IN THE FALL OF 2014, at six months old, Waldo was diagnosed with a very rare, very aggresive form of eye cancer known as bilateral retinoblastoma.
At the time of diagnosis, doctors told us what most people are told in situations like ours:
that chemotherapy - which is to say, steroids, opiates, narcotics, bags of pharmaceuticals and other hard drugs - is the best, safest, and most trusted option in modern medicine when it comes to fighting cancer.
The only option, really.
“…In order to save your son’s eyes, and his life,”
they told us, “you should take our advice…”.
So we did.
Chemo began later that week.
This isn’t a sad story at all…
Because something else happened to Waldo directly after that, something incredibly simple, that changed his life, and the course of ours, forever…
Something we were raised to believe was bad. Evil. Useless. Foolish. Unsafe. Not Medicine. AGAINST THE LAW.
Something called weed.
Specifically, cannabis oil.
IT WASN’T EASY TO FIND, where we live.
And it was in no way legal (as is tradition in many parts of the US), but that didn’t stop us, our friends, or Waldo’s uncles, from getting it for him.
With considerable help from experts in the field, and a few tough decisions, we traveled across the country and tracked some down.
Upon my return home, Waldo began his new, cannabis-based cancer treatment.
We saw firsthand just how powerful, precise, and effective this sacred medicine is when administered to a fragile infant.
Needless to say, we were absolutely floored by the results.
Within just a few short hours, Waldo began breastfeeding again. Crawling again. Pooping again. Laughing again. Being himself again.
Our newborn baby, Waldo, was back to ‘normal’, all things considered.
In other words,
cannabis helped him. And us.
A LOT.
Over the course of the next year, as he continued his various forms of chemotherapy, we continued his cannabis therapy, in secret.
And during that time, something funny happened that rarely happens to people in situations like ours:
we stopped giving our son pharmaceuticals outside the hospital, altogether.
And he stopped puking, altogether.
He stopped losing weight.
He never needed a blood transfusion, once.
He never needed a platalet transfusion, once.
He stopped acting sick.
We were told by countless medical professionals, some of the most respected in the western hemisphere, that our baby and his incredible cancer fight was ‘nothing short of a miracle’…
“The chemo must really be WORKING,” they said.
"…whatever else you’re doing at home, KEEP IT UP!" they insisted.
So we took their advice.
We kept giving our kid weed.