I, Jo Daly, declare as follows:

1. In 1980, I was appointed by Dianne Feinstein, then Mayor of San Francisco, to serve as police commissioner for the city of San Francisco, an office which I held for six years. It was a job I was proud of, one in which I was duty bound to respect and uphold the law.
2. I left that position in 1986. Two years later, on May 24, 1988, I was diagnosed with Phase IV cancer of the colon. By the time it was diagnosed, it had already spread to my ovaries and lymph nodes. My oncologist at the UCSF Hospital prescribed an aggressive regimen of chemotherapy which lasted six months. The chemicals administered to me to fight the cancer were 5-Fluorouracil (also known as 5FU) and several other chemicals. I was given large doses of the chemicals, four hours a day, five days a week during the first week of each month. Each day, when I returned home from the hospital following treatment, at about 5:00 p.m., my whole body turned quite warm, as if a fever were coursing through me. My fingernails even burned with heat. Invariably, I was overcome by a sudden wave of intense nausea -- like a nuclear implosion in my solar plexus -- and I rushed desperately for the bathroom where I would remain for hours, clutching the toilet and retching my guts out. I had no appetite. I could not hold down what little food that I managed to swallow. And I could not sleep at night.
3. This intense nausea persisted for the two weeks following the treatment. By the third week after treatment, the side effects of the chemicals began to wear off and I started to feel better. The next week, however, I had to return to the hospital where the chemicals were administered once more, beginning my hell all over again.
4. To combat the nausea, I tried Marinol, a synthetic version of THC, one of the primary chemicals found in marijuana. However, I was often unable to swallow the Marinol capsule because of my severe nausea and retching. A friend then gave me a marijuana cigarette, suggesting that it might help quell my nausea. I took three puffs from the cigarette. One-half hour later, I was calm, my nausea had disappeared, my appetite returned, and I slept that evening.
5. When I returned to the hospital for the next infusion of chemicals, I listened to the conversations of the other cancer patients milling about the ward. Several spoke about their success with marijuana to combat nausea. When I mentioned that marijuana worked for me the previous evening, one patient gave me the phone number of an East Bay medical marijuana delivery service. When I got home, I called the number and the people delivered to my door a small amount of medical marijuana free of charge. They simply requested a donation to the extent I was able to make one. The delivery person explained that hundreds of patients ¾ cancer sufferers, paraplegics, persons with glaucoma and other conditions ¾ needed medical marijuana for their serious illnesses. It was through the delivery service that I first learned that other patients used marijuana to treat their illnesses. Although I was told that hundreds of people like me used medical marijuana, very few openly discussed it for fear of reprisal from the police.
6. I told my oncologist about how well marijuana quelled my nausea. My doctor was not surprised. In fact, he told me that many of his patients had made the same discovery. My doctor encouraged me to continue using marijuana if it worked. Although it occasionally produced a slight euphoria, it was not a painful sensation and I was careful never to leave the house during those rare moments.
7. After my chemotherapy finished, I spent most of my time nursing myself back to health. Unbeknownst to me, however, my body was still being ravaged by cancer. By 1995, my health declined to such an extent that I underwent extensive tests. I was diagnosed with lung cancer on February 14 of that year.
8. My oncologist -- a different one from my earlier episode of cancer -- recommended that I undergo three sessions of very aggressive chemotherapy comprising a series of chemicals, including Cisplatin, VP16 (Etoposide) and Cytoxan. Although I was warned that some people did not survive the chemotherapy, I agreed to try it nonetheless. As part of the treatment, I was hospitalized at University of California Mount Zion Hospital for three months and prescribed some 27 different medications.
9. My second session of chemotherapy was even more brutal than the first. My hair fell out. My gums swelled up and bled. My body was racked with pain. I suffered extreme bouts of nausea and retching. And I found myself in a terrible state of despair. As I have heard it described, I was experiencing "cellular suicide." I was prepared to quit my treatment altogether and live out the final days of my life free from the horrible side effects of the chemicals. Death seemed preferable to the intense pain and discomfort caused by my treatment. I told all of my friends as much.
10. To calm my stomach, I ingested marijuana baked in brownies and cookies during my stay in the hospital. Some of my nurses and doctors knew that I was occasionally using marijuana as an anti-nauseant. With no word of discouragement from them, I myself discovered the relationship between marijuana and the relief I felt. Were it not for the marijuana I could not have eaten. And if I had not eaten, I would have become even weaker and very likely would have died. But, thanks to the marijuana that I took while laying in my hospital bed, I was able to eat. And my physicians, in whom I placed great trust and confidence, were able to convince me to use what little strength I had left to undergo my third and final round of chemotherapy. This was the final and critical part of the prescribed therapy. Many of the women I met in the process simply refused to subject themselves to yet another assaultive treatment. I am saddened to report none are alive today. As a result of my ability to withstand the chemotherapy, I am one of the lucky 3% of persons who survive my form of cancer.
11. My use of medical marijuana had a secondary, though by no means minor benefit: I was able to drastically reduce my dependence on more powerful prescription drugs that I was prescribed for pain and nausea. With the help of medical marijuana, which I ingest only occasionally and in small amounts, I no longer need the Compazine, Lorazepam, Atavan and Halcion. No combination of these medications provided adequate relief. They also caused serious side effects that I never experienced with marijuana.
12. I sincerely wish that I had been able to ingest, tolerate, and benefit from Marinol. I would have been spared the enormous anxiety involved in obtaining, storing, and using medical marijuana. I am a law abiding citizen. For six years, I was a police commissioner of San Francisco. I am very respectful of the law and I hold law enforcement in high esteem. Thus, it was with great trepidation that I ingested medical marijuana during my illness. The marijuana saved my life. But the illegal status of my medicine greatly exacerbated the stress of suffering a terrifying illness and undergoing a painful treatment. I have spent a lot of time and energy to heal myself. An essential step in this process is to reduce unnecessary stress. Having to break the law to get the medicine I needed was counterproductive. I was careful to make sure that the marijuana I received was pure. I was fearful that I would be arrested for purchasing or cultivating it. This fear was only heightened by my knowledge that people sat in California prisons for marijuana possession.
13. Although I grew up in the 1960's, I was not a child of the '60's. I did not smoke pot. I was raised in the nation's Capitol. My father, a statistician, was Deputy Director of the Census Bureau and served as a personal adviser to Presidents Eisenhower and Nixon. My mother received her Masters Degree in bacteriology in the 1930's and went on to get a second Masters Degree in Cytotechnology from Johns Hopkins in the 1960's. I was sent to Catholic school and believed what the nuns had taught us: that if you smoked marijuana you would soon graduate to harder drugs and wind up in back alleys.
14. Over the past 9 years, every health care provider involved with my cancer treatment -- including 8 oncologists -- knew that I relied upon medical marijuana in conjunction with my cancer therapy. They knew that I used marijuana because I told them so. I told them I used medical marijuana because I needed to know that it did not impede the effectiveness of the other medications and chemicals with which I was being treated. None of my physicians -- not one -- ever suggested that I should refrain from using marijuana. After the Compassionate Use Act took effect, my oncologist provided me with a written recommendation for medical marijuana.
15. After the federal government issued its threats against physicians who recommend medical marijuana I became concerned for my doctors who have treated and cared for me for so many years. Because I could not bear the thought of endangering my doctor or the health of his other patients who, like me, depended on him, I phoned my doctor and offered to return his recommendation for medical marijuana. The government's policy has not driven a wedge between my doctor and me, but has made me feel less comfortable communicating with my doctor about an essential part of my cancer treatment.
16. I am now 50 years old. I have battled but have not completely beaten cancer. I have good days and bad days. Four weeks ago I had a chest tube removed that I had carried inside me for the previous year and one-half. I am thankful to be alive. By surviving this long, I have surpassed the expectations of my doctors and nurses. I am acutely aware of the fragility of my health and do not plan far in advance.
17. It is with great pride and conviction that I chose to become a plaintiff in this lawsuit. I hope I will live long enough to see the First Amendment rights of my physicians upheld in the court of law. In the event that I do pass away before the case is resolved, I respectfully request that my name be kept on the caption of the pleadings to commemorate the experiences of my fellow cancer sufferers who have prolonged and improved the quality of their lives with medical marijuana.

I declare under penalty of perjury under the laws of the State of California, and the United States of America that the foregoing is true and correct, and that this declaration was executed on this 24th day of February, 1997 in San Francisco County, California.

Jo Daly