Or I could just text you my address and have you order it, and send to me, then re-ship it to you.

Or, we could do that. Ping me at my profile addy if you don't have my number.

I feel like I'm hooking up with my dealer, here.

Medical marijuana was recently approved in Ohio, but they don't yet have the system in place for anyone to actually get it.

And you can get fired for using legally prescribed medical marijuana. That law was so poorly thought out.

I did actually feel weird sending powder into Baltimore last week, but cocoa powder does not count!

I just read your piece, erika. Excellent stuff!

Thank you.

Tomorrow is Tim's appointment with the actual pulmonologist, who can look at the results of his pulmonary function tests and the results of his CT scan and figure out what might be going on and what the prognosis might be.

I'm pretty sure the prognosis isn't horrific, but beyond that, I genuinely have no idea. At this point, my logic is broken and my anxiety is driving the bus. I'm not panic-attack-y; just stressed to the point that I am (seriously) hallucinating a little. (I know that sounds massively drama queeny ["Oh, I'm in such a bad way I'm seeing things, oh woe, everyone pay attention to me!"], but I actually have been seeing things that aren't there for a few weeks and just didn't want to say anything on top of all the other stuff going on. So, you know. Good thing I have a therapist appointment this week. She can't hospitalize me for something like that, right?)

Anyway, my point is -- fuck my issues (seriously). None of my shit matters right now. All I care about is Tim's health. So please cross all your digits for him, and pray/ask the universe that all his results are just minor and extremely deal-with-able.

May it be something like a minor inflammation around the lungs. And may the gremlins leave you alone.

Lung~ma for Tim and calm~ma for you, Steph! May it be minor and easily controlled.

All my digits are crossed.