I hid in my bedroom the first time I used medical marijuana.

The first time I used my medical marijuana, I had my bedroom.

I didn’t want anyone to know that I was using medical marijuana, even if it was just a concentrate.

There was no odor, and nothing that would show I was using marijuana. I would not get high and ask silly, and I wouldn’t be pulling out bongs or vape pens for anyone to see. All I was doing was putting a few drops of marijuana concentrated underneath my tongue and holding it there for some odd seconds. I was thinking more of the stigma that is put on people who use marijuana, whether it is medical marijuana recreational marijuana. My daughter often teases me ‌I am going to become a pothead or a druggie now that I’m using medical marijuana. Even she doesn’t understand how painful moving has become for me. I would’ve thought that was she being in her 50s, that she would understand what I’m going through. Being nearly 80 is difficult on a person’s body. Asking a doctor if they could prescribe medical marijuana for me was difficult. I had to make a choice: if I wanted to live with extreme pain for the rest of my life and forget about medical marijuana helping me, or if I ignore her and choose medical marijuana. Last week, she came to the house to help me clean some cupboards. I was using my walker to help me move and my hands were gnarled to ‌where I could barely hold my coffee cup. She asked me why was I not using my medical marijuana, and I told her I didn’t want to lose her respect. She told me I was silly and took me to the marijuana dispensary to pick up my medical marijuana.


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