RISE, A Modern Guide for the Purpose Driven Woman Spring 2014 | Page 48

shock. Nonstop you think of
your kids with no way to check
on them. You begin to imagine
runny noses; what are they doing right now; are they ok? You
begin to imagine illnesses in your
family, something happening to
someone and the utter feeling
of isolation and dread consumes
you. And it is only Day One.
I was taken up the hall to a
small room where a guard went
through my paper bag of clothing, logged everything and put
it in a clear shrink wrapped
package. Property. I was given
a property slip which was now
my only possession. If you were
smart enough to bring all those
“whites” with you, they would be
given to you in a paper bag in 2-3
days. I was told to keep my slip, I
would need it when I left. When
I left. I would hold that thing
every day and long for the day I
gave it back because that would
mean I was going home.
You sign a lot of things in jail
and the guards get very annoyed when you read them. I
read everything I signed. They
were always annoyed with me.
Buried in the list of your possessions and a disclaimer about
them not having any responsibility nor you any recourse if they
lose or misplace them is one line,
“By signing this you consent to
the opening and inspection of
all correspondence.” Bizarre I
thought how I was signing that
they accepted my property and
that little line was in there. Almost everything you sign in jail
is like that. Buried in a form for
something specific is something
that doesn’t pertain to that form
in any obvious way.
A few hours later I was taken

from my cell again. This time
to see the nurse who took vitals,
did a urine pregnancy test and
asked for a basic medical history. Then she administered a
TB test. There’s something really frightening about getting a
needle in a dirty jail. Remember
in Tommy Boy when Chris Farley
says, “A lot of people go to school
for 7 years.” and David Spade
responds, “Yea, they’re called
doctors.”?...well these doctors
and nurses were probably the
bottom 1% of a 15 year plan. I
told her I was on prescription
EnBrel injections weekly for my
Rheumatoid Arthritis...I told her
this like I was at a real doctor
talking to a real nurse who gave
a crap. In this system they know
damn well that no one cares what
they do with you and definitely
no one is out there campaigning for better medical care for
inmates. That costs money...and
these companies running these
jails are only making billions.
They hope you don’t die on their
watch but even if you do, at most
they’ll face a few weeks off the
job, tops; even if they kill you
themselves. You are an inmate in
a jail, society doesn’t judge them,
it judges you. You are getting
what you deserve, but in reality
how is that accurate? I am in
the same jail as murderers and
rapists, even housed with them
right in my cell...different crimes
but the same experience in jail.
She told me they would get
something from my doctor for
the RA, that never happened in
the 3 months I was there. I was
sent back to my cell. I enjoyed
being at the nurse, she talked to
me and she had a clock. It was
8pm, 11 hours in custody; 8, 734
to go. In jail, time takes on new
meaning. You will add up your
time left on your sentence; you

will calculate it in minutes, hours,
weeks...whatever makes it sound
shorter to you. You will talk to
every inmate about them and
anyone they know, heard about
or can make-up a story about
the amount of time they got and
what they did. You will find hope
in nothing and cling to a count
down in your head, accurate or
inaccurate, whatever gets you
closer to tomorrow because that’s
at least a day closer to home.
A few hours later I was photographed and fingerprinted...
which is now done by an ill
functioning digital system. If
you have any form of arthritis
you know how achy your bones
always are and having someone
trying to get a clear print by
pressing all their weight on your
finger into a glass plate, becomes
painful after about the 20th time.
There is no Ibuprofen or Tylenol
in jail. If you are at a jail with a
“good” commissary you’ll eventually be able to order about 5
Ibuprofen 100mg a week, but
that is around 3 weeks in and
you are going to pay $1 a pill for
them. So when faced with buying a packet of tuna or 5 Ibuprofens, you get the tuna...because
the jailhouse food makes you fat,
sick and sleepy...and that is when
it is eatable.
I was directed up the hallway
and given another identical
size large orange jumpsuit, this

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