Category Archives: Healing


img_1305This really is the number of meds that are keeping me breathing right now.


Okay, readers, here’s the dope.
Though desolation might reach and grope,
put in my path those bars of soap,
in depressed times, provide the rope,
I choose instead to fight and cope.
I refuse to be a misanthrope.
I really have no cause to mope,
for as long as there is breath, there’s hope.

Background info that I couldn’t fit in without really stretching it to fit in my remaining rhyme words of “ope, lope, Pope and taupe,” is that last night I was taken by ambulance for a night’s stay in the emergency room of the local Green Cross. I started having asthma attacks in the afternoon and by evening I just couldn’t breathe even with the inhalers.  None of my friends were home so finally I called a close neighbor who luckily had a sister who is both an asthma victim and a nurse. She got me calmed down and breathing through the inhaler and they went back home to have dinner, saying they’d come back to stay with me afterwards.  I tried to call a few more friends, but again, none were home, and I had another attack.  Luckily, the phone rang and it was Chris seeing how I was.  I could just gasp “Help!”  They were there in two minutes, called an ambulance, and since they could not get me to breathe without the oxygen, they took me to the hospital for the night.  Twelve hours of oxygen later, plus visits by two doctors, an injection and 5 more bottles of medicine, I’m back home with an oxygen machine I bought, looking for a portable one that doesn’t cost $5,000—what they cost here in Mexico— or $3500—what the model I’d like costs in the states. Never have I been so thankful for the breath of life!

The prompt today is mope.

Craig’s List Confessional

Earlier today, I published a poem and at the end, left a pile of unused words that were free for the taking.  Christine Goodnough rifled through them and came up with this poem, then left a free-for-the-taking list of unused words of her own, leaving a link to my refuse pile as well.  I have dipped into each bunch of words again and used them all in the below poem, with the exception of the few left at the end that I pass on to any reader willing to make use of them in a poem.  You’ll find our combined leftovers at the end of my poem and a link to to Christine’s poem above

 Craig’s  List Confessional

I’d like a mirror so I can see
if I display felicity
when someone whispers in my ear
the name of one I once held dear.

I know not what my heart may feel,
what passions I might dare repeal
now that my head is ruling me
instead of love for somebody

so long departed––no longer here
for so many a long-lost year.
If I could paint a picture of
the countenance of long-lost love

in monotone or multi-tones,
in stereo or  monophones,
I hesitate to admit that
I fear the portrait might fall flat.

How often it has been  my ploy
to act withdrawn or bored or coy,
as though the long-lapsed love I bore
is what steers my grieving core.

But, in truth, duplicity
is what in all simplicity
guides my actions and my thought
and turns me into love’s robot.

With paint cans colored various hues,
why do I always choose the blues,
rebuffing each potential woo
and dropping out of courtship’s queue?

And so, if love is not a ruse––
a mere excuse for whom to choose,
I stand here gawking, open wide,
with no place left in which to hide.

Respectability’s passe,
and pride too dear a price to pay;
for staying safe in grief’s tight room
is burial before the tomb.

And so my dear, this poem you view?
Pretend that it’s addressed to you
and join me in complicity.
Perhaps shared words can set us free.

I’m not a girl.  You are no boy.
This poem is not a word-stuffed toy.
Should you respond with words that match,
it’s possible that we will catch

another chance to reach and choose
and maybe this time we won’t lose
the golden ring that does not bind.
This time we may find love is kind!

Okay, I dug deeply into Christine’s leftovers and rifled through mine as well.  This is what is left in the poetic grab bag.  Can anyone make use of the rest of our cast-offs?  Here is what is left to you: 

ooze booze cruise who’s whose choose lose  news pews poos cues sues twos  woos youse 
doozie floozie twozie boo  goo hue loo moo new poo   sue soo sioux too to you  What a spectacle! not respectable  


Mary Jane Revisits the Boomers: Marijuana and Your Health

It has been almost a year since I reblogged this article about research concerning the tumor-shrinking qualities of marijuana:

I had actually forgotten this article until today’s “health” prompt led me to search my own blog.  Then, after rereading it, two other recent conversations sprung to mind.  One was a friend who is experiencing chronic pain.  I saw him recently and he told me of his success in using marijuana oil suppositories in place of the strong pain medication he has been forced to use just to function for the past ten years.  He shared with me this  article which deals with the medical uses of marijuana oil for a number of medical conditions including cancer.

Here is an excerpt from this long and detailed article: When a person smokes a joint, over 90% of the medicinal aspects of the plant material just went up in smoke. It’s ironic for me to see patients who have taken chemotherapy smoking hemp to reduce their nausea, for they are smoking the very substance which, if taken properly, could cure them. To me, there is little or no comparison between smoking cannabis and ingesting the essential oil from this plant to treat a medical condition. If you are simply seeking a little relief from your condition, smoking cannabis may be of some benefit. But if you want to treat the condition properly, ingesting the oil is the best way to accomplish this. There is no question that even smoking cannabis does have some medicinal benefits, but don’t expect to cure a serious condition in this manner.”

William Randolph Hearst is often credited with being the main agent in the vilification of marijuana, but in his  weekly science podcast, Skeptoid, Brian Dunning addressed the facts and myths surrounding the topic of the vilification of hemp in the U.S.:

California had banned non-prescription cannabis in 1913 as part of a campaign against drugs that was largely anti-Chinese; New York City in 1914; Texas in 1915. Enforcement was almost entirely against Mexican and black communities. . . . .Hearst’s newspapers absolutely did sensationalize and exaggerate marijuana crimes and the dangers of the drug, but so did virtually all publications of the day. Anslinger’s Federal Bureau of Narcotics pumped a constant stream of hysterical press releases to satiate the media, blaming murders on single reefer doses of the drug, and all sorts of crazy amplifications. A 1936 church film called Tell Your Children was massively promoted nationwide and remade by Hollywood as the 1938 Reefer Madness, a cautionary tale designed to show the horrific results of marijuana. By the time the Marihuana Tax Act was passed, the United States population was well primed to view cannabis as the deadly symbol of the criminal immigrant class. . . . Cannabis hardly needed a conspiracy of Hearst and DuPont to put it out of business by the 1930s. It had already been doomed to extinction by racism, class warfare, and a complicit government and media to feed them. Though we often tend to look toward the rich and powerful to point the blame for society’s missteps, oftentimes the true root of the problem is uncomfortably in our own back yards.”  (You can read transcripts of the rest of his podcast here:

Due to this vilification of hemp, many of its traditional and utilitarian benefits were hidden from widespread public view, but need is a great educator and as more and more of those in the boomer generation experience the debilitating effects of arthritis, hip and knee replacement, glaucoma, spinal injuries, diabetes and cancer,  people I would not have expected to laud the curative and palliative qualities of marijuana have begun to do so.

It was news of an acquaintance who cured his pancreatic cancer in a matter of months that has given me additional cause  to share the two articles above.  My husband died in three weeks of pancreatic cancer that was detected at the same stage as the cancer of this man, who started to use marijuana oil to treat his cancer.  According to a mutual friend, within four months, there were no more signs of cancer. (I have been meaning to interview this man and if there is sufficient interest shown, I will do so.  Let me know in “Comments” if you’d like to hear more on this topic.)

Now that 24 states and the District of Columbia  have laws legalizing marijuana in some form and four states and the District of Columbia have legalized marijuana for recreational use, the cloud that has hovered over it for over fifty years has begun to lift. The internet was brand spanking new when my friend and I were looking for any possible alternative treatment for my husband’s cancer, and the above articles had not yet been written.  I present them here for you to make of them what you will, knowing that in dire circumstances, great headway is sometimes made in overcoming past prejudices.

P.S.  Thanks, Hirundine, for furnishing this further URL to obtain information about Marijuana oil: I also want to print this warning from the man who wrote the book Phoenix Tears and who operates that website:

‘This is the only real Rick Simpson web site. Make your own oil and be aware of scammers.
We do not supply oil, we are providing information. 
The only way to know that you have the real thing, is to produce the proper oil yourself. There are many criminals who say that they are producing RSO, and who are using Rick’s name. Rick Simpson has no connection with these suppliers and he has no involvement with the Phoenix Tears Foundation from the U.S., although there is a link on their web site which leads to his web site and Facebook page.”

Torn Love

Since today was still another free topic, I have chosen to take the Poets and Writers weekly prompt which is: The Flip Side—This week, think of something that has happened to you recently that was stressful, traumatic, or unpleasant. Write a poem about this event as you experienced it, regardless of anyone else’s perspectives or feelings on what occurred. Then rewrite the poem from the perspective of someone else involved in the situation. This new poem may not reflect the truth, but sometimes it’s important to remind ourselves that everything has a flip side.


Torn Love

Still standing close,
each on our own side of this terrible rending,
how can we see things so differently?
This little flap of skin
you keep pulling open
wants to close.

This is how cancers start—
this worrying and worrying of an old injury.
My darling. Leave it alone
and let us heal.
This is only a biopsy
of our changed love affair.

If it is cut out of us,
it will be by your decision;
and no number of late-night arguments
will ever change that fact.
What you need to remember
the next morning,
you will remember.

If it were up to me,
we would still be friends,
but if you need an enemy
to console you in your actions,
I guess I must be that too.
I always was a figment
of your imagination.
Believe that
if it makes this easier for you.



I know better than you
what lies buried under
my healed-over self.

The raised part of me
grown to protect the wound
creates this distance
that I once warned you of.

I need to thicken that part of me
where part of you remains,
and if for this time you gasp for air,
it is my thick skin growing over you,
like an orb spider winding you in my web

until you become
the one in me hidden so deep
that even you
believe you’ve disappeared.