I think POWs and possibly kidnap victims are treated better than us “offenders” here at MSDF. We receive bottom tier, next to nothing healthcare if we’re lucky enough to receive any at all. …
47 sleepless nights
My personal experience starts on my arrival on October 21. A little background information, I have a terrible acid reflux, it keeps me awake at night. I [told medical staff about this problem.] Fast forward to December 6, I finally saw the doctor. If you’re keeping score at home, that’s 47 sleepless nights. [I was given what] I believe to be a placebo or sugar pill because the effect is null and void. …Maybe, just maybe, I’ll receive the real stuff another 47 days from now, or not at all. If I was a betting man, my money’s on the latter. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.
‘I’ve always considered breathing to be kind of important’
My next pleasant health services encounter came when I contracted a cold — coughing, sneezing, fever, stuffy nose, all your essential flu symptoms. To my amazement I was seen [the day after I submitted a health services request]. My nurse and Savior’s first words to me were, “I don’t see you coughing now.” She had clearly mistaken me for her poodle at home thinking I could do it on command. However I told her I was able to sit and speak. That night I was given eight pills, no name, no box, just a pack of eight round red pills with instructions to take every four hours. My thoughts were, if they can cure this cold in eight pills and 32 hours they can surely cure cancer. I see myself as an open-minded individual so I gave this mystery pill a chance, which I admit is my fault. I should know better than to trust medical staff after being let down before. Within 15 minutes of swallowing the first pill, I was introduced to terrible pain throughout my esophagus when attempting to swallow. My throat began to close up, making it difficult to breathe. I’m not one to complain, but I’ve always considered breathing to be kind of important. I’m no rocket scientist but I think living and breathing go hand-in-hand, but I have been wrong before.
I hit the “medical emergency button,” the one reserved for “medical emergencies.” I explained to the clown on the other end of the line my malfunction. His response, “They ain’t going to come up here for no neck pain,” would have taken my breath away if I had breath. … I spent the whole night awake and in pain until the 6:15 count when I was able to obtain some ibuprofen from an inmate who will remain nameless. I realize the blatant rule violation on my part—we are not allowed to pass things at count time. I overlook this minor infraction the same way MSDF overlooks policies, procedures and federal guidelines. It’s a give-and-take relationship, the more rights and liberties they take from me the less I give a shit about their rules, which brings me to my next point.
Released as minimum risk, reclassified as high risk upon revocation
Although I left a minimum in October 2016, MSDF has classified me as high risk (!?). This is the same case, same time, same channel. Nothing has changed, yesterday is just like today, is going to be just like tomorrow. And on this high-risk floor we are not afforded the same amenities as other floors.
High-risk floor restrictions
For starters we can’t order any meat on canteen—no tuna, no meat sticks, no nothing. So at night when your stomach meets your back for a night out on the town, we only have the solitude of chips and noodles to combat the hunger pains. Mmm starches and carbs (Homer Simpson voice). We can purchase no clothing with the exception of thermal top and bottom. We have a testament on our wall stating we are to receive clean socks and drawers on Monday and Fridays… That’s “clean” underwear and socks, two pairs for seven days. That’s already ridiculous… However they don’t always show up when they’re supposed to. And when they do, they’re likely out of either socks or drawers. The solution should be: wash your own clothes right? I wipe my own ass, I can wash my own clothes… Only I can’t. On this “high-risk” floor, we can’t order detergent. The DOC gives us one micro bar of soap every Sunday, very generous, I concur. If you’re indignant that leaves you with the choice of clean clothes or a clean ass. I’ll give you a moment, if you would like to phone a friend or use a 50-50.
Limited physical activity, cramped cells
We’re only allowed out of our cells for about 2 1/2 hours a day, which is usually less because it’s extremely difficult to count to 60. Thank you Milwaukee Public Schools! We have a gym, and by “gym” I mean a room with nothing but a ping pong table with a few shark bites in it. But they call it a gym so I will too. However if we are judging the book by its cover my cell could also be labeled the gym for they have the same amount of workout equipment — none. Laundry is passed out in the gym and Bible study and Muslim services are also conducted in the gym. So our time for physical activity is constantly stripped from us due to the beautiful design of this place. When you bring it up to staff they say clean clothes and religion are a priority, but not enough of a priority to show up on the days they’re supposed to? “MSDF, we always follow the rules, sometimes.”
Alan: If this place crumbled to the ground, even while I’m in it, I wouldn’t mind
I realize I’ve been rather negative, let me focus on the positives. If you enjoy sailing MSDF is the place for you… This concludes my list of positives, and by positive I mean another negative. We have two-man cells with three men in them. They called this plastic cot, stack-a-bunk, a boat. They set it right in your cell on the floor restricting your movement. Our quarters are already tiny but with three gents you’re forced to do a field sobriety test, heel to toe, to use the restroom or exit the cell. This place sucks, if it fell, and crumbled to the ground, even while I’m in it, I wouldn’t mind. I have the peace of mind knowing that no one else will have to suffer.
Held on allegations
My PO incarcerated me due to someone in my inner circle called her and told her I wasn’t staying at my approved residence and that I was smoking the devil’s lettuce. Otherwise known as allegations. This letter is extremely passive aggressive over a few hours let alone 60+ days here. It wears you down, like I was in the title fight and this might be my last round.