Out of the Frying Pan...

 

In Spanish they say, “Mas vale malo conocido, que Bueno por conocer” to describe what has happened to us (We would have been better off with the bad we knew (the SHU) than the unknown we imagined would be better (quarantine on the Unit). Coming out of the Hole means we lost being able to take a shower whenever we wanted, but we do have control over the lights in our cell. We have a tv room, but no way to listen to shows.  We live on a huge otherwise empty Unit of prison cells and hallways where we might run laps or get out and stretch a little, but because of quarantine, we’re only allowed out of our cells three times a week for brief showers down the hall. Somehow, having a little bit of space so close, yet still denied, is worse than being locked in the SHU.

 

As I’ve mentioned before, we’ve been issued these over-sized ridiculous jumpsuits. And for some reason, on the Unit, our thin mattresses have built-in lumps at one end, intended, I suppose to serve as pillows? These lumps are maybe a half inch higher than the mattress itself, clearly pawned off on the BOP by some quack chiropractor hoping to create thousands of neck problems and more business for himself. The only safe way to sleep on these things is to lie flat on your back; otherwise you risk waking up (if you can sleep at all) with a stiff neck or with aching shoulders. A real joy!

 

There is one positive about being out of the SHU. For the first time in months, we have an unfrosted window that allows an occasional glimpse of sunlight. The view, however, leaves something to be desired. Seems to be a tennis court-sized drainage area between our Unit and the outer containing wall of the prison, dank and no doubt mosquito-infested. I’ve only seen two birds dare to land on this mini-Dismal Swamp. Perhaps we’ll see a cottonmouth emerge from the central drain – that would be entertaining!

 

In other words, pretty much the same old shit in a slightly different setting. We’ve been locked in for 76 days now, quite an ordeal for Low Security inmates accustomed to some freedom of movement.  76 days = 1,824 hours. Out of those 1,824 hours I personally have been allowed outside for a grand total of 2.5 hours, for shackled walks to the bus, the office, etc. Only a few of those precious minutes could be considered recreation time, pacing in a glorified dog kennel. But wait, if I add the cumulative shower time and phone time in the hallway over the past couple of weeks, that doubles my total time out of my cell over the past nearly 3 months!

 

Clearly, being treated this way is not healthy, physically or mentally.  It’s hard, really HARD.  Yet in denying my request for Compassionate Release last fall, the judge cited that the BOP has our situation “under control” and Covid “contained.”  I invite this worthy fellow to spend a week with us and perhaps reconsider his judgment.  Being in prison is punishment enough, but being shuffled halfway across the country and being treated like crap for months so the BOP can pretend to be doing something about the pandemic?  That is simply cruel.

 

As for the BOP’s Covid plan? “Despues de nino ahogado, tapen el pozo.” (They covered the well after the child had drowned.) But I guess the judges, lawmakers and the public are buying their BS. Living through it, I can tell you that not since the start of the lockdowns last March have I witnessed anything to make me believe that they had/have/or will have this situation under control.

 

I pluck away, trying to stay sane and healthy, doing whatever I can.  “No hay mal que por bien no venga.”  (There is nothing bad that doesn’t come for good, or as we Anglo’s say it, “Every cloud has a silver lining.”)  Well, let me tell you, this is one damn big cloud.  One can only hope that the eventual silver lining is proportional!