My mom had rather severe rheumatoid arthritis.
Whenever she required anything from the store, I was always the one who took her, or did the shopping.
I enjoyed doing things for Mom because she totally needed the help. This past week, I had been stuck at home with the flu. My head throbbed with a severely painful headache. Breathing felt like someone had poured molten steel into my lungs. I was on some very powerful meds that made me feel entirely sleepy and groggy. When Mom reached out to me and asked if I could get her medication, I could barely talk. She was entirely worried over my well-being and miserable that I hadn’t called to tell her I was so sick. I croaked out that I would get the medication for her and asked where it had to be picked up from. She told me it was just her medical cannabis prescription that she needed. I was never so blissful to hear that she wanted her medical cannabis. I easily remembered that the local marijuana dispensary would deliver to her. They had once told us that we simply just had to call to have the medical cannabis products delivered. I was about to take them up on their offer. I told her to contact the marijuana dispensary and supply them with her information. She hesitated, and I relented. I let her know that I would make the call. After apologizing for my awful voice, I finally told the person at the medical cannabis dispensary who I was and precisely what I needed. I offered them Mom’s address and her medical ID number. They swiftly promised to get the marijuana medicine to her by the end of the day. They also said they weren’t going to charge her a delivery fee.