MY CASE FOR CONCERN AS AN INMATE IN THE ABYSS OF THE PANDEMIC
AS AN INMATE, WE ARE JUST THE FLESH OF THE INVENTORY IN THE WAREHOUSE FOR HUMANS
In the midst of this pandemic I think I have done a decent job of keeping my cool, until recently. I admit it, fear has got the best of me. All the progress I swore I had made with my anxiety, might as well have been a big lie. I shall refer to my new found condition as Pandemic Paranoia, and I must admit I was not even aware of it.
In a conversation with a loved one, I was asked what exactly I was afraid of. It was a really good question, one that I had not considered or really broke down for some reason. For a moment, I began to think maybe I was overreacting. We finished our conversation but the wheels in my head we’re already turning because this new awareness had come upon me.
I started to analyze my new found anxiety brought on by this pandemic and decided to sit down and write it all out. That is what I do when I need something sorted out in my brain, I write like a maniac as I sort out my emotions from facts, and reactions from realities. I wrote like my life depended on it because my anxiety had ignited my fight or flight mechanism and I hated how I felt, I just wanted to get a grip of reality. When I had finished, I read what I had written and decided if my loved ones read it they would have a better understanding of what was going on and why the Covid 19 had sparked so much panic for me and for other prisoners. So I patted myself on the back, took out all the profanity and names, edited out my incoherent rants, slapped a title at the top, and called it this week’s blog… So here it is, my case for concern as an inmate in the abyss of the pandemic.
I had a lot of questions for myself. I began to really think about what it is that scares me. Am I afraid to get Covid 19? Do I think I won’t survive? Am I afraid of the lockdown and the loss of even more freedom and fresh air? How do I get a hold of myself and get back to calm? These were valid questions that I needed to get to the bottom of my own good. So what am I truly afraid of? I like to begin on a positive note and try to anchor my feelings and emotions to hope.
I started to go through the reasons to not freak out. I am fit. I take care of myself and run 6 times a week almost every week as long as we can be outside to accommodate that schedule. I’m not diabetic nor am I in any other high risk category that makes Covid 19 that much more dangerous. Well, I think… I’m just not your typical Covid victim. Normally I would approach something like this wearing my “I’m a badass” mask. The one I love to wear that leads me to believe I am invincible. Nothing can hurt me, I’m a cartoon character and I will just get back up again as the birds fly around my head in circles…
Then reality sets in, and I remember where I am… If you were stranded on a deserted island, you probably would steer clear of doing things that might result in the need of medical attention. You may also spend extra time in prayer asking God to keep you free of any major medical need or major complication because, well once again, you have no one to help you on your deserted island where you are TRAPPED.
When I asked myself what I was actually afraid of, I realized that my biggest fear was that the federal prison parallels a deserted island in terms of medical care and past personal experiences and witnessing others begging for help was causing the bulk of my anxiety.
When I first got here we spent a long time processing into prison. One of the steps was to see the doctor… My brother had been diagnosed with colorectal cancer when I had turned myself into the marshals a little over a year prior to this. His diagnosis was still very fresh in my mind. I had some concerns about my own health knowing how important it is to pay attention to genetics when it comes to cancer. So when it was my turn to talk to the doctor. I voiced my concern and expressed my interest in getting checked for this type of cancer. The doctor stopped and looked at me with disgust, he told me they wouldn’t consider something like that until I was 50. 1 was 41 at the time and I remember kind of panicking at the time I left. I would be out before I was 50 but I was uneasy about not getting checked that whole time. I’m actually still hanging on to that ignorance, because it truly is bliss. When I start to worry I just take my ignorance and snuggle with it like a safety blanket.
I have never gone into depth about the enigma that is the medical department in federal prison. I have complained a bit, dropped some hints, and said some things but not fully divulged into my views and experiences on medicine. When I think about this pandemic, I realized that I am specifically most afraid of the incompetency and the lack of compassion from the people that are supposed to assist us with our medical needs.
Inmates have been suffering from the lack of medical care in federal prisons since the beginning of time. This pandemic has illuminated that injustice before our eyes, and as an inmate, it is undeniable how desperate we are for a change with medicine. Why haven’t we been fighting for this before the pandemic hit? Why do we allow the improper treatment to continue? The one time I went to medical after being burned at work, the doctor told me to put ice on it and slammed the door in my face. The one time I went to the dentist, the dentist met me at the door and told me to put some Sensodyne on my broken tooth and he would put me on the list for when the pandemic was over to maybe see me, that was over 8 months ago. This is my personal experience with medicine here. There is nothing warm and fuzzy about it, I would be delusional to believe that if I got Covid 19 and actually needed medical assistance, I would have anyone to help me. There is nothing that has happened in my two and a half years here to make me think I would be taken care of and that makes me feel rather panicked, helpless, and if I ponder on it too long it erodes the integrity of the hope I hold on to.
Throughout my life I have had to go to the hospital or urgent care just a handful of times for whatever reason. I either went by an ambulance or was taken for help by a loved one right away. Here, I can’t just go if I need help. I have to beg. Then I may have to wait for shift change, and hope the next person might just be kind enough to help. I have seen this over and over with other inmates that truly needed help and it terrifies me to think about it. I can’t imagine that fear and helplessness…
In the free world if you need something simple, you can just go to a pharmacy and help yourself. People with asthma can go get breathing treatments and inhalers so that they can actually take a deep breath. Here you have to beg and suffer. If whatever you need isn’t one of the few items on the commissary, you just have to know nothing is going to happen in a hurry. My friend suffered with a UTI for 5 days before she was able to get medicine and because she was made to wait so long she suffered that much more.
Let me provide a few more examples to really drive my point home. When I first got here, after my concern about being screened for cancer was brushed to the side, I met a lady that had just been diagnosed with cancer. She had complained and felt a lump in her breast in February, this was July… For some reason, they don’t like to give you your test results here. Your family can’t call to get them, there is nothing you can do but wait and worry and beg. When she finally got her results back after months of fighting for them, she had stage 4 breast cancer. Precious time that took away any fighting shot that a treatment had, was stolen from her. Medical proceeded to drag their feet even longer after the diagnosis was back. It was another two months without treatment before they took her by helicopter to a medical facility to finally receive treatment. She died a month later in late October. I will never forget her or the unity of the inmates in joining together to pray for her. The entire compound came out to join together in prayer and it was beautiful but what she went through was unnecessary and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Not long after this tragedy a sweet older lady came in with her walker distraught because she had brought all of her medication like they told her to and they had thrown it all the way right in front of her eyes. They had denied some of her prescribed medication and what they did approve she had to wait for them to give to her. She brought with her medical records from her doctor that medical here refused to abide by.
Even though she was distraught, she was a peppy, sweet lady that immediately became everyone’s grandma. We loved to talk to her. She was kind and loving just like a grandma and she was adored. Which made watching her demise that much harder.
Without the medications she had been surviving on she quickly went down hill before our eyes. She became confined to her bed barely able to get to the dining hall for her meals. Food service couldn’t send meals because the medical wouldn’t sign off on her inability to make it over there to eat. Inmates snuck her food and fed her out of their lockers. She was so sick and we really didn’t know what was happening but day after day watching her cry in pain, and even now it makes me cry just to write this.
She could barely get out of bed and really couldn’t shower herself. She had terrible bed sores and then began to lose control of her bowels and bladder which led to infected sores that grew rapidly up her back. Medical denied her and she was terribly embarrassed. It was left to inmates to clean her up because this isn’t a handicap friendly facility. They will not provide companions for help for those that need it and they won’t give supplies to inmates that take help into their own hands. No gloves and before the pandemic, we had no bleach… I don’t know how many times she was found crashed on the bathroom floor and had to have a medical emergency before the administration finally got a transfer put in for her.
She was truly dying and medical could care less. So many inmates helped writing up remedies and complaints that helped the persuasion of the administration. However, none of this should have taken place and it sure shouldn’t have drug on for as many months as it did. When she was finally transferred, she had major heart surgery and her life was saved and I hear she is doing well. She spends her time living with other inmates that need compassion like she did.
Then you have the examples of staph infection that is highly contagious. The inmate must continue to beg for help as the infection takes over whatever part of their body that it has invaded. Some we have watched and marked the area as it grew with a magic marker to show the time and how rapidly it was taking over. Even that does nothing. One girl was so bad a lieutenant was called and she was told to put a hot compress on it and go to bed. Later that night, the inmate was found crashed on the bathroom floor and was taken to the hospital where she spent the night getting IV antibiotics because it was so bad. A highly contagious infection was just easily dismissed, just like that.
Or how about the friend of mine that bled for months. She went to the doctor over and over begging for help and every time they sent her away. She went from a vibrant lady that played volleyball like a beast to what looked like the walking dead. Life was being drained from her and no one cared they had the audacity to look at her and show her away. Luckily she had a family that was in the medical field and they intervened to the point she was taken to the hospital and taken care of.
In a prison camp full of women, only the people that beg long enough get mammograms and pap smears. There is no concern with family history or your own personal medical history. There is a five year waiting list to get your teeth cleaned. If you break your dentures or glasses it will be two years before you get your glasses fixed and your dentures will never be. Here you are in the wild wild west… I can go on and on and I have struggled on how far I should go with this. But I think this is enough. I do want to be clear, I can continue this discussion for many more pages… Bottom line, it’s scary being at the mercy of people that have demonstrated over and over, that they have no mercy.
In conclusion, if you have a loved one that was incarcerated during this pandemic, please try and wrap your brain around the level of stress and anxiety they are experiencing. Prison is stressful but throw a pandemic as a cherry on top and it becomes a whole new level of punishment.
