Stoned

I just finished reading an article in a July issue of The New Yorker magazine about the medical marijuana industry. Call me naive but I had no idea. I knew that people smoked pot for nausea (remember doing it myself after all-night college drinking) and for pain control with chemotherapy. I also remember reading somewhere that it could help those with epilepsy. I joked then that maybe I should start smoking and just blow it into Sophie's face. It might be because Sophie isn't doing so well right now, and when she isn't doing well I open my mind and my body and every thinking and reactive pore I have to being ready for SOMETHING NEW. Insight, a Eureka moment, hope never dies. You know the drill. I have a sort of half-assed belief in signs and a definite faith that the universe throws signs your way. I have always felt responsible for listening to and recognizing those signs. And I also have a sense of humor, remember?

Anyway, I was reading this article (and I just HAPPENED to pick this particular issue from the stack of issues that I haven't gotten to and just HAPPENED to open it to this particular story) and my mind began whirring. I wonder if these lenient laws in California are for minors as well? Probably not. But why couldn't I somehow find some of the medical marijuana and maybe try it with Sophie? I could bake some brownies or something? I could get some of my pot-smoking friends and we could all smoke it together and blow it in her face? Wouldn't it be weird if THAT WAS WHAT HELPED HER AND SHE QUIT HAVING SEIZURES? These were my thoughts as I simultaneously read the article, and I've been thinking about it all ever since. How different/bad could it possibly be than the 16 drugs that we've given Sophie over the years that haven't worked?

I've been waiting for something NEW, something to keep me going, something to sustain us. And help Sophie. We haven't tried this avenue and I'm wondering....
And if all else fails, Sophie is eighteen years old in only five years...