There is a drug called Charlotte’s Web that is legal in
Colorado and nowhere else. It is an incredibly
effective treatment for epileptic seizures and is legally available in but one
state. I don’t remember any of the
Pfizer, Astra-Zeneca, or Merck products looking to solve the world’s small bladder,
varicose vein, and impotence problems being available in limited areas. Don’t get me wrong, if I couldn’t get it up,
I would gladly take a drug for that, but while corporations have tackled the
type of First-World problems that get Americans ridiculed, the availability of
a potentially life-saving drug has been delayed far too long. I say delayed because I don’t know that drugs
like these won’t become available in
the days to come; I hope they will. And
I say potentially because as the critics will tell you, the testing on these “healers”
has been limited.
And while onlookers can see the big picture, await the
testing, and applaud generously when government finally concludes in their
favor, the individual suffers. The
masses may be okay with waiting out the appropriate processes, but those with a
horse in the race would like to see the finish line before hope is lost.
And testing has been limited, forcing even the most ardent
of supporters to urge caution. Potential
might not sound like much, but for those with little hope, for those without
control, it means everything. Potential
is better than nothing, and when you feel you have nothing to lose, the unknown
that might help is a hell of a lot
better than the known that doesn’t.
Imagine this, imagine you’re a parent, and you watch your
child struggle every day in pain, and you know there is little you can do. I believe that is that sort of thing that could
drive a parent to insanity.
Now I understand that empathy is a made up word, and sympathy
is hard to come by, but if it were me I’d do right by those who suffer.
And I don’t want to hear that It’s just not possible, or that We’re
not there yet, or that These things
take time, or There’s a lot of red
tape involved. Make an exception,
make it happen, get off your infallible high horse and do some good.
There is no doubt in my mind that if I were one of these
parents I would break the law. I would
drive, fly, or walk to Colorado to get this drug. I would do whatever I could for my child and
for myself. And if I was pulled over, if
I was caught I would laugh whole-heartedly.
The idea that I was doing something wrong, that I was an evil-doer to be
locked up with those who have inflicted harm upon others is so utterly ridiculous it defies
reason.
And then I imagine I’m the cop. I took an oath to uphold the law; to be a
moral man. If it cost me my career I
wouldn’t arrest you. How would that make me the good guy? Secretly I would
hope it might come to that.
Whether I was the cop who refused to do his duty and arrest
a user of illegal drugs, or the holder of those drugs taken into custody of the
state, I would raise such a stink it would almost make the injustice worth
it. I would use the opportunity to build
momentum for change. I would be proud to
have done such good. And in the meantime
I would painstakingly watch as those who suffered continued to wait. I would be immersed in the struggle; nothing
could be done fast enough to relieve my pain.
Perhaps it is easier to ignore. It is easier for the masses to ignore the
problems of the few. For this is a drug
for the few. It is not the cure to
cancer. It will not positively (or
negatively) affect the lives of the masses.
But to the mother, the father, the family of a suffering child, that
doesn’t matter. Statistics don’t matter
to the individual. One in ten-thousand
or one in a million is still one, and for that one, the fact that he or she is
the only one doesn’t make it any easier, instead it makes it harder.
