Pubdate: Wed, 02 Apr 2014
Source: Marietta Daily Journal (GA)
Copyright: 2014 The Marietta Daily Journal.
Contact:  http://www.mdjonline.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/1904
Author: Michelle Malkin

A TRIP TO THE POT SHOP: IT WON'T BE THE LAST

PUEBLO WEST, Colo. - It's 9 a.m. on a weekday, and I'm at the Marisol
Therapeutics pot shop. This is serious business. Security is tight. ID
checks are frequent. Merchandise is strictly regulated, labeled,
wrapped and controlled. The store is clean, bright and safe. The
staffers are courteous and professional. Customers of all ages are
here.

There's a middle-aged woman at the counter nearby who could be your
school librarian. On the opposite end of the dispensary, a slender
young soldier in a wheelchair with close-cropped hair, dressed in his
fatigues, consults with a clerk. There's a gregarious cowboy and an
inquisitive pair of baby boomers looking at edibles. A dude in a
hoodie walks in with his backpack.

And then there's my husband and me.

The dispensary is split in two: "recreational" on one side, "medical"
on the other. Medical customers must have state-issued cards and
doctor's approval. The inventory is not taxed, so prices are lower on
that side. On the recreational side, where I'm peering at mysterious
jars of prickly green goods, "Smoke on the Water" is thumping from
stereo speakers. Yes, there's a massive banner advertising a Tommy
Chong appearance, and issues of "High Times" are on display. But the
many imposing signs posted on the wall emphatically warn: No smoking,
no open drug consumption and absolutely no entry allowed into the
locked lab where the cannabis plants sit under bright lights.

Before I tell you how and why my hubby and I ended up at Marisol
Therapeutics, some background about my longtime support of medical
marijuana: More than 15 years ago in Seattle, while working at The
Seattle Times, I met an extraordinary man who changed my mind about
the issue. Ralph Seeley was a Navy nuclear submarine officer, pilot,
cellist and lawyer suffering from chordoma, a rare form of bone cancer
that starts in the spine. He had undergone several surgeries,
including removal of one lung and partial removal of the other, and
was confined to a wheelchair.

Chronically nauseous from chemotherapy and radiation, weak from a
suppressed appetite and suffering excruciating pain, Seeley turned to
marijuana cigarettes for relief.

Contrary to cultural stereotype, Seeley was far from "wasted." While
smoking the drug to reduce his pain, he finished law school -
something he couldn't have done while on far more powerful
"mainstream" narcotics, which left him zonked out and vomiting
uncontrollably in his hospital bed after chemo. Seeley had the backing
of his orthopedic doctor and University of Washington School of
Medicine oncologist Dr. Ernest Conrad. He took his plight to the
Washington state supreme court, where he asserted a constitutionally
protected liberty interest in having his doctor issue a medical pot
prescription.

The court rejected Seeley's case for physician-prescribed marijuana,
arguing the government's interest in preserving an "interlocking
trellis" of costly and ineffective War on Drug laws trumped his right
to individual autonomy and physician treatment. After a decade-long
battle with cancer, Seeley died in 1998. But his spirit persevered.
Seeley bravely paved the way for medical marijuana laws in nearly two
dozen states, including Washington's Initiative 692, approved by
voters 10 months after he died, and Colorado's Amendment 20, passed by
popular referendum in 2000.

Support for these ballot measures and similar efforts (like the newly
enacted Charlee's Law in Utah legalizing medical cannabis oil)
transcends political lines. Why? Because cancer, epilepsy, multiple
sclerosis and other chronic and terminal diseases have no partisan
affiliations.

This brings us back to Pueblo. For the past three months, my
mother-in-law, Carole, whom I love with all my heart, has battled
metastatic melanoma. After a harrowing week of hospitalization and
radiation, she's at home now. A miraculous new combination of oral
cancer drugs seems to have helped enormously with pain and possibly
contained the disease's spread. But Carole's loss of appetite and
nausea persist.

A month ago, with encouragement from all of her doctors here in
Colorado, she applied for a state-issued medical marijuana card. It
still hasn't come through. As a clerk at Marisol Therapeutics told us,
there's a huge backlog. But thanks to Amendment 64, the marijuana drug
legalization act approved by voters in 2012, we were able to legally
and safely circumvent the bureaucratic holdup. "A lot of people are in
your same situation," the pot shop staffer told us. "We see it all the
time, and we're glad we can help."

Our stash included 10 pre-rolled joints, a "vape pen" and two
containers of cheddar cheese-flavored marijuana crackers (they were
out of brownies). So far, just one cracker a day is yielding health
benefits. Carole is eating better than she has in three months. For
us, there's no greater joy than sharing the simple pleasure of
gathering in the kitchen for a meal, with Grandma Carole at the head
of the table.

Do I worry about the negative costs, abuses and cultural consequences
of unbridled recreational pot use? Of course I do. But when you get
past all the "Rocky Mountain High" jokes and look past all the
cable-news caricatures, the legalized marijuana entrepreneurs here in
my adopted home state are just like any other entrepreneurs: securing
capital, paying taxes, complying with a thicket of regulations, taking
risks and providing goods and services that ordinary people want and
need. Including our grateful family.

Michelle Malkin is the author of "Culture of Corruption: Obama and 
his Team of Tax Cheats, Crooks and Cronies" (Regnery 2010). 
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MAP posted-by: Jo-D