Jake was an old time lawyer, took poultry and vegetables as pay sometimes in the old days. He was also deathly afraid of being buried alive since religious
tradition stated a natural burial. His wife had told me of his fears and said he always requested someone stick him with a pin to make sure. And NO HOSPITALS!
She passed a few summers ago after 65 years together leaving more of a depressive abyss for him to fall into. I was unsure as to why I entered his room while
he took his pre-evening nap, intuitively, not even on my shift. As I took his hand he sobbed an unfamiliar brief emotion from years of excelling in
professional detachment, another rule I definitely broke with this case. Then I knew for sure it was time. A short pause and the last gasp saying goodbye I
thanked Spirit for now he would not suffer anymore and was back with his wife as a dear friend reminded me, dancing with the angels. And for the privilege of
sharing those last moments telling my friend not to stay for us and to head to the light. He was totally relaxed, more so than a ganja Grateful Dead treatment
shaking those old bones in our stretching exorcises. Out of the wheelchair clasping my hands with a solid grip just a couple weeks ago, slowly moving muscles
in harmony. Actually tested by a Neurological Group a few years back. Ole Jer still hits the nerves with all generations. Dylan or Rock would get his hands
clasped over his ears, but not Ripple, Sunshine Daydream or Scarlet Begonia.
There was little doubt of his passing, with parkinson stiffening the muscles even in sleep. Not the peace I was witnessing. I was the primary private coordinator/live in home health aid surrogate family rep head cook and bottlewasher who easily found Love from and for this strong small man and his wife, and family from the beginning of our relationship. She, my hesitant yet curious 88 year old ganjamed/hemp student reading the many articles I would find at cannabis news or elsewhere on the net or books. Yet never quite sure what to do with it. When I would point out various cannabis items in her home she would smile, and raise her eyebrows quizzically almost unbelieving that her canvas painting could not be grown by American farmers or that burlap was a schedule #1 narcotic. She said who would be silly enough to smoke this? I said apparently its mostly Republicans but Democrats are just as guilty for possession, regardless of inhaling. Another raised eyebrow and a cute little chuckle.
She remembered cannabis tarps and gunny sacks and oakum and found cannabis tow of interest, being the prefix of towels. Though I reminded her the cotton today used 270,000 tons of chemicals and the polyfiber was the same crude oil companies she read in shadow of the swastika. The trees not replaced with hemp wood or paper can't reduce CO2 or produce oxygen and fresh water, dead. And interest in the medicinal/nutritional value of the seed and oil aiding the immune system over the red meat and chemical foods they both reduced after finally becoming politically correct to do so. Yep your Boy Scout tent and the rope that held it and the knapsack and canteen cover or the waterbags on covered wagons chilling it as they traveled. That fine linen not killing the soil as flax does or the burial cloth of hemp. The fuel that Diesel made doesn't fund terrorists or paramilitary governments. The car body of hemp doesn't strip mine down mountains or smog the air with hydrocarbon plastic and fiberglass pollutants . And as I might not have expected, she didn't just patronize me or the info. It was interesting.
The steps were lade out in advance by his doctor. Though in this instance all seemed relatively routine (another INE!) hospice wise, as he took his handful of pills with his juice and ate his usual average size regular breakfast. Typically with his attempt at portraying someone without his multiple conditions, very well I might add. It was all set up. I would call the doctor and he would start the process, the office said he was out but they would notify him immediately, and as they felt guilty charging him years ago for mostly social small talk visits and only medically were really surprised at each new birthday, assured me he would take care of it from here out, okfine...
I had a good repour with his doctors and would report of ganja helping him sleep and removing the mind cobwebs of catnapping around the clock or by preventing the chemically induced nightmares or restless dreams. Or dry up drool and phlegm common with meds and parkinson and increase liquids and appetite and gawd forbid how it shook the stick at depression. With that dreaded heathern euphoria responsible for 735,000 new criminals last year. The hypocrisy of fast tracking delta 9 marinol soaked in sesame oil without the results of mother nature. It wasn't missed by this patient either. Who do they think they're kidding? Glaucoma Asthma all helped without one adverse reaction from the thousands of combinations of possible adverse reactions with pharmaids or booze. Using the same oil extractums or milk fat with the raw ganja getting results their snake oils and elixirs don't and some that even cause damage. Usually in most places without ganjamed initiatives the standard AMA diagnosis is then to try something else. Always some new pharmaid to test. Anything but ganja!
All was S.O.P. as any D.N.R. option can be, then a phone call. It was 911 saying they were sending paramedics and the fire dept. I said why. Then a knock on the door. A slew of uniforms and the next thing I know is the machines hooked up and the monitor flat lined and the pronouncement of D.O.A. I knew then it was Jake's last song, with the carnival of rescue squad lights and hoopla gathering all of the neighbors for a fond farethewell and assurance he wasn't just in a coma.
As I said, I assumed it would be a simple process all along after giving directions to the Mortician before all this 911 fluxom, I assumed he would pick him up and that'd be it. It was apparently the Mortician who called 911 when he couldn't reach the doctor for confirmation. But as far as I knew it was what I had experienced on past cases and no reason not to burn one in the meantime. So needless to say I was in a somber Cali coast homegrown buzzing mood from the gitgo. Now the cops and the coroner want to talk to me and make sure I'm not a Kovorkean follower. Said they were going to test the bodily fluids and I said well in that case...He was a cannabis patient. Though usually only occasionally before bedtime and that he had none since the previous night before last, providing a restful sleep.
I told them I was solely responsible, though with 3 doctors giving me verbal authorization and the families ok, not to mention the patients ok the past half dozen years. I knew I was at least morally right in giving it to him as I have helped patients find it for over 20 years. And using it personally over 30 years I know my past few years of a 24/7 responsibility wasn't anti motivation or the other Nihas theatrical symptoms with fascist lies attached. To my surprise the coroner said no problem. Took the parkinson meds and other pharmaids and never even mentioned the left over ganja which I properly and personally, even if unprofessionally disposed of in memory and thanks of knowing such a fine human being and open minded friend who will be sorely missed in this dysfunction junction we all call home.
Then I started asking this Quincy about the war on drugs and cannabis. Getting the typical wod junkie replies I verbally pounced
on that poor dude like white on rice. Scolding him for perpetuating this war on sick and dying people as he inched his way out the door and backwards down the
sidewalk towards his car. Realizing, awkwardly that his back up cops had already escaped. I raised my voice that a kid could be a gateway to stolen tv sets the
same as his rhetoric of seeing 3rd graders on heroin starting on pot. Bushit! Every other common reefer mad utterance was shot down in flames as I could feel I
had some kind of authority over this so called public servant. It was called truth.
The thought had to cross his mind of his "duty" to drag a 90 year old dying patient to prison for bypassing the pharmaids to treat side effects of the heavy duties. Especially the Rox Cocktails and dope em up and strap em down techniques of the typical Unkle Bushit dying warehouses left as options to the working class over the usually unaffordable agency+tax cost of living it out at home. phwheeeew! I believe Jake was smiling down cheering me on. Then it was finally over...again. I then turned and fired up a joint in his memory, not caring if Rudy and his entire haggle of Rough Riders dragged me off to the cages. As another episode of Cannabis Caregivers winds down I have once again had the privilege of sharing cannabis and witnessing life's much better than tv comedies and dramas and the "healing by re-leaf" and bonified credibility to assure me the fight for total cannabis freedom is a righteous one...
Cannabis Peace, Love and Liberty or the Merchants of D.E.A.th!
DdC
Senior Home Care
Cannabis Caregivers
Ganjameds FARMaceuticals & Extractums
There was little doubt of his passing, with parkinson stiffening the muscles even in sleep. Not the peace I was witnessing. I was the primary private coordinator/live in home health aid surrogate family rep head cook and bottlewasher who easily found Love from and for this strong small man and his wife, and family from the beginning of our relationship. She, my hesitant yet curious 88 year old ganjamed/hemp student reading the many articles I would find at cannabis news or elsewhere on the net or books. Yet never quite sure what to do with it. When I would point out various cannabis items in her home she would smile, and raise her eyebrows quizzically almost unbelieving that her canvas painting could not be grown by American farmers or that burlap was a schedule #1 narcotic. She said who would be silly enough to smoke this? I said apparently its mostly Republicans but Democrats are just as guilty for possession, regardless of inhaling. Another raised eyebrow and a cute little chuckle.
She remembered cannabis tarps and gunny sacks and oakum and found cannabis tow of interest, being the prefix of towels. Though I reminded her the cotton today used 270,000 tons of chemicals and the polyfiber was the same crude oil companies she read in shadow of the swastika. The trees not replaced with hemp wood or paper can't reduce CO2 or produce oxygen and fresh water, dead. And interest in the medicinal/nutritional value of the seed and oil aiding the immune system over the red meat and chemical foods they both reduced after finally becoming politically correct to do so. Yep your Boy Scout tent and the rope that held it and the knapsack and canteen cover or the waterbags on covered wagons chilling it as they traveled. That fine linen not killing the soil as flax does or the burial cloth of hemp. The fuel that Diesel made doesn't fund terrorists or paramilitary governments. The car body of hemp doesn't strip mine down mountains or smog the air with hydrocarbon plastic and fiberglass pollutants . And as I might not have expected, she didn't just patronize me or the info. It was interesting.
The steps were lade out in advance by his doctor. Though in this instance all seemed relatively routine (another INE!) hospice wise, as he took his handful of pills with his juice and ate his usual average size regular breakfast. Typically with his attempt at portraying someone without his multiple conditions, very well I might add. It was all set up. I would call the doctor and he would start the process, the office said he was out but they would notify him immediately, and as they felt guilty charging him years ago for mostly social small talk visits and only medically were really surprised at each new birthday, assured me he would take care of it from here out, okfine...
I had a good repour with his doctors and would report of ganja helping him sleep and removing the mind cobwebs of catnapping around the clock or by preventing the chemically induced nightmares or restless dreams. Or dry up drool and phlegm common with meds and parkinson and increase liquids and appetite and gawd forbid how it shook the stick at depression. With that dreaded heathern euphoria responsible for 735,000 new criminals last year. The hypocrisy of fast tracking delta 9 marinol soaked in sesame oil without the results of mother nature. It wasn't missed by this patient either. Who do they think they're kidding? Glaucoma Asthma all helped without one adverse reaction from the thousands of combinations of possible adverse reactions with pharmaids or booze. Using the same oil extractums or milk fat with the raw ganja getting results their snake oils and elixirs don't and some that even cause damage. Usually in most places without ganjamed initiatives the standard AMA diagnosis is then to try something else. Always some new pharmaid to test. Anything but ganja!
All was S.O.P. as any D.N.R. option can be, then a phone call. It was 911 saying they were sending paramedics and the fire dept. I said why. Then a knock on the door. A slew of uniforms and the next thing I know is the machines hooked up and the monitor flat lined and the pronouncement of D.O.A. I knew then it was Jake's last song, with the carnival of rescue squad lights and hoopla gathering all of the neighbors for a fond farethewell and assurance he wasn't just in a coma.
As I said, I assumed it would be a simple process all along after giving directions to the Mortician before all this 911 fluxom, I assumed he would pick him up and that'd be it. It was apparently the Mortician who called 911 when he couldn't reach the doctor for confirmation. But as far as I knew it was what I had experienced on past cases and no reason not to burn one in the meantime. So needless to say I was in a somber Cali coast homegrown buzzing mood from the gitgo. Now the cops and the coroner want to talk to me and make sure I'm not a Kovorkean follower. Said they were going to test the bodily fluids and I said well in that case...He was a cannabis patient. Though usually only occasionally before bedtime and that he had none since the previous night before last, providing a restful sleep.
I told them I was solely responsible, though with 3 doctors giving me verbal authorization and the families ok, not to mention the patients ok the past half dozen years. I knew I was at least morally right in giving it to him as I have helped patients find it for over 20 years. And using it personally over 30 years I know my past few years of a 24/7 responsibility wasn't anti motivation or the other Nihas theatrical symptoms with fascist lies attached. To my surprise the coroner said no problem. Took the parkinson meds and other pharmaids and never even mentioned the left over ganja which I properly and personally, even if unprofessionally disposed of in memory and thanks of knowing such a fine human being and open minded friend who will be sorely missed in this dysfunction junction we all call home.
Then I started asking this Quincy about the war on drugs and cannabis. Getting the typical wod junkie replies I verbally pounced
on that poor dude like white on rice. Scolding him for perpetuating this war on sick and dying people as he inched his way out the door and backwards down the
sidewalk towards his car. Realizing, awkwardly that his back up cops had already escaped. I raised my voice that a kid could be a gateway to stolen tv sets the
same as his rhetoric of seeing 3rd graders on heroin starting on pot. Bushit! Every other common reefer mad utterance was shot down in flames as I could feel I
had some kind of authority over this so called public servant. It was called truth.
The thought had to cross his mind of his "duty" to drag a 90 year old dying patient to prison for bypassing the pharmaids to treat side effects of the heavy duties. Especially the Rox Cocktails and dope em up and strap em down techniques of the typical Unkle Bushit dying warehouses left as options to the working class over the usually unaffordable agency+tax cost of living it out at home. phwheeeew! I believe Jake was smiling down cheering me on. Then it was finally over...again. I then turned and fired up a joint in his memory, not caring if Rudy and his entire haggle of Rough Riders dragged me off to the cages. As another episode of Cannabis Caregivers winds down I have once again had the privilege of sharing cannabis and witnessing life's much better than tv comedies and dramas and the "healing by re-leaf" and bonified credibility to assure me the fight for total cannabis freedom is a righteous one...
Cannabis Peace, Love and Liberty or the Merchants of D.E.A.th!
DdC
Senior Home Care
Cannabis Caregivers
Ganjameds FARMaceuticals & Extractums
