Why I Let My Son Smoke Pot

The evil weed?

When my son was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at age 14, I didn’t know anything about it, or the life sentence he had been handed. I knew he was sick. And in pain. I won’t go into the specifics. But it hurts every time he eats.

Just imagine almost every trip to the bathroom ending badly; now multiply that times ten.

I don’t think it really hit me until the day I signed the papers so he could drop out of high school. It wasn’t because I wanted him to… but he had struggled so long and hard to keep up, I couldn’t make him do it anymore. He had been going to school hungry when he could, so he wouldn’t hurt all day.

I think my husband silently disapproved. I know his family did. They don’t understand sickness, pain or disability. They have no compassion at all.

But I felt like a diploma was just a piece of paper, one that he could easily substitute with a GED. I just felt it was better to concentrate on him being alive and healthy. And I just hoped the rest of it would fall into place, somehow. I was playing the hand life had dealt us.

The prescription drugs that my son took off and on since his diagnosis never really seemed to help in light of all the side effects. He took pills and IV infusions that did everything from causing weight gain and bad skin to giving him cluster headaches. Nothing helped, except surgery.

I decided to let him try marijuana.

I remember doing a little research and feeling stupid for not trying it sooner. I knew it helped nausea. I had no idea how much it would help the symptoms of Crohn’s.

Of course, there is no cure and my son has a very bland diet, one so dull I’m sure he wants to claw his eyes out. Before his diagnosis he had talked about being a chef, but he never mentions it now. The death of that dream makes me want to cry, but somehow my son is more brave than I ever could be.

I don’t know how he handles it. He has a zen-like acceptance that I could never achieve. I have always turned to laughter when I was at my lowest, and I can tell that he has picked up the one good trait I have. We laugh a lot. But there is always pain underneath… different for us both, I know. But we take it one joke, one meal, one hug, one day at a time.

I think most people would say I am a good mother. But no one around me understands what it is like to watch your child suffer. I have family members and people I know that look down on medical marijuana. They look at me as if I am crazy because my son has permission to use it.

But none of those people have bothered to educate themselves about Crohn’s disease, so why would their opinion mean anything to me? The only thing that matters is my son getting through his next meal…. When your life has been whittled away to one thing – avoiding pain, arguments with ignorant people are simply not a priority. 

If pot helps him feel better, good. If it eases the pain or nausea, then thank God. And if he gets high, so be it. That is the worst side effect he has to worry about. And if we lived somewhere else, he would have a prescription.

The people who point fingers would not last a day in his shoes.