anyone.” So that’s what I did for nine months… I watched my dear friend wither away while sneaking him brownies and baked goods, which didn’t seem to be working. Ugh… the frustration and heartache is unbearable.
Three weeks ago he asked me to come to his house to put highlights in my hair before his big trip to Maui. “Bring me some cookies. And a big tip for my vacation.” He and his family own a beauty salon in SoDo, and every eight weeks like clockwork, I was in his chair. This man made me feel more beautiful than any of my lovers, who he knew all about. He kept all my secrets, and I kept his.
His youngest daughter answered the door, and told me to go upstairs, which I thought was odd, since there were only bedrooms upstairs. I reluctantly ascend the stairs, round the corner and there he was … laying in bed, covers up to his neck. I knew right then, there was no way he was doing my hair. There was no way of doing anything, except talking, in quiet voices. I tried to make light, happy conversation. We did our usual lines from Dumb and Dumber, “Those your skiis”? He asked.
“Both of them?” I crawled on the bed so I could be closer to him. I handed him the vacuum-sealed brownies which he secretly stashed under the sheets.
He never told anyone that he used marijuana to ease his suffering. He didn’t tell his wife or parents because of the stigma attached to it. And I think he worried even more that, with what little financial aid they may qualify, it would be jeopardized or revoked if he tested positive for THC. Oh, the humanity!
When it was time to go, I kissed his forehead, told him I loved him, and secretly prayed I’d get to see him one more time. As I headed downstairs, trying to keep it together in front of his beautiful kids, his wife grabbed my hands, and looked in my eyes for answers. She was so lost… so confused… they are losing their house because of the overwhelming medical costs. She and their three little kids will have to move and start over somewhere else.
Now, I’ll never know if cannabis would have saved his life, shrunk his tumors, or helped him in any other way. But I do know that I miss my friend an awful lot, and I can’t help thinking I (WE) could have done more to save him. And that’s a really crappy feeling.
Rest in Peace, sweet friend. I’ll miss you.