SMOKE 'EM IF YOU GOT 'EM

In the United States, eight patients get marijuana from the
government. Countless others go without, or risk arrest and prison for
using what was once federally approved medicine.

A heavy wind blowing off Storm Lake rattles a large window in Barbara
Douglass' home. She sits on the couch looking across the choppy water
while smoking a joint with her friend Elvy Musikka.

They're straining to see the windmills on the other side. Though clear
to others in the room, Barbara can see them only by squinting through
a pair of binoculars; Elvy, not at all.

Barbara has multiple sclerosis and Elvy has glaucoma, but both
consider themselves lucky. The women receive monthly shipments of
marijuana from the federal government to treat their conditions. A few
miles north, a friend of theirs suffers from MS, too, only without the
relief marijuana brings. He is bracing himself for life in a nursing
home.

Barbara and Elvy get the medicine through the Investigational New Drug
Program, established in 1978. It was canceled in 1992, though the 15
patients already in the program were permitted to keep receiving
medicine. Only eight are still alive.

Elvy's personal assistant grabs a copy of the 1950 World Book
Encyclopedia from Barbara's dining room. He opens it to the word
"marijuana" and reads aloud: "...while under the influence of marijuana,
users react by showing mild exhilaration and even resorting to violent
crimes, almost as if insane. It has no value in medicine."

Barbara and Elvy laugh and simultaneously draw on joints rolled by
Uncle Sam.

Pot laws vary from state to state. It's legal for medicinal use on the
West Coast, though the federal government has attempted to thwart the
effort. Medical marijuana legislation died a quick death in Iowa,
where it's a felony to give someone more than half an ounce.

But the federal government gives Barbara nine ounces every month,
pre-rolled into cigarettes.

Most patients who might benefit from the plant are lost in the
political rhetoric. The medical marijuana conference held last weekend
in Iowa City was partly an effort to correct that. Doctors, nurses,
academics, legalization advocates and politicians attended, but the
focus remained on patients.

I hope we made the impression that we wanted," Barbara says.
"Marijuana is good medicine."

The Reluctant Activist

Barbara spends most of her time at home. At 94 pounds, she's frail and
weak from MS. She rarely goes out, except during the summer to ride
her specially designed Jet Ski. She didn't set out to be a marijuana
spokeswoman, but that's what she's been for the last few weeks.

She's graced the covers of the Sioux City Journal and the Storm Lake
Pilot Tribune. She's been interviewed by the Daily Iowan and featured
in The Des Moines Register. She was the media darling of the
conference, happily speaking and posing for photos, even talking to a
Japanese television crew. She seems to enjoy the attention.

At home before the conference, she looks through the Sioux City
Journal for her picture. She giggles at the photo of her and her
poodle, Gucci, sifting on the couch.

"I look like such a happy little crip," she laughs.

She was diagnosed with MS in 1988 and approved for the program in
1990, the last of the 15 participants. She had never smoked pot and is
still unfamiliar with the smoker's lingo. The expression "spark it up"
is foreign to her; she calls her stash medicine; that's all she's ever
considered it.

I was a non-smoker and they said, 'Smoke this, you'll feel better.' I
said 'Yeah, right.'"

Ask her now and she'll tell you what the plant has done. It eases
muscle spasms and the strain on her eyes. It relieves her stress and
calms her down. Some would call that the high or buzz, a concept
Barbara doesn't understand.

"I don't go for high; I go for relief," Barbara says. "I'm not trying
to get a buzz; I'm taking medicine. Marijuana is medicine. It's good
medicine."

"It's a disease that rules your life if you let it. With MS, stress is
your enemy; that's the neurological part of the disease. Marijuana
relieves the pain, or makes it less severe. It makes it possible to
deal with the MS."

Though MS is a progressive disease, Barbara's condition has remained
relatively stable. Even her second dog Mochie seems to benefit from
the smoke in the room. She scoots around demanding attention and
jumping on furniture. At 17, she's more active than most dogs half her
age.

But Barbara is one of the lucky few. When the Investigational New Drug
Program ended, 34 patients were still waiting for their first shipment
of medicine.

Some say the program ended because too many people were a applying. The
government could not be touting the evils of drug use while writing
prescriptions for it. Some theorize the large number of applicants with AIDS
caused a homophobic program director to pull the plug.

Others say there was not enough evidence to justify the controversial
program. Barbara argues that she's living proof of the plant's
effectiveness.

"It's the reason I'm alive; I know that;" she says. "Marijuana gives
me the strength to get up and carry on."

"They said there wasn't enough proof that it could help and that's
what were trying to change."

"Nobody cares"

One reason Barbara wants the law changed is Ladd Huffman, who lives in
the small town of Calumet, about 35 miles northwest of Storm Lake.
Ladd also suffers from MS, but he's gong to jail for using the same
medicine the government gives to Barbara.

Barbara learned of the medical marijuana program through Ladd. Though
he was approved for the program, it was shut down before he received
any medicine.

Ladd was diagnosed with MS when he was 27. The year was 1978, and he
found that smoking pot offered relief.

"My health stayed stable for that 10 years," he says. "I could drive
and get out and do things."

But, Ladd was breaking the law by treating himself and was eventually
arrested. His lanky frame slouches in his wheelchair, but his eyes
light up indignantly as he recalls the day.

"I was busted for growing my own in 1990," he says, looking down at
the floor. "My neighbor turned me in."

His two daughters, 10 and 6 at the time, watched as he was taken to
jail.

"They didn't handcuff me 'cause I couldn't wheel my chair out
then."

He had been growing about 20 plants and was charged with cultivation.
He was given a one?year suspended sentence and two years of probation.

"It was such a hassle when I was busted," Ladd says, I almost lost my
marriage."

His wife, Marcia, left him for a few days, and for several months
afterward they held on to their marriage by a thread.

If he had not been forced to quit smoking, he believes his condition
would not have progressed as quickly as it has.

He's in a wheelchair all the time and can no longer drive. He needs
help getting in and out of bed and on and off the toilet. A nurse and
home assistant visit a few times a week.

If he could smoke marijuana, he would. Though some may be tempted to
light up despite the law, that's not an option for Ladd.

"I don't smoke because it was such a hassle when I got arrested, "he
says." If I did, I couldn't admit it. The cops would be at my back
door tomorrow. I don't know what to say. It's so unfair. I was there
for my country and they weren't there for me when I needed them."

Ladd was drafted into the Army in 1969 and later spent a year in
Vietnam.

He now takes a drug called Baclofen, which eases muscle spasms, but also
makes him feel weak and lethargic. "I had to increase my dosage when I
stopped smoking marijuana. I'd rather not use any more than I have to. "If
you quit taking Baclofen suddenly the withdrawal can cause hallucinations."

If Barbara and Elvy succeed in changing laws, Ladd would start smoking
again. "Definitely. I know it works" They wanted him to come to the
conference but he declined. His hope for change is fading.

His wife, Marcia, is not optimistic. She tells Barbara and Elvy
they're wasting their time. Her anger is directed at them, but it's
Ladd's situation that upsets her. It's difficult to see Barbara and
Elvy legally using the medicine her husband needs but can't have.

"You're fine and you get it sent to you, that's great," she says to
Barbara. "But it's illegal for him and he's about to go to a nursing
home."

She's resigned to the fact that nothing will change. Barbara and Elvy
offer encouragement. "We've come a long way," they tell her. "There's
good work being done; it's legal out West. This conference will help."

Still, nothing eases her mind.

"We've been waiting for too damn long and it's getting beyond the
point of no return," Marcia says. "Nobody cares if Ladd Huffman goes
to the nursing home tomorrow. I'm being realistic. It's going tohappen."

Ladd holds out some hope, but he's starting to agree with
Marcia.

"It won't be long. I have no reason to believe otherwise."

Fighting The Law And Winning

Elvy unrolls her cigarettes and re-rolls them herself. They come on
heavy paper and are filled with seeds and stems. These impurities are
less beneficial and irritate the throat.

When she's off the road and near an oven, she makes cookies or
"greenies" -brownies that are green because there is so much pot in
them. The effect of marijuana lasts longer when eaten, so she need not
smoke as much.

Elvy knows a lot about marijuana. She travels constantly, preaching
the word to whoever will listen.

She came here from Nebraska, and the week before, she attended the
Hash Bash in Ann Arbor, Mich. After the conference, she headed for
home in Florida.

Elvy talks a lot. In fact, she's rarely quiet. She's focused on
legalizing pot for both medicinal and casual use.

Whereas Barbara is an accidental activist, Elvy is a dedicated and
knowledgeable firebrand. She's listed in High Times magazine as one of
the leading legalization advocates in the country.

Elvy was arrested in 1988 and charged with cultivation and possession
of marijuana. She was acquitted on grounds of medical necessity and
approved for the government program later that year.

"In 1987, I went blind in my right eye," Elvy says. "I couldn't tell
if it was day or night. That was when I was treated conventionally
with everyone's approval."

"I believe the American people are compassionate. It's the politicians
that need to work on it."

Medical marijuana has been approved in seven states and Washington,
D.C. The issue has passed in every state in which the public was
allowed to decide.

"I should not have the right to choose my quality of life in the land
of the free?" Elvy asks. "My quality of life is more important than
the quantity I lived in hell for 12 years as an illegal medical
marijuana user."

Ladd Huffman understands well. The medicine he needs, deemed
appropriate 10 years ago, would now land him in jail. He feels cheated
by a government that sent him to war and now denies him basic medical
care.

Elvy and Barbara promise to help, but they understand what an uphill
battle this will be.

When they leave Ladd's home, Barbara leans on her cane and carefully
bends over to give him a hug.

"This conference will do something," she whispers in his
ear.

"I hope it does," he says. But by the look on his face, he's not
betting on it.