My Story

Way back in the mid-1990s I was working for Boss Internet group out of Pasco WA as a systems administrator and network admin. My boss and I had to drive to Seattle to the Westin building to repair a server that had a hard drive that was going bad. My boss, who was 21 at the time, decided that because he had studded snow tires he could do over 75 miles an hour through Snoqualmie Pass in the middle of February during an ice storm. Needless to say he wrecked the car, I was seriously injured (“sprained back” that turned out to be a rupture), and he was perfectly fine. I ended up having back surgery at L4-L5-S1. The doctors fused the entire area was splinters from my pelvis and installed two 10 inch long 3/8 inch thick titanium rods that were held in place with six titanium swivel bolt's. On top of this the doctors implanted in intrathecal pump to deliver a morphine /Bubivicaine (an anesthetic ) mix directly into my spinal sac. They have also implanted in electronic stimulus device that sent electrical pulses, working on the gate theory, to my lower back. On top of all this I was on a combination of Fentanil (300mgs), morphine IR (both liquid and pills) (200mgs), and medicine to wake up, medicine to go to sleep, for depression, neuropathic pain, inflammation, and all the side effects caused by the above medications (about 14 medications if I remember correctly). After the first surgery I was getting better and had been released by my doctor to be able to drive. I had dropped my (ex)wife off at the Bon Marche (her job ) and was pulling through the parking lot when two teenage girls that were parked on the far side of the suburban decided they could stomp on the gas pedal to back out of their spot without being able to see. They ended up tagging the right front corner of my car, put the car up onto two wheels, and broke two of the six titanium swivel bolts in my lower back. This necessitated three (more) lower back surgeries and is also the point at which the serious neuropathic pain down both legs began. I had to have three more back surgeries, one of which went through the front and the other two through the rear to enclose my lower spine in titanium cages and to replace the two broken bolts. Then about seven months later I had been released to drive again and ended up getting T-boned on my motorcycle (76 year old man pulled right out in front of me). This required several more back surgeries and 17 surgeries on my left leg including many skin grafts. It was about this point that the doctors said they had done everything they could and that I would be on high doses of opioid painkillers for the rest of my life which was going to be severely shortened due to my injuries and the medications required to treat them. About the time 1999 rolled around I could no longer tolerate the constant pain, nerve pain (yes they are two very different types of pain), constipation, depression, nausea and vomiting and no appetite at all (I had lost about 80LBS at this point) not to mention all of the side effects of the “medications” (I have kidney and liver damage from my “medicines”). I wrote letters to all my friends and family members and updated my will and purchased a gun to quickly dispatch myself once I was finished. It was at this time, when I was finishing up my letters, that I received an e-mail from an anonymous sender about cannabis and pain (To this date I do not know who sent this e-mail to me but it truly saved my life so thank you if your reading this). I decided I had nothing to lose and went out and procured a small amount of cannabis to see if it would help my medical issues. Within the first 30 seconds the nausea and spasms stopped and within two minutes the neuropathic pain down both legs, which nothing the doctors tried helped, dissipated into the ether. I became a legitimate cannabis patient in the state at that time and had a heckuva time trying to find safe, affordable access to my medicine. I was unable to do so. My only option at this point was to start growing my own (I could not afford to purchase it) which I did, six plants in my closet. I ended up having a battery for a remote control plane burn up inside my apartment which caused a whole bunch of smoke and I had to call the fire department. They came out and took care of the job and reported to the police officers that I had cannabis growing in my closet (they are required to do so and they apologized for having to do it). I gave the officers a copy of my recommendation along with the phone number for my doctor so they could verify that I was a legitimate patient. At this time WA State had no limits on the amount of cannabis a patient could have and I only had six plants that were about 3 foot tall growing in a very small space (my st grow and it was an exercise in futility). The police actually did what they were supposed to, they took a sample and left me with my medicine. This all happened on a Saturday and by Sunday morning I had the entire narcotics squad breaking down my door. They took my six plants, copies of my recommendation and left me with nothing. I spoke with the lead officer and explain to him that they were taking the only medicine that helped me deal with the pain and be able to eat and that I could not afford to buy it which is why I had to grow it which was allowed under Washington state law at that time. Of course, as you can imagine, I received all the same BS from the police officers saying that there's no such thing as medical cannabis and that I would have to fight it in court. Once all the officers had cleared out and left my place in a complete disaster I noticed that one of the containers that had some medicine in it that had been confiscated was sitting on my chair on my front porch. In other words one of the officers took it upon himself (or herself) to ensure that I at least had some medication which truly was a blessing. One of the side effects of this whole situation was I lost my apartment as it was federally subsidized. I was still in a back brace having a very difficult time moving around and the management of McMurray Park Apartments gave me three days to move out. I had no family here and no friends as I rarely ever got out of the house. My lawyer knew the owner of the building and was able to convince him to give me enough time, a whole seven days, to be able to move out. These are the circumstances that turned me from a patient just struggling to stay alive into a patient struggling to stay alive and a medical cannabis activist. I immediately started the three Rivers collective and started helping other patients in the same circumstances as myself so that they would not have to make the same mistakes I made and would be able to get access to their medication much sooner than they would have been able to without the help. We approached the Benton County prosecutor, Andy Miller, as well as the Richland Mayor, police chief Corsi and the city Council to develop some sort of system that would work within the rules we currently had at that time so that patients would be able to access their medicine safely and locally. The day after the city Council meeting was when the harassment from the city of Richland police started. I could not go anywhere without an escort, sometimes a standard Richland police car but others were unmarked police cars. They pulled me over a number of times in my own driveway of my own home to tell me my license tabs had expired and it took six police cars and almost 10 officers to do this. The Department of licensing promptly scheduled me for a series of three or four driving tests when I had just two months prior renewed my license and passed my test. I was informed that I had to come under the influence to take my test to prove that my driving was not going to be effected (all unofficially of course). I spent six months from the day I was busted calling the Benton County prosecutor, Andy Miller, every day telling him they were being inhumane criminals for stealing my medication and destroying my apartment and getting me kicked out. After six months of pestering the prosecutor every single day I received a call from the Richland Police Department asking me to come down and pick up my property. I promptly drove down to the Richland Police Department and went in the front door to announce myself. After about 20 or 30 minutes several officers rolled out a cart that was loaded with bags of cannabis, growing supplies, light's, fans, etc. and was told that I could take it. I told them that that was not possible because I couldn't load this as I was disabled with severe back pain and that since they took it they were going to have to loaded it into my vehicle. It sure was a good day watching the Richland Police Department officers loading cannabis and cannabis growing supplies into my car from the front of the police department along George Washington Way. Since this time we have tried working with the city we have tried to get a meeting with the Benton County prosecutor Andy Miller (its his interpretation that is subverting patient access locally) and they have all blatantly lied to us, misled us, and downright refused to even talk with us or return our phone calls. So I went from a productive member of society to one of the most severely injured and then became a criminal because our local officials don't agree with cannabis being medication regardless of what the voters of Washington state decided back in 1998. This is a short version of my last 15 years or so as I don’t think I could accurately write down in detail what’s happened as so much has happened. If you would like to see what we have done since this time and where we are headed please feel free to stop by at www.4-20.org or http://www.meetup.com/TRC-Medical-Cannabis-bill/.