Let’s talk about it.
The Devil’s Lettuce.

Now I get it — I really get the stigma.
I was raised on it.

I still remember the DARE program —
I even won the essay contest in 6th grade and read it to the whole school!
“Drugs are bad, mkay?” (LOL)

Cut to adulthood: life said,
“Girl, hold my joint.”

Because truth is — I judged people who used marijuana long before I knew what it was.
My parents said stoners were lazy and would never amount to anything.

Spoiler alert: one of the biggest stoners in my high school graduated top of our med-school class and is now a rock-star orthopedic surgeon.
#Legend #PlotTwist

I remember going to a 311 concert in Lafayette on 3/11 (yes, the math was mathing) and asking my then-boyfriend:
“Why does everything smell like rotten pizza — and why are your eyes red?”
#SoInnocent

I even told that same boyfriend I’d break up with him if he didn’t quit smoking the Devil’s Lettuce.
I printed out articles and citations proving it was a “gateway drug” and that he’d be on heroin in six weeks.

Spoiler alert: Percocet is the gateway drug, not weed.
So maybe tell Susan in the front pew — ’cause we all know she’s got a few roxis tucked in that secret pocket of her Louis Vuitton, okurr?

But once I learned the science, my whole perspective shifted.

Cannabis is not a moral failure.
It’s a policy failure — a success story of propaganda.

Because the truth is:
Cannabis is medicine.
And if you believe in God, it might even be a God-given one —
because it grows straight out of the ground, helping people heal when everything else has failed.

Did you know? There’s no recorded death in the medical literature from cannabis use.
You can drink too much water and die.
You can have anaphylaxis from peanut butter.
You can destroy your liver with Tylenol or alcohol — both sold over the counter.
But cannabis? Nada.

At The Oui Doctor, we’ve seen patients safely taper off medications like
Trazodone, Klonopin, Ambien, Percocet, Norco, Gabapentin, Celebrex, Mobic, and Xanax —
using a plant-based option that’s gentle on the liver and kidneys, under careful supervision.

And the results can be beautiful.

David L. — whose wife has dementia in memory care — told me at follow-up:

“It’s like I’ve gotten my wife back.”
Instead of being snowed under with Haldol just to keep her quiet at night, she gets to share a peaceful moment with her husband.

Jay G. went from divorced and drinking to finding new love and a fiancée — completely sober except for the occasional social puff.
When we addressed his anxiety appropriately with cannabis, he no longer needed — or even wanted — the booze.
Also #NoHangoverTheNextDay.

These aren’t miracles. They’re monitored transformations — the kind that happen when we use the right tool with the right support.

In my own life — as a doctor, a creative, a mom, and a trauma survivor — cannabis became one tool that helped me quiet the noise.
It didn’t erase the pain or anxiety.
It gave me the present moment back.

Around 4:30 I’d take half of a key-lime gummy, and by bathtime with Ari, all I cared about in the world was Thomas the Train and what shenanigans Percy was up to that day.
It gave me space to enjoy what actually matters.

So no — it’s not the devil.
It’s not a vice.
It’s not dirty or shameful.

It’s a plant.
And for the right person, it’s medicine.

Whether you’re a teen who needs relief from autism-related agitation,
or an 80-year-old who just wants to walk without knee pain —
a young mom with insomnia or a veteran with PTSD —
medical cannabis can be evaluated and prescribed under professional care for anything that decreases your quality of life.

Say OUI to research.
Say OUI to regulation.
Say OUI to relief.

Use every tool in your toolkit — responsibly, intentionally, and without shame.

And if anyone still clutches their pearls about it, just smile and say:

“It’s the Devil’s Lettuce, not the devil.”

Plants before pills, y’all.
You get to choose. Say OUI.