I recently have embarked on a new endeavor, and although I am progressing through it completely legally, after my first experience, I felt as though I should start throwing some gang signs and check my purse for needles.

I’ve had to make my appointments covertly – telling people I was almost late to my cousin’s wedding, because my “doctor’s” appointment went long.

So what is this secretive journey? I am applying to get my medical marijuana card in the state of Illinois.  After having gone through the process, knowing how unclear it all was for me before I began, I thought maybe some of you would be curious about what this little foray into the haze may entail. 

When I found out Interstitial Cystitis was on the list of diseases which qualified for getting a card, I thought maybe it would take a form and a signature and that’s that – all done.

I had no idea the process would be so complex. It took me two years to find a doctor who would sign the papers, and I only found him through word of mouth.

I realize some of you may have a problem with marijuana, so I will say one thing and then I will save the rest of what I have to say on the matter for another post, because I promise I can bitch about the protests for quite a while.

The one thing I will say: the medication I am currently taking can cause liver damage as well as macular degeneration. I happen to like my liver and my eyes, so, personally, I’d like to find something I could take that would help out when I’m flaring instead of being on a medication for the rest of my life.

I’m truly fighting the very essence of who I am right now by not saying anymore, but it is not the purpose of the post, so, let’s get to the point.

How to Apply for a Medical Marijuana Card in Illinois:

1. Are You on the List??

Find your condition on this list. Did you find it?  Awesome. You qualify. What’s next?

2. ProVe It

Sorry, but the dispensary guy is not going to accept “I’ve got Glaucoma – hand me a brownie”.

You’re going to need proof of your illness. For me, this was the paperwork from the “death session”/cystoscopy I had which diagnosed my IC. 

IC was written on a million documents from a million doctors, but it was the diagnostic test, which Dr. B (to be introduced shortly) wanted.  The doctor who signs your certification paperwork is generally not the doctor who gives you your official diagnosis.  

OK, right. So start here. Get your diagnosis (usually the most difficult thing to do).  Get copies of your paperwork with your diagnosis written on it, typically from the diagnostic procedure/test they did to determine you actually had this illness, and then get moving to step #3

3. Illinois Medical Cannabis Pilot Program Physician Written Certification Form

You will need not one, but TWO appointments with a doctor before he/she will actually fill this out. This doctor, however, will likely not be the doctor who diagnosed you, as I found most clinicians, or rather the institutions they work for, have directives not to ever sign state paperwork for medical cards.

Why they feel it is A-OK to hand over pain meds like hot cakes and make marijuana a forbidden fruit, I have no idea. But again, not the purpose of this post.

I have the number of a doctor in Rockford, IL you can see. Message me and I’ll send it. I’m not sure the rules on posting business phone numbers on blogs, so I’m going to go ahead and wimp out and not post it.

4. Other Sh-tuff You Need:

(They have complete lists at the cannabis dispensaries, but in case you wanted to be a step ahead, here you go, you overachiever):

• Color Copy of Your State ID or Driver’s License
• Passport Photo
• State fee (range from $100 – $250 depending on how long you want it for)
• Copy of second proof of address
• If you want to add a caregiver, you’ll need to pay more fees for them
• If you’re on Social Security Disability, you’ll need a copy of your Benefit Verification Letter
• If you’re a veteran, you’ll need a copy of your DD-214

Once you have everything listed above, you will go to the dispensary of your choice, hand them your paperwork and they will mail it into the state.  If you live in Rockford, you can go to MedMar or MapleGlen.

The above four points are really all you need to know in order to get your card.  However, if you’d like to read a little bit more about the experience, I’ve put together a little summary below of my visits to the weed/ganga/pot/marijuana/cannabis/joint/hash/dope/marijane doctor (I’m always looking to learn, so if you have any other names for our friendly plant, please leave it in a comment below) 

Impressions From Seeing

the Pot Doctor 

If you do happen to see the same doctor I saw, I have to put a disclaimer into the universe and explain some things to you. When you call “Laura” (the number on the card you are supposed to call before the doctor), she will instruct you to bring 150 dollars cash (or check) to the first appointment. You will need to bring 100 dollars cash to the second. She will also tell you to bring exact change.

If it’s sounding sketchy, I’m pretty sure it totally is. However, I wanted my card, so I went along with it.

When I arrived to the office (pictured above), I was greeted by a man on crutches. I don’t remember what he said, but it was odd, and also kind of friendly?

The waiting room inside of a pot doctor’s office is a living, breathing, organism. It’s this strange little community of misfit toys. After I walked past the man on crutches, who I have now named “Coma” (details to follow, but I’m sure you can guess), I walked into a dark front desk area. No-one was sitting behind the desk. There was, however, a sign indicating I was in the right place and pointing me to the left.

So, I turned left, and into the party. There were probably 5/6 people sitting in the waiting room, but then, just past the waiting room was a conference room which had been converted into a secondary waiting room.

I didn’t see anyone official looking, so I kept walking down the hallway off the waiting room, but was caught by a medical assistant and brought back to the waiting room, where she took my blood pressure and all of my personal information. Yes, the entire pot doctor community knows my blood pressure is normal and they also know where I live.

An episode of Unsolved Mysteries from the 90’s was playing on a large television, but as intriguing as the story of “Dub”, the unsuspecting murderer from Ohio was, I was captivated by the conversation being had around the room.

Friends, it should already be clear by now that this was not your average waiting room, as it doubled as a patient room.  Typically, when you go to a doctor’s office, you grab a chair as far away as possible to any potential sick people (or maybe that’s just me), you don’t dare touch the magazines (germs), put in your headphones, and try to soak up your alone time (as a mom, going to the doctor by myself is often something I look forward to).

This was not the case at Dr. B’s office. The first woman I noticed had a wicked smoker’s voice and was engaging the room by asking why everyone was there. If you are a private person, and plan to go to a place like Dr. B’s, prepare to feel violated.

I named her Lyrica (in my phone’s notes – because this was an experience I knew I was obligated to write about afterward). She, apparently, takes Lyrica, but hates it because it makes her so sleepy, so she smokes marijuana to keep her functioning well in everyday life.  I don’t know?  I’m just reporting what she said.

Coma was back in the room and he was there because he had previously had prostate cancer. It has since healed, but he shared, “it takes a while to come back from it”. I’m pretty sure it had been years. But, no judgement.

I looked into the secondary waiting room and was able to spot a bug (large enough to be spotted from a separate room) crawl across the floor. I then saw another large bug crawling up the wall behind Coma. I pulled my coat tighter and moved to the edge of the seat. I wanted to bring home a medical card, not bed bugs or cockroaches.

Lyrica soon admitted that she had stopped for two rum and Cokes on the way to the office. It was how she explained her “chattiness” to the poor guy who was trying to ignore everyone by staring deeply into the game he was playing on his phone. Lyrica kept talking about how he wasn’t talking, and he kept not talking, and it was just…phenomenal.

Sometimes you find a person who, is so utterly amusing and weird and completely different from yourself, that you just want to follow them around forever.

This is how I felt about Lyrica. She was fascinating. She had driven from Arkansas (apparently from the part of Arkansas which had prehistoric swamps.  I told you she was fascinating), stopped for those rum and Cokes and came straight to the office.

The following are quotes from Lyrica which I would love to put into context, but the truth is, most of them came out of nowhere:

“I try to be what’s right but I’m getting tired of it”

“I deleted my Facebook after my puppy got killed by my friend’s pit bull”

“I used to sing in bands. People are so unreal. And I think maybe I am. So I stay away from people right now. My animals are way better than people”

Complete gold.  

I waited in that filthy waiting room for an hour and a half. In that time, I learned how Coma had been in a (bet you didn’t see this one coming): coma for nine days.

When he woke up, he opened his eyes to see his crazy ex-girlfriend and decided he didn’t want to live. Although he was seeing Dr. B for the very same reason I was, he looked at me and said “you kids and your drugs”.

It appeared everyone in the waiting room had been friends for years, and they were inviting me into their fraternity.

Even though I was taking notes on every ridiculous thing they said, I did, allllmost, feel a sense of oneness with them.

We’d all been in pain, and this is truly something only someone who has been in pain themselves can understand. It bonds, because until you know what continued pain feels like, you can’t empathize with the despair and the frustration.

But there we all were, getting our signature from Dr. B, commiserating about coma’s, sharing our struggles with pain, and ex-girlfriends (PS the same ex-girlfriend who was supposed to pick Coma up from the “office” drove away when it took too long – when he saw her drive away, he hobbled outside on his crutch, one pissed off arm up in the air)

When I left Dr. B’s office after my second visit, he told me I was a good patient. As a hopeless people pleaser, somehow it made me very happy to know that I had been a good girl for the pot doctor.

He shared with me how he currently has 3,000 patients. I still need to get myself into the dispensary to send on all my paperwork into the state, and according to Dr. B, it is taking at least a few months to get medical cards back to patients due to the overwhelming amount of applications.

Now, I’m not sure if Dr. B is doing this out of the sheer kindness of his heart, to get the easy cash, or because maybe he accidentally killed someone or something in his previous practice (I have absolutely no evidence of this.  I am simply speculating.  Wouldn’t want Dr. B to demote me to a less than stellar patient).

Whatever his motivation, this man is helping people in pain get access to something that could ACTUALLY help their pain.

Although the experience felt slimy, I’m ridiculously thankful I could finally find a doctor who would sign their name to the line which allows me to try something for my pain that is not addictive and poses no threats to my liver or eyes (unless I start smoking incessantly, and considering I am getting the card mostly for the CBD oil, I don’t see this becoming an issue).

Don’t let the stigma hold you back, friend.  If trying marijuana could help your pain, why not give it a shot?

Any of the rest of you been down this road?  I’d love to hear your story below!  And be sure to ask me any questions you still may have!