Click images for desktop size: "Fireworks" by Clarence Holbrook Carter
I've been reading about people who are addicted to amputation. One fellow went so far as to pack his leg in dry ice destroying it to the point of it requiring his desired amputation.
'The way my arm and right shoulder are behaving I suddenly have empathy for what I originally regarded as bizarre as Cronenberg's "Crash" fixation.
It has become the center of my life. I have to twist and squirm in bed to try and find a position where the shoulder hurts less enough to permit sleep, of course I move and wake up with riveting pain and start the procedure all over again.
The arm is now my major obsession. Its the second worst pain I can ever recall in my life. The leader is still the second chemo therapy. At least the shoulder isn't making me go bald!
I made it worse last night, sitting on skype with my friend for 3 hours. That has to be monitored a bit better. I got a call today from the Food Stamp people. I've all cool and will receive 200 a month through December. I have to report any changes in my life, like mainly finding a job. Depending on the wages I might still be eligible for benefits.
July 3, 2009
As usual I was up before dawn. I watched the flock of birds foraging for food in the grasses. I'm not sure what sort of birds they are. They remind me most of a bird I nursed back to health years ago; a cedar winged wax bill. I liked that bird and I like watching these guys so I think of them as cedar winged wax bills. That might even be what they are.
The sun had not made an appearance yet when my cell was opened and I was told to clear my stuff out right now. Immigration was coming for me; or "Get your s___ spic. They're throwing your stinking a__ out of here."
My first impulse was a small rush of panic. I thought I was to get more notice. I wondered if they'd
Click images for desktop size: "Cape Cod Morning" by Edward Hopper
called my friend and let her know what was happening.
I was marched downstairs to discharge and thrown into another cell. I sat in this cell for a couple of hours. The place was as dark and dank as admitting had been. A bit better lit perhaps but still no way to know what time it was. I'm guessing it was between 8 and 9 AM when they finally marched me over to an open changing room. A guard flung a blue bag of stuff he'd been dragging on the floor at me. It was the clothes I'd entered wearing. Still no shoe laces and no belt. They were musty but welcome.
I toyed with the idea of swiping the stupid bright orange T-Shirt but decided it wasn't worth the pay off. None of this bright orange clothing made any mention of Maplehurst Correctional Center. I'd be ashamed of it too.
Wearing most of my own clothes I was marched back to the cell. I was starting to feel both the lack of any water, breakfast and most importantly my meds. I yelled at a lieutenant about my meds. He
glared at me like I was a chimpanzee masturbating at the zoo.
About 15 minutes later I got his response. I was taken out of my cell and placed in a line with five other hispanics. None of them spoke English. I got yelled at to stop talking but I figured what were they going to do, "throw me out faster!"
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All six of us were hand cuffed with hand cuffs that had only one link in between the cuffs. A thick leather belt was slapped around our waists and cinched. The handcuffs were snapped into a link on the belt. Manacles with about two feet of chain between our ankles were snapped on our legs. A chain was run from the leg manacles to the clip on the belt. The six of us were then chained together with about two feet of chain between each of us.
We were to be transported to the detention center in Toronto . . . Clearly we were very dangerous. I could tell the fellow next to me was dead set on getting a job. The other four looked like workers too. Canadian guards are terrified of people who might at any second start working, hence the insane inhumane precautions.
The only other person I'd ever seen this elaborately trussed up was Richard Ramierez, the Night Stalker, the serial killer who confessed to six random slaughters. Logically we were as dangerous as he was.
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One of the guards made a joke, "Beaners on a rope." The guards all chuckled. I don't get the refinements of bigoted guard humour.
We trudged along the concrete discharge area. We went about twenty feet when I was uncuffed from the line and told to stand in a cell. I was disappointed. I figured I was being moved to a detention center, out of prison prior to be returned to the USA. Now I figured that they'd made a mistake. The call had come down, "Get all the beaners ready for transport," and the sub human guards just assumed since I had a hispanic surname that I was part of the group. Either that or I personally was so dangerous that they needed to truss me up to move me to a new cell about 10 feet from my old one.
I waited some more. The guards all stood around smoking. Someone dumped the rest of my belongings into a plastic bag. I was given receipts to sign. The guard covered everything except the signature line and told me to sign. I asked what I was signing. He threatened to club me if I didn't
shut up. I signed Donald Duck, which is how I sign anything I don't want to sign and duress and physical threats are the alternatives.
After another hour or so two squat little rent-a-cops showed up. I knew they were for me. RENT-A-COPS!
We went through the elaborate trussing procedure again, all the chains. I had to carry all my belongings in their transparent garbage bag while I hobbled along. Suddenly an old guard, a big guy who stank of stale beer and corruption shoved me from behind. He drove my head into a wall then ripped off my shoes.
Ostensibly he was pretending to check my toes for weapons . . . because I might have made one in my hours in his discharge cell. It was a move to humiliate and to hurt me. He was trying to break my toes. I fell when he jerked my foot out. His hand got tangled in the hobble chain. I admit I'm sorry he didn't break a finger or something. He started to try and kick me while I was down but I think he wasn't dead certain the rent-a-cops would back him up.
The two squat guys led me to a van. It was designed for six passengers. It was caged. I was chained to my seat. I said, "Isn't this a bit overkill? I mean I'm going to the USA!"
"Just procedure," they said in perfect unison.
I enjoyed the ride. I nearly gave them cardiac arrest when I saw a sign for "Wayne Gretzky's
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Winery". I blurted out "He's got a winery!?!"
The driver nearly lost control of the van. I expected them to draw their guns.
I just enjoyed the sights until we hit Niagara Falls. Then I had a moment of panic. For some reason they pulled into a seedy rundown shopping center. They pulled around the back and turned down an alley. I thought this is where they kill me. I managed to shrug off the seat chain. I didn't plan to just sit and let them shoot me. I was convinced that no one knew where I was (which was accurate) and murder certainly seemed well within the agenda of the Canadian government.
They stopped at a narrow gate, just about 4 inches wider than the van. There wasn't another person or even a window in sight. I figured I'd twist and kick. I hoped the chain would add some weight and damage.
One rent-a-cop got out and opened the gate. He went and stood behind the van as the driver pulled into this tiny space. I relaxed a bit, but only a little. A door opened and the driver fussed moving the
van back and forth till the van door and the building door lined up, otherwise there was no way to get me out of the thing.
I didn't feel foolish, just relieved that this wasn't an assassination attempt. They marched me into the shopping mall. They had two semi-cells in the place. Both occupied.
I was put in cell 2 with this Jordanian looking guy. The boss rent-a-cop came by and asked me what I wanted for lunch. He was going to the deli next door. I got coffee and a turkey sandwich.
They took off the handcuff and the belt but left on the manacles. My cell mate showed me how to roll my socks so the manacles didn't keep clanging on my ankle bone.
When the rent-a-cop bought in our lunch I saw a clock finally. It was 1:20.
We ate. We talked about nothing. Mainly we waited. My cell mate was being deported as being a suspected terrorist. He had to return to America even though he only had a green card there.
Then we waited. Then this bald guy, about 6' 3" and a smallish girl came in and scooped up our stuff. I still had not been able to touch any of my belongings. I just kept getting to look at the clear plastic garbage bag and wonder.
The bald guy came in and put these strange 1 piece handcuffs on us. They were like regular handcuffs but held together with a thick piece of black plastic. The plastic was rigid. I played with them and couldn't figure out what the different design was intended to accomplish.
We were then marched into a car. I kept demanding to know if they had called my friend as they had agreed and were legally obligated to do.
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They never called. The same way they never gave me my 48 hours notice. A government of criminals.
The bald guy and the lady drove us to Rainbow Bridge. They spent the entire drive complaining about their jobs . . .
We drove over Niagara Falls. I wasn't very impressed.
I figure thy blamed us.
When we got to the border it got odd again. The bald guy flung my garbage bag of goods onto the ground HARD, like he was trying to break stuff. While he took off all the chains he was rabbiting on to the US Border patrol about how dangerous I was and how he hoped they were locking me up for life!
The border guard said, "He's walking right out the gate. What's your problem anyway."
The US Border Guard tried to disengage from the Canadian Immigration Bald Guy. The bald guy kept following him. Two cops led the Jordanian guy into the building. I went and picked up my stuff. I looked into the bag. It was a mess. I wondered what the prison guards had swiped.
There was no one there. The lying bastards had done it. Dumped me in the USA so that no one knew where I was, no money, no property. Funny thing was they'd not served me with any deportation papers. They gave me back my passport but it wasn't stamped.
The US guard came out. The bald guy scowled at me like he wanted to say something but since I wasn't handcuffed and he couldn't count on back-up he decided to shut up. The US guard said, "look, you don't have to talk to me. You can just leave. We're not holding you and have no interest in you but what did you do to piss off the Canadians! I have no idea why you're here! I mean why they dropped you here. I've never seen anything like this and I'm telling you those guys hate you!"
We talked for a while. He couldn't figure it out. He just knew that he'd never seen a deportation that looked like this. It was more like I'd been run out of the country then legally removed. He had no papers from them, which was normal. They were saying some pretty terrible things about me. He was surprised I wasn't 6 foot 7 and covered in gore. Usually they'd have tons of paper accompanying me. This guy only had mouth.
I said so long and went to a nearby park. I found my bag. Instead of 45 bucks they'd left me a twenty . . . I guess I should have been grateful. Later I found a bag of Canadian change. That's worthless.
I opened the bag and managed to find my shoe strings, my belt and my watch. It felt silly putting these things on in a public place but I didn't have much other choice.
I saw a Bank of America and decided to go there to try and change the Canadian 20 to US funds. they refused to do it but the teller told me there was a gas station about a half mile away that would change it. I walked over there. He gave me 16 bucks for the 20 and sold me a 10 dollar
Click images for desktop size: "Crushed" by NFL FIlms
phone card. I still had my mobile but it had been deactivated.
I called my friend. She wasn't there. I left a message with the pay phone number.
After a while I felt uncomfortable standing in the gas station parking lot so I walked back to the park. I realized that the plastic garbage bag was starting to tear. I carried it as gingerly as possible to the park. Somehow I managed to get almost everything into my back and a small plastic satchel. I had to throw away a few things.
One thing I found was the deck of cards Hosia had given me. The cards were well used, worn and as limp as paper towels. He gave them to me so I could throw them away in the USA. He didn't ant them buried in Canada. Later I'd throw them into the Falls. I waited to see if I was going to get arrested for littering.
I called my friend again and left a new pay phone number. This pay phone was close enough to a
shaded bench for me to wait.
After about an hour she called. I was glad.
She'd been at Maplehurst Prison when I called. She'd put money in my canteen account because they told her I was still there! My friend spoke to a social worker and the official records showed that I had been "released back into society". Which I guess is a nice way of saying illegally dumped. For most of the day they had no idea where I was and no clue what had happened.
The prison refused to refund my friend the money she'd given for the canteen fund. See, at this prison you couldn't earn money so everything had to come from outside. They even charged 12 bucks for a haircut! I wanted to get some stuff for some of the inmates who'd been kind and helpful. The stuff on the canteen list was pretty horrible and they charged full price for everything like a buck fifty for a candy bar or a bag of chips. This was one prison determined to run at a profit for everybody but the inmates.
My friend said she'd come for me. It was a massive relief. With my stuff all packed I figured I looked like a guy who'd lost all his money at one of the casinos and had then got thrown out of his hotel. I hoped that would stop the cops from busting me for vagrancy in the two hours or so it would take my friend to get there.
I had six bucks and about 3 hours to kill. I saw that hot dogs were going for 5 bucks so I figured the turkey sandwich was going to have to last.