MEDICAL-MARIJUANA RULES INSULTING

I was diagnosed with treatable but incurable brain cancer on March 2,
1998. My life changed that day in ways that no legislator,
health-division bureaucrat, doctor, lawyer, cop, friend, lover or
acquaintance can begin to understand.

Everything I do, every decision I make, every song I sing to my young
daughters, every moment of every day is now filtered through the haze
of this life-threatening disease. Death is no longer abstract, and
neither is life.

I have survived major brain surgery. I have endured 32 treatments of
radiation. I have struggled through six months of chemotherapy. I have
found relief from the nausea, fatigue, sleeplessness, depression, pain
and lack of appetite with the help of one primary drug: marijuana.

Now I'm told that I need to apply for a permit, pay $150 for a
registration card and be looking over my shoulder for the likes of
Rep. Kevin Mannix, R-Salem, and his merry band of morality police (May
1 article).

No thank you. There are enough indignities and losses involved in
having this disease without the state bureaucracy, police agencies and
the Legislature hounding me like I'm a criminal. [They should] go look
for real bad guys and leave the sick and dying alone.