PORTLAND, Ore. — Dr. Phillip Leveque feels his patients' pain. Ten years ago, an accidental overdose of spinal anesthetic left his feet and tailbone with a burning sensation. He's also been in three bad auto accidents.
Leveque tried painkillers, but they didn't work. So he simply lives with it, stoking up on sleeping pills at night. But for patients with chronic pain, Leveque offers another alternative: marijuana. Well more than 1,000 patients have gotten authorization from the 77-year-old osteopath to use the drug under Oregon's 2-year-old medical marijuana law. That's 40% of all authorizations in the state and eight times more than any other doctor.
State health authorities would like to know why, and they have launched a controversial inquiry into Leveque's patient records.
The answer, Leveque said, is simple:
"When you step down on your foot, you feel pressure. When I step, I feel fire. . . . I know exactly what [people who get medical marijuana cards] are going through."
Oregon's inquiry has raised troubling questions about doctor-patient confidentiality in a state that, unlike California, maintains a central registry of all medical marijuana patients and the doctors who oversee them.
Under temporary regulations issued in response to Leveque's hefty client base, new medical marijuana patients in Oregon--including more than 800 who have pending applications for access to the drug signed by the Molalla, Ore., doctor--will have to allow authorities to review their records or face automatic denial.
Leveque's supporters say that the state is placing roadblocks in the way of a doctor who has been the only resource for many patients turned away by physicians leery of dealing with marijuana cases.
Since Oregon in 1998 became one of nine states with laws allowing patients to use small amounts of marijuana for medicinal purposes, Leveque has run makeshift clinics in towns all over the state. He's also offered telephone and mail consultations to patients in areas too remote for a personal visit.
"My name has spread through the jungle telegraph: people who know people who know people," Leveque said. "I have physicians [as patients]. I had a phone call from a dentist who wants to get a marijuana card. Lots of nurses. Lots of doctors' wives. . . . I must have about 30 ladies with PMS [premenstrual syndrome] that have cards."
