The Ganja is good: Whaaat?

When you go through what we have gone through in the last couple of years -- physically and mentally -- you grab ahold of the positive days and run with it.

When I say we, I say Teresa and me. Especially Teresa. There is no way anybody can fully understand what she has gone through with her health unless you are in her shoes. At times, I still can't comprehend it even when I see it every day.

The last few days have been pretty good for Teresa. Good in the sense that they weren't bad.

When that happens, she (we) feel pretty about about the future. Teresa has a long way to go, but as she has said a few times lately, there seems to be a little light at the end of the tunnel. The goal is to get the mycobacterium a little more under control and to get her moving a bit. If that happens, she might be able to transfer to a facility in Cheyenne. At least we would be closer to home. From that point, the goal is to get back home.

Wednesday morning before I had to leave to come back to work, Teresa was somewhat giddy and goofy. At some point, I said to her, "Are you high?" Of course, with the amount of medication she is on, that is probably a given.

She tried her best Jamaican accent and said, "Yeah man, the Ganja is good."

About five seconds later, she added, "Oh, when you are out and about, can you pick me up some?"

For a little background, in Denver there are medical marijuana shops about every four or five doors, especially along Colfax and Federal, which is near the hospital.

"Whaaaat?"

Now comes the time when I wonder, is she serious or is she just being a goofball?

"You know you have to have a prescription to get it? You know you can't smoke it in the hospital?

I pepper her with several more "you know" questions as she lays there and giggles.

"Yeah, I know," she finally says.

I'm still not sure if she was serious, she never really let on. After all, she does have glaucoma, which  supposedly is helped by the wacky weed. If anyone deserves a medical marijuana prescription, it would be Teresa.

Of course, we all know that those pot shops in Denver are all business and not for pleasure. If you believe that, then I have some prime farm land near Rawlins for sale. Just give me a ring and we'll do business.

I got on the road an hour later, leaving my wife in tears, which is a typical Wednesday. The conversation is always the same. "I don't want you to go," Teresa says. I answer, "If I could be here every day, I would." She finally relents and says, "I know."

I  hate Wednesdays.

Later that night, I reminded her of her earlier request to stop along the way. We laughed and things seemed OK again. Well, as OK as they can get.

Today is another day and if it is like the past, anything can happen and usually does. It has. Teresa has had some struggles already today, but she is getting through it.The only consistency in her recovery has usually been on the negative side. But we'll take the last couple of days for what they were and hope for the future.

Teresa just called. I asked, "What's up?" She said the sun.

And no, I didn't stop for a purchase down the street. But I think I did hear some Willie Nelson in the background. I'm not sure if that means anything.