Being invisible in medical. by Wesley

3-13-15

I have been sick for about 10 days.  Do you know what sucks more than being sick in jail?

Nothing.

It started out with the usual flu like symptoms.  Fever, chills, body aches, etc.. - and I weathered the storm.  Then, it became sinus drainage and coughing.  Constant coughing.  I have been coughing for a week now.  Occasionally I will cough up some colorful phlegm and be okay for awhile, but then it begins anew.

Everyone hate me. Since I am wracked by coughing fits at all hours, I frequently wake people up, which they appreciate very much.

I combated all of this with ibuprofen and cough drops which I bought off commissary.

This past Wednesday, I was bent over coughing up bits and pieces of internal organs.  When I wiped away the viscera and stood up, everyone in the day room was staring at me.  "I think I'll put in a sick call,"  I said.  "Good idea," they responded.  So I did.

I have no faith in the medical staff here.  When I came in here last August it took them 3 TB test attempts to actually remember to read it, or to remember to write down that they'd read it.  On the 3rd try I went to the window when the nurse was handing out pills in the cell I lived in back then and asked her to take note of the negative results...she looked at me like I was asking for her daughter's hand in marriage.

I know it's terribly hard to hand out pills and mock the health of we inmates 24 hours a day, and I don't want to tax your powers of observation, but could you just look at my arm where your staff keeps injecting me?

In November, a 45 year old man died here in custody.  He'd complained of blood in his stool repeatedly, but the medical staff ignored him.  He's dead now, of "natural causes" according to the Houston Chronicle.  Did I mention he's 45?

They called me down to medical to address my sick call request.  I joined the procession of diabetics who go down to medical several times a day.  We got into the infirmary and sat down.  I saw a guy name Gomez who works in laundry because he doesn't speak English and the officer in charge of laundry doesn't speak Spanish, but whatever.

The officer monitoring the goings on told us to sit on one bench.  The diabetics tested themselves, injected insulin given by the nurses and disappeared one by one with guards.  The crowd dwindled.  We were told to sit on another bench if we hadn't been seen.  I moved.  I told Gomez to move too since no one had acknowledged his presence.

They brought in a couple more guys as the crowd dwindled away.  One could hardly walk and he started vomiting on the floor in this 50 square foot waiting room.  Awesome.  He asked for ibuprofen and they told him to put in a sick call.  They ushered him quickly back to his cell to continue to vomit out of sight.

I asked Gomez, (in Spanish), if he was a diabetic.  He said no.  I asked why he was here and he said he didn't know.  He said they call him out everyday and then send him back without ever talking to him.

The guard told us move to the first bench again if we hadn't been seen.  It was only me and Gomez, but I moved and told him to move too.  We were alone.

I heard the nurse tell the guard that they were still waiting on lab result for Gomez.  He would go.  They didn't tell him that , of course, and he doesn't speak English.  Did I mention that?

So the guard says, "Okay, let's go."  I said, "I haven't been seen."  The guard seemed shocked and checked his list.  I'd been there almost 2 hours and moved from one bench to another and they never even bothered to speak to me as I coughed up my lungs in their vomit filled waiting area.

So no, I will not be going back to medical.

In a seemingly unrelated, yet related event, my attorney met with the prosecutor yesterday in Harris county.  He was told that Harris County would not deal with me until I am down there.  This tidbit, coupled with Montgomery County will not send me down until a deal is made with Harris County.

The bottom line: I'm still in exactly the same position I was 2 months ago, nothing has changed.

I laid in my bunk last night with despair hiding in the shadows of my peripheral vision.  I suppressed the urge to scream, or to cry.  I wanted to punch the air, to rage at my impotence.

I woke up this morning coughing up the same phantom obstructions.  I ate another cough drop to give myself 5 minutes of relief.  I swallowed some ibuprofen because I just don't know what else to do.