I try, as always each early morning, not to slam my steel door shut as I leave. Men, prisoners sleep very near. I try to ease myself and get some hot water for my black coffee-every morning-I try and start each and every morning alone. Just me, my coffee and my thoughts. Somedays it feels like that’s all I have.

This morn though as I walk, a voice called out to me from a cell…
“George, George, I’m dizzy and can’t hardly breath” He was holding his chest as well.
I put my cup down and went over to him. “Can you make it down the stairs Bo”? I asked
“I’ll try” said Bo
Slowly we went down, I could feel the sweat on his skin. At the bottom of the stairs, I placed him in a chair. I grabbed some old newspapers and started fanning him… two other inmates joined in.
“Guard, guard, medical problem, I believe it’s his heart” I said to the guard on duty. He quickly radioed for help…
TWENTY minutes later, still no help other than the fanning. Bo was getting pale and sweating quite heavy.
“Guard, he’s dying here” – the guard again radioed for help. Moments later a mobile cart with two staff drove right by. What is going on I ask, myself.
I run down a ways and get the unit stretcher. I, along with the other two inmates, who by the way are pretty sick themselves, load Bo on to it, and make the 150 yard or so dash to medical. Medical took him right in. We rested. I got the two some water, and we rested a little more before heading back. None of has seen Bo since… no word either

This is happening everyday in prisons across America. Is it abuse?? some say yes, some say no. I live it no matter. One would have to at least agree that no matter what you call it, it’s all due to the over-crowding. You can bet on that.
My advise, walk the line, else, you’ll learn about the this 4th world.

I am here today in medical, to find out if my surgery for a hernia has been scheduled yet. I try to stay in shape by working out daily, but that’s hard, when I suffer with this pain. A pain I have been trying to have corrected for over 2 years.

Life in prison has it’s highs and lows. Sitting here waiting is one of the lows.

As I sit waiting, I look about me at the ill, some very ill. Some have this blank expression on their face. I know, and they know it’s just a matter of time. At each prison I have been to over the last 2 decades, many have died. At one prison I quit counting at 15. Men and woman die, sitting, waiting, just as I sit and wait today. We wait because the federal system does not have any money. No money because too many of us, sit and wait.

Getting to an outside hospital, or clinic is hard, one has to be near death.

I wish not to be near death. I wish to be treated as a human being. I wonder, if I growl like a beast, will they treat me quicker, or will I just sit and wait.