These wild green cats taught me how to do the bop Billy Lee Riley

Rose Garden by Peder Kroyer I over did it yesterday. Spent a lot of time gasping and feeling uncomfortable.
I think I was fine with the walk to the mall and I was fine with the long shopping trip (10 different A Bullet for the General mobile shops). I believe if I had stopped then, sat down and taken an hour or longer break I would have been fine. Instead I plunged back and made the walk home to make it about a four hour uninterrupted expedition.
Silly of me.
I did get a phone, so I have a number for resumes. It also gives others a way to reach me. I got the cheapest package I could find: Net10. They had a 30 dollar phone but it was sold out at all the shops. There was only one 50 buck phone left in the entire mall. That’s the one I got.
The phone itself is an LG. Its pretty barebones but is still fancier than I need or want. It has a camera built in. that’s a big who cares to me.
But its nice to be connected.
I made an appointment to see the doctor for this Thursday. Earliest appointment I could get. My old friend doc has moved on and is following his focus even tighter. He was a good, no a great doctor. I hope his replacement is as good.
It still only costs 20 bucks to see the doctor. Reminds me of why I came back here. I’m a bit nervous about the damage that was done to me in Maplehurst. I hope it is reversible.
When I left the hospital they said there was a good chance that I could heal the damage done to my heart. I hope that is still the case.
But the biggest thing for Thursday is to get new scripts for the myriad meds I have to take to stay alive. I have over a week’s supply or I only have about a weeks supply if I want to be cynical.

June 20, 2009

My cell was strange. The steel door was have two inch plexiglass. In the middle of the empty room was a hospital bed. Next to it was this sci-fi looking contraption that was a one piece steel water Painted Dancer fountain and toilet.
When the guard slammed the door shut he said, “see that emergency cord hanging there on the wall. Whatever you do don’t even f____ing think of touching it. Touch it and I’ll f_–ing stomp your f___ing head in. The TV is off from noon until midnight and then off from midnight until noon.”
He walked away jingling his keys and chuckling. I wondered if the whole thing was a joke.
The cell was tiny but clean. I paced it until I finally lay down. I seemed to sleep in 15 or 20 minute cycles. I kept falling in and out of consciousness. I’d wake up to hear a guard yelling at an inmate, to look at and not be able to eat the food, or to shuffle over to the door to have a cup of pills handed to me. I had to take them and then stand at the window and raise my tongue. I guess to make sure I’d swallowed them and wasn’t saving them for some unfathomable purpose.
At down I’d watch a flock of cedar wing waxbills alight on the big empty yard. They methodically worked from one end of the yard to the other, about 100 yards by 30 yards. It was done with aAddicted to Murder: Tainted Blood pleasing wild animal precision.
In the evening I watched a large animal that I’ve since discovered was probably a musk rat, go over the same yard grousing and searching for food. He moved with a very pleasant unhurried gate. from the wall to the 20 foot chain linked fence.
I thought it odd that the prison had seemed to create its own George Harrison ecosystem.
The guards had created their own universe too.
I never heard a guard in this place talk to anyone. They yelled. And all of their yelling was punctuated with a string of profanity and racial slurs. When the inmate was white, like them, they made derogatory remarks about the inmates infirmity like, “Get the f___ of out that bed you c___s___ing crippled bastard or I’ll come in there and crush that f___ing head of yours like a berry!”
They were so uniformly consistent I figured the abuse was a part of their training.
For the most part the inmates were pretty much as silent as I was. That didn’t seem to matter as to how much verbal invective and abuse you received. They always seemed to try to keep a threat of menace and violence in the air.
On Sunday I asked about taking a shower. A fat blonde female guard screeched at me, “You f___ing wop bastard. You think this is a f___ing hotel or something! Sit there and stew in your filth a__hole.”
Dream Party Girl That seemed uncalled for to me.
I spent the rest of Sunday in pretty much the same way; falling in and out of sleep, listening to the abuse and accepting my fair share of the abuse. I thought at least no ones punching me or twisting my arm. I guess that was something. From the sounds I could hear I might have been unique.
On Monday I woke up when the doctor came into my call. At first I was glad for a doc but when I saw him . . . he was old, Very very old. His ID hung around his neck. It was so old that his fidgeting with it had worn his picture almost completely away.
A nurse took my blood pressure. It was something like 140 over 90 with a pulse of 96. “Perfect,” he The Amazing Collsal Man declared. “Nothing wrong with this one.”
I tried to talk to him and explain that those numbers were in what the hospital declared to be a danger zone for me, about a third higher than they should have been for me to be safe. They were close to impossibly high in the face of the beta blockers and stuff I was taking.
He didn’t listen. Just shuffled off.
I fell asleep. I woke up and someone was talking to me. I have no idea how long he’d been talking before I came too. I had no idea who he was.
I was curious as to who he was and what he was saying. He wasn’t French or even Quebecois but his voice had they rhythm if not the accent.

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