by Donna Shreve
The pain was constant and deep. My energy ebbed between low and none existent. However, I was determined to continue activities that I had enjoyed in the past. I was going to Arizona for Spring Training and meeting my oldest son and brother there. To protect myself from other people’s germs I wore a surgical mask. Try it sometime if you want people to give you a wide berth. I have never felt so invisible.
With my weak bravado, I headed off to my first game with son and brother. One of the warnings given to me by my doctor was to stay out of the sun during chemo treatments. After half an hour at our first game in the sun, I had to call my sister to come pick me up. I now knew why you needed to stay out of the sun even with a hat and protective gear. I spent the rest of that day in a back room recovering.
My brother Brian informed me the next day that we would leave for the second game an hour early. I didn’t question the time difference and was more concerned with how to sit out of the sun and last the entire game. Off the three of us went and I did notice that Aaron, my son, was more excited today than yesterday. My brother Brian had rented a Prius and we busied ourselves discussing the merits or demerits of the then semi-new brand.
When we drove past the ballpark, I questioned where we were going. Aaron started to laugh. Brian remained calm and said I would find out soon enough. He found a quiet suburban street and parked the car after looking all around. I looked around also to get some clues. There were few cars and no one about, which was just what Brian was trying to find.
Brian revealed a small package from his pocket and now Aaron was giggling. Brian had just pulled out a funny looking cigarette or better known as a joint. What! Brian explained that smoking the joint would make it much easier for me to enjoy the game. I was with two people I loved and trusted and I felt safe with them. I did not want to repeat my experience of the previous day, so what the hell!
Brian lit the joint and handed it to me. I stared at it not knowing how to begin. Brian saw my confusion and told me to smoke it as I would a cigarette. Aaron really laughed then and said I didn’t even know how to do that. Brian then took me through the process, step by step. In a short period of time, the three of us had smoked both joints. Veterans Aaron and Brian were thrilled to be there with me as I had my first smoke.
Off we walked to the game. I was not sure what to expect as I had heard many tales of various reactions. The main thing I felt was a relaxed feeling. I did not get a big case of munchies or giggles. I just calmly enjoyed watching the entire game, out of the sun. I was actually free of pain and felt normal.
Behind the scenes I found out that both of my boys and my brother had been plotting on how to get me some relief from my condition. Brad, my youngest, called his brother Aaron and said if he could tell me he was gay, Aaron could tell me he could supply me with joints. My brother has a medical card and even grows it.
The next time Aaron visited, I suggested we go up to the sun deck and chat. It was our code I wanted to share a joint. My husband doesn’t even drink alcohol so smoking grass was out of the question. I had made my own rule to try to not smoke alone. It was best at this point that John be left out of the loop as he would have strong objections and I just didn’t have the energy to discuss it with him.
Both boys were here for my last treatment. They were very supportive and it meant a lot to me. My treatments took all day and Brad had to leave to return to his home. That left Aaron and he announced to me at the treatment infusion center that he was having a talk with his father. I should not have to hide my relief treatment any longer. John was anti-drugs and quipped that marijuana was a gateway to instant shooting up with heroin. It helps to understand John’s sense of humor. Aaron was successful chatting with his father and Aaron and I continued our sessions on the sun deck without John.
Aaron’s wife took a picture of the two of us on the sun deck. I was wearing a turban on my head. It was the most comfortable cover on my baldhead. As I reclined on the lounge chair, I took another hit from our shared joint. I reminded my younger son of Gloria Swanson ready for her close up. He was sent the picture and loved it.
This incident was recalled after Aaron recently sent me a video of three grandmothers smoking pot for the first time. They were filmed over a period of an hour with comic results. I guess innocence at older age is humorous and video worthy. In my defense, I was not officially a grandmother when I had my first smoke. I have not smoked since my treatments and don’t plan to. However, I totally understand some people’s use of this controversial drug.
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