Allow cannabis for cancer patients
Staring at six untouched bottles of pills in my medicine cabinet, I’m filled with guilt. The memory of why I was prescribed these medications creeps back in my mind, and indignation sets in when I remember why they are all still full and the risks taken to make that happen. At 38, I was diagnosed with stage 3B ovarian cancer. A painful, grueling battle awaited me — one that I knew all too well because this was not my first experience with cancer. At 26, I had stage 1B breast cancer. At 36, I had stage 3B ovarian cancer. Two years later, I faced cancer once again.
It wasn’t a terminal diagnosis — and one that, just like my prior experiences, I intended to battle and survive, but that doesn’t minimize the harshness of chemotherapy, the pain from surgery or the extreme discomfort from radiation. Surviving doesn’t alleviate the physical toll a body endures or negate the mental and emotional trauma a person experiences from receiving a cancer diagnosis, which, in my case, was amplified by losing my ability to bear children.
My first thought was “I can’t go through the healing process again,” as it involved piles of pharmaceuticals with a barrage of side effects from constipation to delirium. I loathed the after-treatment process almost as much as the disease itself.
Fearing these compounding issues, I researched medical marijuana and if it were available as an alternative to my prescriptions. I was disappointed to find that Texas has one of the country’s most restrictive medical marijuana markets. At the time, only intractable epilepsy patients qualified for the state’s compassionate use program.
How was I not deserving enough? Why was I being denied the right to decide with my medical team if medicinal marijuana could be a part of my care plan?
I resigned that I would face the archaic posttreatment plan that had been so difficult before, but as I began the daunting task of informing family and friends of my diagnosis, something profound and selfless happened: My loved ones — who intimately knew my story and suffering — offered to get marijuana for me.
This meant they either had to travel to another state and bring it back to Texas or have someone in another state mail it to them — both federal law violations. These were respected professionals with families who were willing to risk their livelihoods for me. I was humbled and conflicted. Was it selfish to want a better cancer experience? Why were we resorted to becoming “criminals” by
obtaining a medically validated solution? I reluctantly accepted.
Medical cannabis drastically reduced my symptoms: No more nausea, loss of appetite, mild fatigue, mitigated pain, irregular bowel movements. I could focus on and finish writing projects I started before my diagnosis, and my depression waned.
Now, three years later, the pharmaceutical drugs I hoped never to take again remain in my medicine cabinet — unused.
My story is a testament to how cannabis therapy can drastically improve a cancer patient’s healing process and be used as a legitimate and effective post-treatment plan. Unfortunately, it is also a testament to how outdated and troublesome Texas’ medical cannabis laws are.
I was a type of medical refugee in Texas, forced to get life-changing medicine from another state.
Cancer patients deserve the dignity and freedom to make care plans that work for them with their doctors. They should not have to face criminal charges for exploring a researched and proven medication that is legal in 37 states. They should not have to be in hospice care to be granted compassionate use by state leaders in Austin.
This year, lawmakers have the opportunity to prevent some of Texas’ sickest patients from a health dilemma. It’s time for Texas to take an overdue step forward and allow legal access to medical marijuana for all cancer patients.