The Price of Being a Patient

The Economics of Medical Marijuana and Disability

Background

In the past five years, I have had the incredible opportunity to travel the country and visit friends across the USA. Many of the friends I have visited, have been cannabis patients. Most of my friends are disabled, and/or caring for a disabled family member or dear friend.

I have witnessed many paradigms across the country, but for the purposes of this piece, I will limit my observations to the states where cannabis has been made legal for medical use.

Recently, a few more states have been added to the quazi-legal paradigm of "recreational cannabis" that I witnessed in Washington this past year and their attempt to implement it.

I had voted against I-502 for a number of reasons (for a full explanation, please read my blog piece, "This Woman and Her Vote"), but it passed regardless. The push for taxable marijuana was too big of a carrot to pass up for Washington State voters.

I also understand, and empathize with those people who need cannabis for medical purposes, but who can not afford the required doctor paperwork which is not covered by any insurance. This is largely due to the fact that the federal government has issued threats to licensed physicians that they will prohibit them from practicing if they do get themselves involved with medical cannabis.

In spite of this fact, the New England Journal of Medicine in May of 2013, reported that 76% of physicians agreed with medicinal cannabis use.

PATIENT ACCESS

When "recreational marijuana" was legalized in Washington State, it took over 18 months to implement the legal state-taxed store sales. The law had created a grey market. It was legal to possess, but not buy or sell or cultivate. However, it was and still is, legal to cultivate up to 15 plants if you are a legal patient.

Thus spurned the grey market of Washington. Patients who could grow, who had the means and opportunity, found that they could pass on products to friends as long as they didn't get caught.

A sign in a Olympia, Washington
Collective Garden

With the popularity of BHO (Butane Hash Oil) exploding, patients also found themselves in a predicament where collective gardens would pay them money for the trim off of their plants. Trim that was in many instances, previously donated for the purpose of making FECO (full extract cannabis oil), one form of which is often referred to as RSO (Rick Simpson Oil).
It is THIS oil, this plant concentrate which has been credited by many ad hoc studies as well as personal testimonies, as having cured cancers.

Patient Income

I haven't found any formal statistics in regards to the proportion of medical marijuana patients on disability income. From personal experience including my experience volunteering at a Collective Garden in Washington, I would venture an educated guess at 60-75% of all medical cannabis users (with a valid recommendation, or not) are on disability income from either Social Security, or a private source.

Let's look at the numbers, JUST for Social Security. There are two programs. One serves the people who are too disabled to have supported themselves for any period of time by employment, that is called Supplemental Security Income (SSI). As of 2013, 4.92 MILLION US citizens were on this program, receiving an average payment per month of $550.

The second program is known as "Disabled Workers" or Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI). During the same time frame 8.96 million US citizens were drawing their Social Security through this program at an average payment of $1145/month.

When one averages the two classes of disabled Social Security recipients together, the average monthly income for 14 million people is less than $850 per month.

Medication Expense

From personal experience and observation, as well as physician recommendation and referral, the average cannabis patient with life threatening or chronic conditions requires between 1 and 3 grams

of dry, cured cannabis on a daily basis.

Prices for cannabis, per gram, can vary widely. The average up in Washington for medical is currently $10/gram. Washington is a state that also allows patients to grow up to 15 plants for their usage no matter their proximity to any organized & taxed grow or sales operation.

Arizona has a different paradigm. They enacted a "25-mile Rule" in regards to cultivating rights of patients. (A topic that will be covered in detail soon in a separate article). This means that if a patient lives within 25 miles (NOT driving distance, but as a "crow flies" which can be several hundred miles different) of a dispensary; they are not permitted to grow their own medication.

Arizona's state-taxed dispensaries charge upwards of $20/gram of dry medication. Then they add city, county and state taxes to the price.

A quick price comparison of the most popular concentrate, BHO, finds that Washington averages $30-50/gram; while Arizona charges $60-80/gram.

The cost of arguably the most beneficial concentrate of cannabis, full extract oil, is also the most expensive. FECO, RSO, Phoenix Tears, Raw Hash Oil are all names for a black-looking substance sold in capsules and syringes. It it dark green or dark amber depending on the method and solvent used. When an edible solvent (grain alcohol) is used, it is so green it looks black.

Washington Collective Gardens generally sell one gram of FECO for between $30 and $90.

The costs associated in making FECO for one's self to cure cancer is astronomical without growing one's own plants.

THE MATH BEHIND THE "CANNABIS CANCER CURE" 

It takes APPROXIMATELY one pound, sometimes more, of raw bud material of the cannabis plant, to process 60 grams, known as a 90 day treatment to begin a cancer cure.

Patients who have metastasized, are recommended to keep taking one gram of FECO every day for the rest of their lives as a maintenance dose.

FECO is not just recommended for cancers. Many studies have recommended that FECO is the ideal treatment and possibly cure for many types of neurological disorders as well as cancer. This raises the stakes when looking at the numbers of people with said conditions.

Back to the Math

If the average disabled patient makes less than $850/month, and uses only 1 gram of cannabis per day, in Washington state, purchased at a collective garden, that comes to $300/month medication cost. Leaving less than $550 to live on.

If that same person wants to heal themselves from cancer, and needs a 60 gram supply of FECO to do so, as well as dry medication to control symptoms like nausea which are not well controlled from the FECO, the numbers get CRAZY.

One pound of cannabis can not be purchased either in Arizona or Washington or any of the other medical states, legally.

One pound of cannabis can only be grown, then processed immediately. A pound of cannabis is approximately 453 grams.

If it were to be purchased, it would range from $4,530 in Washington prices or $9,000 in Arizona prices.

Then comes the price of the solvent and the physical ability to do the job of extracting it.

I do not personally know of any disabled patients who could afford to stay alive at these prices.

The Future

I don't know what the future holds. I can hope and pray that our federal government will see it's way to legalizing the safest medication that seems to grow on this earth.

I do know that the math doesn't make sense. I constantly wonder why are we extorting our meekest of meek and our sickest of sick to make money?

I hope that soon relief can be found for all of those in search of it....at a reasonable cost or with the unlimited ability to cultivate this plant.

Hippocracy of the Alternative

In these days when the Hippocratic oath is more than a little hypocritical, we need our alternative medical care more than ever before.

In today's world, those who have gone about getting their education in the prescribed manner have incurred so much debt, that entire professions worth of employees, be they physicians, pharmacists or licensed nurses and massage therapists; they are trained very well: You do what we say, or you loose your license. You must not use or do what you know is right, even though it is the compassionate thing to do, you will loose your way to earn money if you do it.

It is a simple as that. It all boils down to the almighty dollar. Non-maleficence, first doing no harm; has gone the way of family doctor who performs house calls. First, they harm your wallet, which effects your general well-being; then what they do causes more harm than good. Thus, ensuring your return and another procedure and visit that they can bill you for. Upfront payment accepted only. Medical ethics?!

When those with the initials after their names; when THOSE who have done the education the prescripted way, when THEY FAIL to act in a caring manner, when they FAIL to act with compassion and care CHOOSING the lure of Satan in the guise of the almighty dollar, those of us who DO CARE about our brother are forced to become "front line medics" using the tools that GOD Himself gave us to treat and attempt to cure what ails each other.

The next line of treatment, in a "compassionate state" is to go to the alternative care providers. Those with no medical degrees, relying on self-directed studies of the studies performed by distant scientists as well as anecdotal evidence of friends.

But what do we get, when we place our trust and health care needs in the hands of people we will actually call "family," a "canna-family;" solely because they partake of the same alternative treatment that we have chosen?

Under RCW 69.51a, the medical cannabis in Washington is governed. A new set of rules and laws were added when Washington State voters approved I-502 against the objections of many medical cannabis patients.

The fight for and against I-502 split the cannabis community in more than two pieces. A community that refers to itself as a family; now cannibalizing each other for the cash that they can procure. 


After traveling the country for the past 3 years, meeting a lot of people in a lot of different circumstances, most of them revolving around a plant, I decided to take up an invitation to "volunteer" at a local "collective garden" in Washington State for a few months. What I observed while there made me sicker than even "big pharma" has for a long time.

I will be posting stories from the Collective Garden I was volunteering at. It is and was the norm. I had the opportunity, while there and at other times, to interview and get to know as true friends, a large variety of people, all patients, who have volunteered in these "Gardens". Their, and my experience is typical of what a small town "Safe Access Point" is in Washington State.

I believe in a better paradigm. I aim to create a situation for myself, my husband and as many of our friends as possible in a community that is about caring. Cannabis is a part of it, but currency will not be.

My heart has been hurt tremendously by the people who call patients "family" only to be close to them when they receive their pittance of a decreasing valued limited income. It is time for all to grow their own. It is time for people to step up and help their neighbor if he CAN'T grow. It is time to be our brother's keeper. It is TIME to Overgrow the World with compassion. With the love and lighte of Christ. And with Cannabis.

Upcoming Holidaze

When I was thinking about the upcoming season, it occurred to me that it may not be the best timing to run my Florida errand, as it may be misconstrued by the family. I don't want that. 

Last year, a Facebook friend asked me to spend 2 weeks in Michigan with her. It was an unmitigated disaster. She and her son were both in profound depressions. I did not help the situation, and my moods suffered as well.

This year I have an invitation to spend the holiday season with a friend in Virginia near the Roanoke area.  After a bit of prayer, lots of meditation, and some VERY interesting Tarot readings, I am accepting the invitation. 

I have friends in the Carolinas as well as Georgia, who I hope to visit before I head to Virginia. If you are in that general area, and your schedule is amenable to a meeting during this time of year, please send me a message.

I will be heading to Florida in January. I like Florida in January, it was fun last year. January is a good month to be in Florida.  Love and LIghte!!!

Rest Area Chapter 1: Trip to Denver

I can't begin the story of the Rest Area without first telling the story of what lead up to it... and that began over a month previous to my leaving  Denver on a cold windy October Friday night. 

It was coming upon fall once again. I found myself in the Thurston County/ Olympia area after a quick trip to Denver and back with my best friend in August. In September came the news that I had lost the remainder of my possessions, including about 20 or so of my personal journals, all of my children's baby pictures, as well as parts of the book that I had written long hand during the previous spring and winter. 

It was all gone. But as much as I cried, the moisture of my tears couldn't ease the burning in my heart. I trusted that the man I was in love with would some how fix it all, but he didn't. 
Not only had he not fixed the legal matters we were involved in together, he broke my heart on my way out the door, saying that he knew that I never had the potential to be his soul mate. 

If he had spent the entire year and a half of our on-again-off-again relationship attempting to find something that could hurt me more than anything else, he couldn't have found a statement that would hurt me more.

I left town determined not to answer any of his text messages or calls. I made it four days. He pleaded with me to remain his friend. I am still ambivalent about that idea.

When I left town, I headed east. In the quiet of the early morning, I wound my way through the roads around the Cascade mountains and watched a beautiful sunrise with my puppy, Athena. 
I attempted to take in the beauty of the northwest that I was leaving, not sure when I would really return except to visit my adult children and their children.

I stopped at a friend's house in Idaho, but it wasn't much of a visit. Fortunately, she and I had visited a couple of times before this quick stop-over. I left for Colorado early the next day. 
When I drove through Utah I forgot about I-70 and the fact that their are no services aka no bathrooms for about 150 miles. Someone should warn disabled people not to travel that way from Utah to Colorado. 
For me, being someone with a very sensitive bladder (several surgeries), it caused me to get a speeding ticket on my first trip through in June, and a LOT of pain on this, my second trip.

By the time I got to my friend's home in Grand Junction, I was ready for a rest. I received a wonderful burst of energy via their wonderful princesses aka daughters.

I spent a couple of days with my family of friends in Grand Junction. They even drove us all up to Grand Mesa, where we took pictures of all the gorgeous autumn colors throughout the mesas. It was a day I will always treasure! 

Beautiful. Just gorgeous. Before this trip I had never realized that the desert changed colors with the seasons as much as a forest does. I had just never thought about it. 

My friends in Grand Junction said good-bye to me with hesitation, but they were aware that a friend in Denver had begged me to spend my birthday with her. I was on my way to do just that.

When I had put out on Facebook that I didn't know where I should spend my 45th birthday doing what, my friend Kim, in Denver who I had visited early in the summer, had posted "I don't have much, but I will share everything I have, come spend your birthday with me". So, I had planned out the trip to end up in Denver on October 19th, my 45th birthday. 

My second birthday as a single, homeless woman. A transient.

But I had friends. A friend had, in fact, invited me to spend time with her on my birthday. 

My birthday came and went, as any other day. The differences included that I went to sleep hungry, not wanting to venture out in the cold Denver night to my car, to the emergency food I had stored in it. I had already been admonished for drinking their milk, I wouldn't want to take any other food out of my friends' 15 year old child's mouth.

One other difference was the fact that the friend in question shared a blunt with me. But, in retrospect, she did charge me for that as well. 

My birthday was on a Wednesday, I was looking to leave around Friday for points southeast, but my friend kept insisting that I stay longer. When snow pummeled Denver on the next Wednesday, I again voiced my intentions to leave Thursday or Friday. Another friend of mine who I contacted, not wanting to leave the area without making such contact, informed me of a rally for a MMJ patient  in Colorado Springs. This seemed like a much better use of my time, than sitting on my bed in the middle of my friend's living room, so I agreed to meet in the morning to join the energies. 

Thursday, I was gone for most of the day with my other friends in support of medical cannabis patient, Bob Crouse, in Colorado Springs. His rights to use cannabis as medication were to be on trial. Once again, as I usually do during these gatherings of patients, friends, advocates and activists, I became re-energized. I remembered my goals.

We also touched base with the "Occupy Colorado Springs" movement while we were south of Denver. When I returned to my friends' house in Denver, I was not in the glum spirit that I had been feeling. I was back to wanting to change the world. 

That night  I slept a fitful sleep.  In the morning, I was to discover the reason. When I mentioned that I was still looking at leaving in the next few days, my friend stated to me that she wanted me to stay until I got my disability payment for the next month. She wanted me to pay for being there.

I was astonished, but not surprised. During my time there, I had come to understand that this friend of mine was still VERY embroiled in a self-destructive paradigm, being a chain smoker with pulmonary hypertension and a hole in her heart. She was also still wrapped in the cold comfort of pharmaceuticals: morphine, percocet and anti-anxiety medications while adding cannabis concentrates.  

Living out of her bed, she was a shadow of many of my memories. I wish her nothing but hope and health and love and lighte. 

I could not continue to exist there. My energy was overwhelmingly stifled. 
When she left that day to spend time with her family, I commenced  washing myself and my dog, then her bathtub, and packing up my bags and car.

I left a blank check with her teenage son, who had shared tears with me as I prepared to leave. I asked him to please remind her that I only have $850 each month to live on, but for her to please make the check for whatever she felt I owed her. 

With that, I took my puppy (who had her own issues saying goodbye to 5 other dogs), got in my car, and headed out to say goodbye to another friend before heading north. 

One Year In on the Pot Farm Facebook Tour

One year. 365 days. I have traveled a great deal in a year. I have meet many wonderful people. I haven't yet met all of those who have invited me to meet them. I haven't met nearly as many people as I desire to. But why? What is pushing me towards all of these beings? These beacons. My lighthouses.

I kept finding lighthouses in the people's homes who I was visiting. There were even a few cases in which the friend who I was visiting  had previously forgotten about the lighthouse printed on something, and denied their being one in the house.
The first stranger-friend (met within the game of "Pot Farm" on Facebook) who I visited had decorated her house with ceramic lighthouses of all sizes and types. They were beautiful. They reminded me of my grandma (who passed 18 years ago), and visiting the coast of Washington with her when I was a child. Wonderful memories.
My lighthouses followed me across the country, from Oregon to Wisconsin, to DC to Florida; they came to represent the beacons of light my friends are for me. Let your little light shine. More happy memories.
The not so happy memories of the last year: Loosing every bit of anything I had saved in my 45 years on this earth, including my journals and my kids' baby pictures; having my heart broken by my best friend; becoming truely homeless having absolutely nothing to my name besides a few suitcases of clothing and toiletries. Finalizing a divorce from my husband of 22 years, something I previously had never imagined I would ever do.
I don't consider living out of my car the times it was necessary as anything but what it has been: I have had fun camping with people and with my puppy. I have lived in a way that I was comfortable at the time.
My puppy. The first dog I have owned in my adult life. Athena Brooke was born on April 1, 2011, to a dog owned by a family of friends of mine while I was staying with them. She was one of a litter of five females and one male, who's mother Brandy, is a chocolate lab, and her father Rugar, is a blue pit bull. She looks like a black lab.... Silly dogs.
I have been in her life since the day she was born. She will be with me until one of us passes. I never thought I could have this much affection for an animal. It's pretty cool. I look forward to training her to work as a companion and certified service animal for me. She is already learning to know when I am not feeling well, and seeks to assist. Now it's a matter of teaching her what to do. I am looking forward to continuing to watch her grow and learn.
In the past year, I have seen places exhibiting beauty I have previously never even imagined. The sunny winter beaches of Florida, the desolate beauty of the Rocky Mountains, the powerful and immense waterfalls of Idaho and a sunset in in Arizona that took my breath away. From the never ending California highways to the gorgeous and deceptively solitary-appearing Olympic Forest in the back yard of the area I have lived for almost my entire life.
I long to see so much more. To continue to experience the beauty of this earth guided by the people who have invited me to their corner of this planet. Show me what you love about where you live. Please continue to share with me the beauty of you and the people around you.
My love and light goes out to the people who have, and continue to, share their love and light with me on-line. I haven't been the easiest of people to be friends with sometimes, I have many issues that I am continuing to learn from. I have been challenged with many lessons this past year from which I continue to learn and grow with the love and support from so many friends who have reached out to me on FaceBook. Thank you.
For the romantic interests... I have attempted not to tease. This has been a year of on again off again romance with my best friend. Unfortunately, when I have been attempting to free myself of a love for someone who does not return that same affection, I fear I may have trampled on a few hearts. For this I sincerely apologize. This was truly never my intention.
If I chose to spend time with you online or on the phone, I was there, at that moment, entirely. Unfortunately, a spark of hope kept reigniting every time I saw my best friend, thinking he may have fallen for me. It takes a long time to get over the person who opens the proverbial cage door.
I have, and will continue to follow my heart. I have yet to know where it will end up leading me. Please, be patient with me in this regard. I have a bit of healing to do after 22 years of marriage.
My never-ending love and light continues to shine on those who have shared with me so incredibly much: from a moment in a train station where a story was shared, to a couple of weeks in a spare room. All of my friends are very dear to me, their gifts to me I will treasure forever.
Thank you all; my lighthouses of hope for this world (well, at least for my little corner of it). 

Now I am heading out for another trip: to celebrate my 45th birthday. Happy Birthday to me. Look out world, here I come!

Father's Day

Wow, I had no idea what I was going to write about until I wrote the title to name the document.

Fathers day.

Father's Day 2009: Broke my heart, began my awakening, changed my life forever.

I need to respect the victim. So, I will not delve in to particulars. Those who were involved know who they are. The victim does not need to be victimized any further.

It took me 3 months to get myself off of the medications that my doctors had me on that had kidnapped my mobility and my mind. 

Fentanyl 100mg, brand name Duragesic, was the primary prescription. Then there were the additional meds just for the side effects of a narcotic that was 100 times stronger than morphine. Anti-depressants, anti-nauseants, anti-constipation meds....etc.

I went off of the fenantyl cold turkey; nearly dying, due to the fact that my husband repeatedly told me that he couldn't handle his own medications long enough for me to go to rehab and do it right. When I repeated what he said to the doctors in the ER, I was viewed as a junkie making excuses.

During the 3 weeks that it took for the primary withdrawals (symptoms and pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy), I was in the ER 3 times. 2 times by ambulance. 

It was a facebook friend who called 911. My husband, in the other room, didn't care enough to check on me to make sure that I was alright I am not certain what was in his mind at the time, but he didn't appear interested in my well being, or what withdrawal from a medication as strong as fentanyl can be. It can very often be fatal.

I had been first prescribed Duragesic on the Fall of 2002. I had lost my job only a month before I lost my "abilities". Isn't that what "dis-abled" means? My physician informed me that during the walk that I had taken with my family at the end of August (on fairly level ground, no more than a mile or so), was enough "gravity" to pull my bladder down once again. That was supposed to explain my pain. Truth be told, the initial injuries to that part of my body were made my my father when I was only an infant.

 In the months that followed, I had another bladder surgery, but that surgery left the two major nerves that pass over my pubic bone chronically inflamed. I was in agony.

The next five years were spent MAINLY in bed, on Fentanyl (it was at 100 mcg for over 20 months, only keeping withdrawals at bay.  That medication's effectiveness against pain always diminished within 3 months of a dosage change) and Percocet.

Then I started smoking marijuana for breakthrough pain.

My husband at the time did not approve. I smoked in "our" room. My bed, which in fact, WAS my home, was where I was "allowed" to smoke. If I did it when we were out, I had to take a walk around a building and hide. Even after I became "legal" with my medical card.

After I recovered from withdrawals (this took a few months), we began moving into a larger trailer, a double wide that we had decided to purchase from our neighbors.  Neither my husband or I were in physical condition to move, even across the street, but I treasured the long nights I chose to spend painting the walls of the new house with the music loud, only to feel like I was truly alone. It was a good feeling. This scared me.

After my husband and I moved into the new house, I was still unable to find my "place" in the house, other than in my bed. I didn't want to be in bed any longer, and the more I used marijuana for my pain and depression, the better I felt. I was no longer on any other prescriptions. I physically felt better than I had in years. However, every time my husband would lay down next to me, I prayed every night that I wouldn't wake up the next morning.

After I met my best friend in early March 2010, I found that wanted to wake up the next morning. When I discovered that feeling, it shocked me. Had I REALLY given up on life for that many months?! 

I remember walking away, leaving my husband, the day after Father's Day 2009. He txt'd me that he was having chest pains, so I returned. I never returned emotionally. On March 20, 2010, I finally left physically. It was the first day of the rest of my life.

I have never looked back since. Not to that man, that life, or that house. I left everything behind. He did what any hurt man would do - he attempted to hurt me with my "stuff," so I chose to let ALL my stuff go. That has been very difficult. 


My challenges I have made public, I know no other way to be. I seek to share my trials in the hopes that others will know they are not alone. Alone is a very sad feeling. Love and Light to all.

Today IS the First Day of the Rest of my Life

Today IS the first day of my life. My NEW life. 

I began by yesterday starting to treat my body with MMS. It promises to clean out the toxins and infections in my body. I can feel it working it's magic... laugh... now with Gramma Maggic, I keep wanting to spell magic with 2 "g"s.... I digress.... 

ANYway..... I have been told that I write the way that I talk; so for now, that's how my blogs are written.

I decided today that most of my "in depth" observations on life will be made here, rather than Facebook. If people WANT to read it, they will know where to go. 

That being said; I am also going to delete my GmaMaggic account tomorrow. Anyone who wants to stay friends can friend Maggie... ME. 

With that announcement, I was shocked to feel the OUTPOURING of support for me! Nice. Felt wonderful!!!

The MMS is doing its job: the runs are weird... they don't burn like I am used to... I am SO looking forward to getting ALL of the crud out of my body. I even felt like fasting... weird because I don't give up food for NO ONE or NOTHING! Laugh... okay... maybe I do...

I decided before I got here that I would not use cannabis while I was here. Strangely enough, I am out. Good timing (yes that part was planned... lol). 

I didn't decide on the fasting until the nausea got the best of me.... laugh... but it's all part of the process.... 

I want to start anew. I want to be cleansed, revitalized... that is what this treatment is doing for the inside of my body. I am looking forward to Kalina working on the outside, so perhaps some of the pain can be controlled once and for all. 

I am looking forward to SO MANY THINGS in the next few months:  Cleansing, refreshing, manatees, the race... and my kids' birthdays, my divorce being final... Georgia... THEN DC on April 20. 

After April 20, I will head out on the road on 2 wheels. From that... who knows. 

I will allow my Creator and our Universe to guide me on my path

Planning... THE trip

So, I am anxious to get back on the road. Now that a wonderful friend (a stranger only yesterday morning) came to my rescue (yes, being out of "green meds" causes me a desperate amount of pain and misery from nausea and massive pain issues, and it is enough to change my attitude about life... temporarily, often leading to dispair, but I digress....)

I am soliciting ideas on areas to visit. No more heading to a city unannounced. That doesn't work. I think it scares people. No, I am planning and announcing, and going ENTIRELY by my gut.

So far (as of Wednesday, 3 November 2010) have these destinations pencilled in: Florida, Wisconsin, Montana, Vegas, Texas & Virginia ... and I am ACTIVELY seeking additions. I am probably going to have the first few weeks mapped out in the next 48 hours.

I am EXCITED!!!!! Time to get this party STARTED!!!

Gramma Maggie 420

Since this journey has begun, it is time to create a space for just the journey.

This is it.

There are three seperate blogs that I will  be keeping. This is the one in which I will be documenting my journey to me, via the world.

This is a bit about who I am and what I am doing:

 

WHO AM I?!?

That is the question I am attempting to answer for myself during a journey around the country and world.

During this journey, I am hoping to visit anyone who is open to it. This can include my relatives, both those I know well and those whom I have yet to meet.

It also will include my “Pot Farm” friends from facebook.

I am also looking forward to visiting many of my friends who have moved to distant locals.

I know this much about myself:

I have the sense of humor of a 14 year old boy, and no “filter” between my brain and my mouth.

I am the mother of 3 children. I became a mom at the age of 17 after being told at age 15 that I wouldn’t be able to have children. I was married for 21 years to the father of my daughter, who is now 20. My sons are 26 and 24.

I am the grandma of 3 (identical twin girls who are 2 & a grandson who was born 10 days before my 40^th birthday who is now 4).

I am a biker. I grabbed a hold of the throttle after riding bitch for over 30 years with anyone who would let me. I won’t bitch again if I have the opportunity to ride. However, if that isn’t an option, I would always rather bitch, than cage.

I am  a writer and a survivor.

I am retired disabled with a “hidden” disability.

I am also a medical cannabis advocate. My only source of pain control at this time is cannabis. Just for reference, my pain level upon waking ranges from about a 5.8 (on GREAT days) to 8.5 on bad days. It averages 7.4 daily.

My disability: I experience chronic nerve pain in my pubic area, chronic pelvic pain &  a bladder condition called “interstitial cystitis”. I was prescribed Fentanyl (100x stronger than morphine) for over 7 years. I was informed by my physicians that I would never be able to completely cease using that particular pain medication or one similar.

Then, on my own,  I stopped it cold turkey in August of 2009.

In December of 2009, I was confronted by my own body failing me.. I began to loose my upper left peripheral vision. Then, it worsened in Spring of 2010, when my doctors informed me that I couldn’t have the tests that were my only hope of discovering the root of this illness taking my vision and the sensation on my left side, due to the implant that I have to control the interstitial cystitis. 

When I learned that I was loosing my vision, I decided that I needed to see more than just Washington State, where I have spent most of my life, save for living 9 months in Las Vegas in 1992. I have never visited most of the states in my own country. I have visited very little of Canada (a few day visits to Vancouver and Victoria, BC) and I have been in Mexico once as a teen for a few hours.

Last spring, after 21 years of marriage, I left my husband with only the clothes on my back.

Both God as well as the universe, have been attempting to make me aware that material things shouldn’t matter to me.

In 2005, the house I raised my children in was foreclosed upon while I was awaiting Social Security’s decision on my disability. 

Shortly thereafter, my husband failed to make the payment on our storage unit, and we lost all of our material memories save for a few photos we had been able to keep with us.

When I left my husband, he decided that I only deserved the possessions that he chose.

He even took possession of the pet house rabbit that I had purchased while I was separated from him in 2005.

A few weeks after I left, my ex had the Harley Low Rider that I had paid the majority of, and been the only person to ride for many months, repossessed.

He has the car, the house, the pet, the remaining bike, and all the items that he decided that he didn’t want.

I now have nothing to tie me down. Homeless by choice.

My children are grown, my grandchildren have excellent parents and are in great hands.

All I do is feel pain in my hometown. I have pretty much never seen anything except my home state save for a few short trips to neighboring areas.

Before I loose my vision; I want to see everything I can. I want to learn about other people in other areas, I want to see this beautiful world. I want to hear music from all around the world, beginning with different regions of the US.

I am doing this on the smallest of budgets. As I said, I have nothing. I do have a warm sleeping bag, some clothing and personal objects I require to live, and continue to document this journey around the world, as well as the journey into myself.

If I was to be honest about what this is, it is a journey to me, through exploring the world around me. 

Perhaps “Herriot the Spy” grows up and looks at the world around here, not just the people. I will be writing my life story, as well as a book about the people that I meet through the game “Pot Farm” on FaceBook.

I will be logging my travels as I visit my “Pot Farm” friends around the country, then hopefully around the world.

I welcome any and all feedback. Even though I may go through days and perhaps weeks, without posting much; please be patient, I may not have internet access or limited access for extended periods of time. I will continue to write even if it may have to be transcribed when I am able to return.

I am very much a hippie and I am trusting God and my inner intuition to guide me. I am only following my “gut instincts” to lead me where I need to go.

The current tentative plans are as such:

• My birthday (October 19^th), will be spent in the LA, California area with friends I most literally haven’t seen in 30 years. I hope also to meet and visit any “Pot Farm” friends in the southern Cali area during that time frame.
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• After I leave the LA area, I am being pulled towards the Bay area, as much of my family history is based in that are.
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•             Possibly after the Bay area: Eastern Oregon, Spokane, WA…. Then?????
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• On Christmas:  I will be in Utah with my wonderful friend who I refer to as my wife.
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• January: I hope to be in Florida visiting friends who have relocated to that area, as well as new friends I have acquired through “Pot Farm.”

ALL of these plans are completely fluid, tentative and conditional upon only my gut feelings.

At any point, I may be forced to return in order to assist my family.

For now, I am following God, my heart, my instincts… or just my crazy brain.