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The spider web-like mass found in my right breast the summer of 2012 had me thinking about my mom, the farm she was raised on, DDT, Malathion, Rachel Carson, and Cannabis – in that order.

I saw the configuration while proactively peeking over the shoulder of both the mammogram and ultra-sound technicians.

While waiting for the biopsy I decided to do some research, and in no time found an image of a nearly identical mass on the Mayo Clinic’s Web site, naming it, “Lobular Carcinoma.”

This type of cancer begins in the milk-producing glands of the breast, or lobules, affecting 10 to 15 percent of all women in the U.S. It’s a mass, not a lump, as with the ever popular Ductal Carcinoma, affecting up to 85 percent of women in this country.

Mayo, WTF?

This information can be found in the Mayo Clinic’s tedious, page-by-page listing of incredibly limited information, with the only cause listed as Hormone replacement. Which stumps me, since my sister – who is 18 months older – had this same type of cancer just two years prior, never having taken Hormones.

In my humble opinion, being proactive about health is equal to being able to see past the bullshit of modern day medicine’s smoke screens. Being a cannabis patient, my bullshit meter runs a bit high.

Once Upon a Time

My mom grew up on a farm in Illinois in the 1920s and 30s, just outside of the state capitol of Springfield. Yes, Springfield. Kind of like The Simpsons – the difference being, my mom told childhood stories of dancing with my aunt and uncle beneath the rain of DDT falling down from crop dusting airplanes on the waving fields of grain. None of them grew a third eye, all died of cancers.

Carson discovered the dangers of DDT as far back as 1939, yet didn’t write Silent Spring until 1962, describing in great detail how pests are killed by an attack on their central nervous system – paralyzing and rendering them defenseless until their immune system fails and each organ stops functioning and they suffocate.

Poisoned Little Planet

DDT stays in genetic bloodlines up to five generations that we know of. Off the top of my head, illnesses affecting the central nervous and auto immune systems are, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, Huntington’s, epilepsy, multiple sclerosis; all the attention deficit disorders; and the entire, and ever broadening, fabulously popular, autistic spectrum, including anxiety, and a bevy of psychiatric and mental disorders.

DDT wasn’t pulled from U.S. markets until 1972. It’s no shock to learn the stuff is still in use today as a “Vector Control” in many third world countries.

Relax, it’s good for you

My mom was diagnosed with stage five ductal carcinoma in 1999. She was gone three months later. After reviewing her records, it was found the cancer began in her lungs. Second-hand smoke from tobacco, they said, killed my mom.

When I was in high school in the mid-1970s Malathion was sprayed at night over Los Angeles in an attempt to save our agriculture industry from the Fruit Fly. I remember a curfew at night, then going outside in the morning and having an oily film on everything.

Shortly thereafter, I came down with a mysterious infection with a temperature of 104 that sent me to the hospital twice for weeks at a time. The skin on my hands and feet peeled, I turned yellow with jaundice, lost two months of school, and nearly died. No diagnosis was ever made.

The Blame Game

In general, the powers that be tell the average American, you took hormone replacement, therefore you have lobular carcinoma; you drank more than three glasses of alcohol a day, had children after 30 (or didn’t have children at all), therefore you have ductal carcinoma; you were near second-hand smoke, therefore you have lung cancer; you didn’t use sun block, therefore you have skin cancer.

The redirecting of blame is enough to make anyone sick.

As a cannabis patient I’m angry enough for the lack of information and research on cannabis and cancer, let alone a vague and bleary window of information in general on why or how I contracted it.

Take two support groups and call me in the morning

Already challenged with thyroid disease, literally suffering through menopause, being faced with the possibility of cancer was daunting, to say the least.

Thankfully, within the cannabis community, the most common thread in the veil of help for cancer and other illness seems to be within ourselves and each other.

I have fewer answers than the Mayo Clinic’s website, but one thing I do know: I have educated choices that go beyond what the powers that be would like us to believe. I have a green village at my fingertips, and my bowl runneth over.

Boob Lubed

Pending the biopsy, I began ingesting raw leaves in salad, then blending it in a drink, daily, and upped the nightly dose of Nternal Oil needed for sleep troubles, caused by menopause.

Nternal link:

The morning of the biopsy I ingested a tablespoon of homemade cannabis-infused honey tincture, rather than the usual “Valium” needed for my medical procedure phobias.

I was completely relaxed as the technician rolled the Ultra-Sound’s magic wand around my breast, thinking to myself, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if the minimal amount ingested was enough to make that spider-web disappear?”

As I lay there further telling myself, “Too good to be true, not going to happen to me,” the technician informs, “I can’t seem to find it.”

After looking at past and current views, the surgeon said, “We might not do this today.”

To which I informed, “I’ve been ingesting raw cannabis – that may be the reason,” to which he asks if he can do that therapy too.

Typical Stoner vs. Enlightened Patient

Why is it that stoner jokes always seem to come into play whether medicine is discussed or not? As if getting high is the end-all, as I lay there with my boob exposed and jelled, facing the big “C.”

But this is my moment to enlighten, and I advise, no, ingesting of raw cannabis will not get you high, and teased that it may not be the treatment for him, to which he was comically disappointed.

I then ask if he is aware of cannabis as a treatment for cancer, and he quickly says no, but continues to tell me that he was part of a cannabis experiment in medical school in the 1960s that found medicinal value to the plant, such as in treating nausea.

As he tells it, they injected him with a cannabis serum (heated, no doubt), and he said he became so excited (intoxicated is more like it), he grabbed the ass of the attending nurse.

This admission was met with howls of laughter from the attending staff, but I pressed on.

“That must have been a strong batch,” I say, to more chuckles. I then advise him of the practice of heating cannabis for psychoactive effects of THC (tetrahydrocannabinol), and that CBD (cannabidiol) is a natural medicine that works with our bodies, promoting health and healing illness.

Mind you, this is all taking place as I lay there, boob lubed for all to see.

Personal Trials

Stumped at the lack of mass, the good doctor wanted to go ahead with the procedure, “… as long as we are all here,” he declared.

I took this as my chance to do a little trial myself and asked if we could postpone the procedure another month while I continue with my own therapy. Thankfully, he agreed.

Second Time’s A Charm

The month preceding the second scheduled biopsy, I continued to ingest cannabis smoothies daily using raw leaves. I also began a treatment of Rick Simpson Oil, otherwise known as “RSO,” originally created by Canadian, Rick Simpson, used the world over to cure cancer and other serious ailments.

During the second scheduled biopsy one month later, the “target point” was gone, with the attending surgeon declaring, “No biopsy needed.”

The attending ultra-sound technician (also attending during the first scheduled biopsy) wrote it off as a “technical error” on the part of both the initial mammogram technician and the ultra-sound technician prior.

It didn’t matter that I saw the spider web-like mass with my own eyes, because the medical community’s hands are tied when it comes to acknowledging Cannabis as a cure for Cancer. As long as our Federal Government has it scheduled with heroin, including it in its miserably failed “War on Drugs,” how can they?

60 Grams in 90 Days

There are numerous testimonials of cancer curing and/or alleviating real illness on the Internet. One woman,  Corrie Yelland, is a cannabis patient in British Columbia who shared on Rick Simpson’s Facebook page that she too was Cancer-free after receiving a two to four month death sentence for anal cancer last summer – the same kind of invasive Cancer that took the life of actress Farah Fawcett.

After Yelland’s doctor advised she get her affairs in order, she looked up Rick Simpson’s how-to YouTube video, made her own RSO, and ingested the concentrate for the suggested dosage of 60 grams in 90 days. She also made suppositories, thinking she might as well get it right to the cancer.

When her cancer literally disappeared, so dumbfounded was her Oncologist by her miraculous recovery, he proceeded with a biopsy out of sheer disbelief, but all he found was scar tissue.

Evangelize Cannabis

As Clint Werner so aptly states, until 1942 cannabis was on the U.S. list of medicinal botanicals. It was a major compound used in hundreds of remedies for centuries, globally and Biblically.

Jesus healed with “Holy Anointing Oil” – and it wasn’t Canola, that’s for damn sure.

Knowledge is power. It’s not a matter of if we get cancer; it’s when, and all the sunscreen in the world won’t change the fact that toxins have made a home in our genetic blood lines for generations to come.

Cannabis is not an issue of crime; it’s a matter of education. Do the research yourself and learn the truth. Grow your own, start a leaf co-op, become a medicine maker, and spread the truth — for until the words come from out of our mouths, the truth will not be heard — and our lives and the health of the planet depend on it.



Editor’s note: Sharon Letts began her love of gardening in Southern California by her mother’s side, watching as she buried fish heads at the base of roses.

At 24, Sharon hung her shingle, “Secret Garden,” planting flower beds for dainty ladies. Gardening led to producing and writing for television with “Secret Garden Productions.”
Today Sharon makes her home in Humboldt County, cannabis capitol of the world, where she continues to write about gardening and all that implies, advocating for the bud, and writing for many magazines, including Skunk.
Her series, “Humboldt Stories,” is a fictional account, based on fact, of the Humboldt grow scene. Tag line: “It’s not Weeds, it’s real.”
She also pens “Road Trip: In Search of Good Medicine,” touring the Golden State, following the Green Rush.



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