My Budtender

"How can I help you?"

"I have three different cancers and want whatever will make me feel the best," I answer. "You know, euphoric and psychedelic."

This is my first experience with a "Budtender", a professional dispenser of fine cannabis products. Much like a bartender, though seemingly more "medical" in diagnosing what will best meet my needs.

"He could use something to help him sleep," Sarah adds.

"Well, that's true," I laugh shaking my head, "but that's secondary in relation to my other needs."

"Something that helps sleep," Sarah repeats, and our Budtender, obviously an astute detector of who's in charge, immediately whips out a nicely packaged assortment of gummies.

"This will do it," he recommends with smiling conviction.

"I'd rather have the ...," I begin but Sarah takes his recommendation, as he types the order into his hand held computer.

Henry, our son-in-law, points out something he's used for sleep but our Budtender laughs while shaking his head, points at the black box of black gummies, and says, "Trust me! This will be fine."

"Now," he resumes, looking directly at me, finally addressing my particular needs, "for you I recommend ..."

"Perfect," I say, "we'll take two."

Checking out is no different from any other doctor's office except there's a long line of happy, smiling customers. Except here's affordable, unlike any America's Doctor's office.

Later, after a full afternoon enjoying family fun, we're crowded together on daughter Laurel's sofas and air mattresses, talking and laughing when everyone decides bed time's getting close.

"I think I'll try one of the sleep gummies," I announce.

No one in my family pays attention as they talk, laugh and continue to enjoy being together again.

After a few minutes of talking and laughing with them, I'm not really sure what happens.

Rob, Laurel's dashing most significant other, is suddenly grabbing me as, apparently, I'm topping over.

"Shouldn't we take his coat off?" Rob asks, holding me upright while Maddie and Henry grab my legs to swing them onto the bed.

Sarah says, "just leave his coat on. He'll be fine."

Che meanders over, kisses my forehead, and says "Poor Daddy".

"He's shaking," Maddie says.

"Give him blankets," Sarah instructs, so Henry throws a blanket on me.

Sometime the next morning, when I wake up, I stare at everyone who's already up staring at me.

"You slept all night," Sarah says.

"I'll be damn," I croak, grinning.

We learned a lot on this amazing, unlikely, slightly miraculous road trip, Sarah, Maddie, Henry, Laurel and Rob concocted.

Listen to your Budtender, is one a big one.