Mark D. Pedersen
Lead Car Driver
IIn the early 90’s, I was a certified power plant welder and pipefitter for our
local electric company, I had a small computer consulting business, a food pantry that serviced hundreds of residents over a four county area, and regularly ministered to the sick and terminally ill in hospitals all over St. Louis. I was married, with three children.
Our oldest daughter, Rachel had numerous health issues, ranging from heart problems, scoliosis of the spine, problems with her eyesight and teeth, and learning disabilities. Her daily struggles and triumphs inspired my then wife, Lori, and I to reach out to others afflicted with serious health and financial needs.
My life was quite hectic, easily spending 80+ hours a week working at any and all of the above mentioned responsibilities.
It had been a long haul getting to this point – so many no-where jobs just to support my family. My B.A. in Fine Arts afforded me very little but a few freelance jobs since leaving school in 1980.
My power plant job was often physically grueling and always hot and very dirty, but it was the best money I had ever made and worth the five years it took me to get on with the company. I was finally making a good living, a far cry from just a few years earlier when we were living in government housing.
Lori and I bought a piece of rural property near our church and moved our mobile home there. Eventually, we hoped to build our dream home on this piece of land.
One of my dreams was to own rental property, so when Lori’s Grandpa decided to sell his house in Herculaneum, we jumped at the chance.
Herculaneum is a very old, company town, built around the St. Joe Mineral Company (now, Doe Run Lead), the principal industry of this small community.
Hindsight tells me it was not a very wise move, buying this house. Lori’s maternal Grandmother had died of bladder cancer and her Grandfather was then suffering from the same thing. Lori’s parents were caring for him in their home across town,
But life was getting better for us. I saw this house as a stair step to our goal. We would move into the little house, fix it up, and in the mean time, sell our mobile home and build our house in the country. Then we could rent the little old house out for a second income. At least, that was my plan. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.
In the middle of all this, my Step-Father passed away from an extended bout with Pancreatic cancer, leaving my Mother without the income to make the payments on their new home. Without a place to stay, we moved her into our now vacant mobile home.
It wasn’t long before we realized this scenario was not going to go away anytime soon. We weren’t going to be able to sell the mobile home, at least not for a while. Now, with two mortgages, all I could do was step up the workload and work as much overtime as I could get.
To make matters worse, the contractor I had hired to convert a carport on the small stucco house into two more bedrooms proved to be far worse than shoddy, causing in excess of $10,000 worth of damages to the structure. After firing him I set out to complete the addition myself.
During the renovation of this 90 year old structure, I was repeatedly exposed to high concentrations of lead, cadmium, and arsenic - carcinogenic bi-products (heavy metals) of the lead smelting process.
During my childhood years, from birth to high school graduation, I was regularly exposed to the “sulfur fog” that used to blanket our school and surrounding community from Doe Run Lead’s tall smoke stack. For whatever reason, I had not correlated that the cause of my many troublesome illnesses while growing up might be caused by the local industry.
Soon after moving into the little house, I became quite ill, suffering a high susceptibility to colds and influenza, muscle and joint pain, severe migraines, and memory loss.
After a countless number doctors and specialists; hospital stays, blood tests for everything under the sun; MRI’s, CAT Scans, and ex-rays, I was finally given the “last resort” diagnoses of Fibromyalgia with Migraines.
The weakness in my legs, short and long term memory loss, two to three severe migraines a week, and nausea made it very difficult for me to maintain the very physical work required for my job at the power plant. By 1996, having reached a level of unacceptable sick leave, I was forced to either go on disability or lose my job. I closed the doors on my much needed benevolence ministry and placed my computer consulting business in the hands of my wife.
In late 1997, I was approached by a former client to assist him in starting a medical computer business. Though my cognitive abilities were greatly impaired by my ailment, I thought this opportunity would afford me the possibility of someday permanently returning to the workforce, in spite of my illness.
First, working entirely at home and only on the few good days when I was not laid up in bed or on the couch, I constructed prototypes and aligned programmers that would later be the foundation of a forerunning corporation.
During the course of my active part on the Fibromyalgia newsgroup, I came across an obscure entry suggesting marijuana as a possible worthwhile alternative for my ailment, as opposed to the debilitating side-effects of prescription drugs I was taking. After careful consideration, I sought out a friend who I knew smoked marijuana recreationally.
Though partaking of an illegal drug meant self-ostracizing myself from family and friends for their protection, I counted it a worthwhile sacrifice.
After a few weeks time, it became noticeable to me that, not only did the migraines reduce in intensity, their frequency was slowly diminishing. Perhaps the most unexpected result of my self-medication was the dramatic increase in my cognitive abilities, such a total turnabout from the government sponsored propaganda we had all been so regularly fed.
I wish I could say that the following three years were totally positive, but they were not. In 2000, soon after my partner’s begrudging agreement to make good on his promise to make me a legal, full-time employee, (vice-president of technology), I was demoted and soon after, laid off without viable cause.
I was already separated from my wife of 22 years and soon after, she filed for divorce. The loss of income cost us our house, our new cars, and our children’s education. To make matters worse, in September of the following year, my daughter, Rachel, died unexpectedly at the age of 20.
This cascade of events brought about a retrospectively obvious nervous breakdown, that only now am I witnessing a reprieve. I cannot begin to phathom where I would be now if I did not have a natural, holistic treatment for the nausea, and excruciating migraines that previously robbed me of my memories, my livelihood, and my family life.
Presently, amidst my second attempt at re-entering the workforce, I have completed a large part of a vocation rehabilitation subsidized computer training program. I have been encouraged by my remarkably accelerated progress and high marks. I have a long way to go, but I’m on my way again.
I believe I am well overdue expressing publicly my medicinal marijuana experience. I regret my silence up to now, but I hope that, through my added testimony, others will come forward, and our corporate efforts will eventually silence the overwhelming misinformation that has permeated our airways. We must bring about an end to the unjust prohibition of this much needed natural medicine.
Marijuana is first and foremost a medicine. It may not be a miracle cure, but it most certainly is a safe, holistic alternative to many of the costly and often harmfully toxic offerings of our nation’s pharmaceutical companies. We must do all we can to change this country’s mindset.
Sincerely,
