Blood In The Bathroom

I’m at the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility (MSDF), an institution in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS), participating in the Earned Release Program (ERP).  On Wednesday we don’t have ERP groups scheduled so we sat in our cells or dayroom.  Nothing much happened until that night.  ERP group member Scott Bunker had a problem come up that could be painful.  He hadn’t  been able to go to the bathroom and the little bit he could was bloody.  He finally went up and told the guard on duty.  The guard wasn’t exactly the model of compassion as he had him take a urine sample cup and scoop out the bloody water out of the toilet to send to the Heath Services Unit (HSU).  But Bunker was told to submit a blue medical request to be seen which he did.  Apparently that night he was up several times as he was in a huge amount of pain, his privates were swelling and though he felt like he had to go, he couldn’t.  I got up for my shower at 5 am as usual.  As I walked to the shower I heard the third shift guard tell Bunker to come to the desk.  After I got out of the shower and had put my laundry in the washer, I saw the swampers by the bathroom wearing gloves and mopping the floor.  There was blood all over.  At Bunker’s cell the other guard had gone in with a yellow bag and gloves emerging with it full of items that had been bloodied.  I would have thought swampers and guards would have had more protection than gloves.  The guards offered to send him to the hospital but he declined.  I urged him to reconsider.  Bleeding like this just doesn’t heal itself.  At least now though HSU would see him right away Thursday morning.  That morning for our group ERP group leader Ms. Grey showed us videos on methamphetamine abuse.  The first was Living In Shadows The Innocent Victims of Meth and The Meth Epidemic produced by PBS.  Both were quite good.  But Ms. Grey was clearly in a bad mood.  During the time after the videos we had left over before lunch she went off on people for not understanding how to develop goals and objectives for Phase II based on SMART.  At one point she asked me to assist ERP group members Kevin House and Mark Hogan develop theirs.  But then Larry Sands spoke up complaining that she approves our goals and then changes her mind.  She went off on Sands, telling him not to put that on her and how he always has something to say whenever he’s criticized.  The problem is Sands is right.  She has given conflicting signals to people including me.  But that wasn’t the real issue.  She had obviously been talked to by somebody who had gotten involved as a result of Sands complaints to others.  The tension between the two is intense which made us uncomfortable but there’s been a lot of that lately so its kind of becoming normal.  After lunch we watched another good video Methamphetamine and Drug Endangered Children.  Bunker returned to group during this time with HSU having prescribed antibiotics.  They also reduced the huge amounts of ibuprofen he had been prescribed for his back since as a rule they won’t give out painkillers to inmates if at all possible.  As the night progressed his problem again began to reappear.  I am worried for him.  Tomorrow is another Graduation Day for another ERP group.  I’m looking forward to seeing something good happen here. 

You Don’t Hug In Prison!

I am at the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility (MSDF), an institution in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS), participating in the Earned Release Program (ERP).  After dealing with the crabby guard, our ERP group leader, Ms. Grey, showed up along with intern Nikita and after our normal breathing exercises and prayer we began Week 13 processing of the ERP goals and objectives that had been decided on.  First up, just like when the autobiographies were read was group member Larry Sands.  His goals and objectives dealt with anger and grief dealing with the deaths of his son and father.  Just like when he read his autobiography, Ms. Grey jumped on him for failing to apply the books he’d been given to read to himself.  To be honest she was right.  He really hadn’t.  Next up was John Lloyd.  Lloyd has had something kind of odd go on with him as he’s lost partial muscle control in his left eye, unable to move his left eye all the way to the left.  I became alarmed over the possibility that a minor stroke might be taking place so I encouraged him to submit a blue form to the Heath Services Unit (HSU) on Sunday.  Plus his color is ashen.  I hope I’m wrong.  Anyway, it was kind of interesting, Lloyd read his essay on grief over the death of his father copying a poem from his book and essentially doing a book report as well but Ms. Grey complimented his efforts.  Then he read the letter to his deceased father and broke down in tears several times throughout.  Where Ms. Grey and Nikita were sitting they couldn’t see it but group members Russ Johnson and Kevin House sat and mocked him for doing so.  At the end she motioned group member Scott Bunker to go up and give him a hug.  The people in the room, already silent, shifted their eyes downward and everyone was uncomfortable.  He did give him the hug startling Lloyd.  There was little follow up to the reading of the letter.  We broke for lunch.  Sands caught up with me going on and on about how Ms. Grey was targeting him.  He clearly wanted my agreement.  I just told him she’s trying to reach you, trying not to take the bite.  Prior to the group starting after lunch the topic was the hug given by Bunker to Lloyd.  To Bunker’s credit, he said he didn’t mind.  But Lloyd and the rest just ripped on Bunker and Ms. Grey for it.  As is my custom I sat and listened.  But I knew on one level they were right.  You don’t hug in prison period and that includes MSDF.  If we were in a treatment group outside here I suspect it would be a different situation.  After lunch it was my turn.  First I read my essay on forgiveness based in part on the book Houses of Healing where I told of my path to forgive my biological father for the things that happened.  I read my second essay on the book of Anger Is a Choice by Tim Lahaye.  I also read my letter forgiving my father which came out more confrontational than forgiving.  Ms. Grey seemed ok with what I’d done and there wasn’t much feedback just like with everyone else except Sands.  I noted at the end that the nightmares and aversions to socializing I deal with are still there.  Later that day at mail call, I received a letter from my ex JoAnn.  She wrote she’s been dating a new guy who has been helpful to my former step-daughter Lisa.  I’m not the first guy in prison whose family’s needs are being met by a new guy.  Doesn’t make it any less painful of course.  I spent a good portion of the night unable to sleep.  I, like most of us guys in prison with families, know in the back of our mind this was going to happen.  But when faced with the reality it still hurts.  The next morning after a couple hours of sleep I prayed for their happiness and asked for the strength to put it behind me and to look forward.  After all, what else can I do?

My First Community Meeting

I’m at the Milwaukee Secure Detention Facility (MSDF), an institution in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS), participating in the Earned Release Program (ERP).  Fridays are a short day in the ERP program here.  They have something called “Community” at 10 am and then they’re done for the day.  Everyone was already seated when someone came and got me to join which surprised me since I don’t start ERP until December 13th.  They went through an airing of unit grievances (there were none) and housekeeping issues (there were some).  It was at this point that I was called to the guard desk and told to get ready to go to Heath Services Unit (HSU).  They have something where an inmate picks a quote and they explain why they picked it.  The quote was “Bad things happen in life so that someday something good can come.”  It was put on a big poster and hung from the top tier.  Then the inmate coming up with the quote talked of why he picked that quote.  The group was then to provide comments on what the quote meant to them.  The social worker running the group reminded them that if we didn’t participate enough she would hand out paper and make us all write something down.  Personally, I would have preferred that but that’s just me.  Then the inmate assigned the word of the day or week, I’m not sure which.  The word was “oppressed” with the quote “difficult to bear substance abuse made my life aggressive”, which was placed on a white poster on the upper tier next to the other one.  Then my cellmate, Brian Whalen, had been assigned to read a current events article and discuss it with comments following.  He did well I thought.  Overall, the comments being made felt forced to me but I could be wrong.  At that point a female guard showed up to escort me and another inmate to HSU.  We got on an elevator (another difference of any prison I’ve seen – there were no elevators) and we had to face the wall away from the guard sharing space with carts of food trays being delivered for lunch.  I go to our next stop where we were directed to stand with our backs to the wall while another inmate joined us and we continued on.  We got to HSU which has a hall for a waiting room with the wall lined by chairs then inside a desk manned by a guard.  He called out names to go in.  I was seated next to a man of 65 with a long white beard who couldn’t stop jabbering.  He was on paper for his 5th DUI and was here for rule violations (using pot) and his parole officer (PO) was trying to revoke him.  A lot of the other inmates were discussing Act 28 and the mistaken idea that once they got to Dodge Correctional Institution (DCI) the time they thought they’d be saving under Act 28 would be taken right off the top of their sentence. It reminded me much of my time in Waukesha County Jail (WCJ) where inmates would cling to such fairy tales out of sense of desperation and looking for a reason to hope.  I tried to interject and correct the information but one inmate in particular would have none of it, insisting I was wrong.  I let it go.  I understand the need to hold onto hope.  I think false hope actually helped me at times.  Weird, isn’t it?  Mercifully, I got called to see the doctor.  He was of Indian descent and spoke good English.  I waited 10 minutes before a word was said while he reviewed my file.  He then let me know another PET scan would be scheduled soon to make sure the cancer had not returned and made sure I was still on my antiviral.  I returned to my seat in the hall to await transport back to my unit.  The man I was next to had grown impatient and started repeatedly asking when he’d be seen because he didn’t want to miss lunch.  The guard who brought me to HSU returned to take me back but the guard at the desk lost patience and told her to take him back too without being seen.  He knew what that meant.  He was getting a major conduct report for being disruptive.  The entire way back he argued with this guard almost assuming an intimidating stance towards her.  She argued back which was pointless with this guy.  Finally, I got back to my unit having a cold pizza burger for lunch and very glad I’m not that loud inmate and looking forward to getting this ERP program going week after next. 

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The Gambler

I’m at the Fox Lake Minimum Correctional Institution (FMCI), a facility in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS).  We have an old man here who is from Idaho.  He had been on parole back in the eighties and had tired of the restrictions on him so he absconded (left without permission) to Idaho.  He lived there for years with no issues.  Then when he applied for social security, they wouldn’t give him his benefits after a couple checks because of the warrant from Wisconsin.  Eventually, he found himself back in the WPS.  I might have told you about him previously.  If so, I apologize.  Anyway, he is almost universally liked here.  If you want sports betting tips, this is the guy to go to.  Thus, for our purposes, he is dubbed the “Gambler”, after the Kenny Rogers song.  The Gambler had one place though where he was not appreciated by all, especially Paul, and that was at the horseshoe pits.  Outside our units front door inside the track are 2 horseshoe pits and a volleyball sand pit.  While the basketball courts to the left are popular with the black guys, the horseshoe pits are popular with the white guys.  There are exceptions but generally that’s the way it is. As usual, with group activities, I stay on the sidelines and watch.  Paul and the Gambler would often get into heated arguments about how things got scored.  The Gambler and Paul are both stubborn people so that didn’t surprise me.  A few days ago, the Gambler came in from horseshoes complaining of a backache.  It didn’t surprise me.  Horseshoes is how he spends a lot of his day.  He laid down for awhile but was up soon thereafter asking the guards to contact Health Services.  The van came and got him soon thereafter.  The following day, word spread around the unit that the Gambler was dead.  Quite a few of us were shocked and saddened.  No one like the Gambler should die in prison, far from family and friends.  Naturally, my thoughts turned to myself as well, vowing I will never die in prison and hopefully not die alone.  A sympathy card that can be ordered off canteen was being distributed around the unit though I never saw it.  Strange enough, though no inmates had turned into vultures on his possessions like they have a habit of doing.  I thought perhaps conscience would stand in the way with these circumstances this time.  Also, I noticed the guards had left his bunk undisturbed, not coming to pack up his belongings.  But I try to mind my own business and just observe, my modus operandi.  Perhaps the guards didn’t come because they hadn’t gotten word to do so yet.  The following day, a new story began to circulate, that an inmate had started the rumor that the Gambler had died.  My first thought was to wonder why anyone would do such a thing. Then I remembered, for many here to do something like that wouldn’t be a stretch at all.  Consciences are like knives.  If you allow them to get dull, they are not as effective as they could be.  They both stay sharp with daily use and maintenance.  But sure enough, later that night, the Gambler appeared.  He, in fact, had had a scare with his heart and was no on Plavix.  I was happy to see him upright and mobile.  I do hope and pray he does get to join his family before his time really does come someday.  Nobody should die alone.

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A Filling Experience

I’m at the Fox Lake Minimum Correctional Institution (FMCI), a facility in the Wisconsin Prison System (WPS).  I mentioned before that a scan had detected an abscessed tooth.  After a week had gone by and a little encouragement from a sponsor not to let this situation be ignored, I wrote a request to Health Services advising them of the referral from my oncologist, Rachel Cook, of the University Hospital in Madison, made to them. Generally it takes the Health Services some time to get around to reviewing what the doctor wrote unless they get pushed.   I also let them know I had other dental issues to be addressed.  I got up at 5 am as usual and saw my name on the list to go to HSU after count at 8 am.  Paul and 2 others also came along who had dental appointments.  We had to go over to the medium side but once out the gate we were told to wait for another inmate.  Twenty minutes later, we’re still waiting and everyone’s annoyed.  Finally, we’re on our way.  I got called in first and the dental assistant informed me I would be having a root canal performed.  It will take 3 visits.  Today they’d “file it down and put antibiotics in there”. I don’t like dentists and I’ve heard bad things about root canals.  The dentist appeared, a man in his sixties, and asked me if I wanted the tooth pulled or do a root canal.  No, I don’t want it pulled!  They numbed me up without incident and he did what he was supposed to, I guess.  I went back to the bullpen (waiting room) and awaited the others to finish.  The last words of the dentist were I’d experience some discomfort and you should “just handle it”.  I laughed to myself.  Dentists in the real world don’t talk like that but they mean the same.  They just word it nicer!  The next part is in 2 weeks.  When everyone was done we stopped at Property, picked up 2 more inmates and their property who were transferring to the minimum side, which took at least half an hour.   Once I got back, everyone asked what was going on and when I told them a root canal, they reacted like it was so painful.  So far, I don’t get it.  Maybe I will come to pay for my presumptuous attitude over the next couple of appointments!  I am in pain but its tolerable.  At least something fulfilling (no pun intended – wait, yeah that was intentional :)) will come out of my time at FMCI.  In case you were wondering, this process won’t cost me anything.  Normally, it would have cost me $7.50 co-pay out of my funds here but because it was a referral from my oncologist, I wasn’t.  The other dental work I need I will get charged the co-pay.  I’m sure many of you wish all you had was a $7.50 co-pay for dental work but as I’ve noted before inmates make very little money – forty cents an hour at most before I came to FMCI.  I’ve never been allowed to work, first because of the illness and now due to my temp status.  But I’m grateful for the treatment for cancer and medical care.  Had I not been incarcerated, would I still have gotten treatment in time, especially with the aversion to doctors I have?  There’s no way to know for sure.  But I’m grateful for the medical care, the time and expense involved to the Department of Corrections (DOC) and the taxpayers of Wisconsin.  Thank you very much.

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