My husband told me the *coolest* story recently. He absolutely adored his Grandma, you see, but she passed away from stomach cancer many years ago, and he still feels the pain to this day.
He said that one time, he walked into their house to discover the strangest odor. Being a teenager of the 70's, of course he recognized the smell: the indisputable pungency of mary jane.
After walking around the house trying to figure out the source of the odor, he finally found both of his grandparents in the back bedroom, high as kites, giggling, eating and just having a wonderful time. Their droopy eyes and stoned faces were classic, he says!!
He started laughing, asked them what in the heck his 70 year old grandparents were DOING, to which his Grandpa answered, "Well, that there cancer doctor told us that your Grandma's tummy might feel better and she might eat better if we get us some of that there marijuana. So we went out and got some from one of your cousins!"
He says it's one of his fondest memories of them.
And I say, why does something that brings so much happiness to people who are dying have to be illegal?
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