Some days are better than others, particularly when good things happen in a cluster. Today was one of those days, although it got off to a rocky start.
Earl told me that Tefunk was royally pissed because he had been summoned to the Nurse Oyen’s office, where she told him “someone had expressed concern” about his wracking cough. (If you could see Tefunk you’d understand my nervousness about his wanting to know you the intervener was.. He’s totally BLABS —Built Like a Brick Shithouse.) God forbid he’d be relieved that he was finally getting some traction with the medical staff, instead he was irritated that “someone was getting in my business.” Earl acknowledged his feelings, then tried to step past them, encouraging Tefunk to instead focus on the fact that he desperately needs to get treated. The coughing has been going on for over a year! He has been transferred from elsewhere because they suspected an environmental allergy. Since it didn’t clear up with the new locale, it’s clearly not that, and it’s doubtfully just the bronchial infection Tefunk insists it is. But what do I know? It’s ridiculous that an unschooled bystander should be offering up an armchair diagnosis, but it’s more concern than he’s been getting from the docs. In any case, Earl certainly won’t tell him I was the one who intervened, and if anyone related to Tefunk is reading this, instead of telling him it was me, make some noise on his behalf with the medical staff.
Letters from the outside to prison higher ups are relatively rare, given the kind of population in here and the corresponding educational level of most of their loved ones. A well-written letter that clearly and concisely states a reasoned argument doesn’t have much competition. Such was the letter to the Warden from my sister Sandra, that immediately got the necessary paperwork to authorize my parole transfer to Albuquerque upon my release on the desk of my previously there’s–nothing–I–can-do–about–it counselor. Of course, I very graciously thanked her as if she had something to do with it, and then took the opening to tell her about my episode in the mailroom with Sergeant Erickson. When I told her t the “are you a Republican or Democrat?” part of the story, her jaw literally dropped. (Ms. Wesson is African-American, and a social worker, so I’ll bet a Democrat).
I realized instigating a little office gossip might be more effective than filing a complaint. I would love for the Sargeant to feel embarrassed about the incident more than anything. Ms. Wesson also made a call to the mailroom, and I found out the 8 books waiting for me from my friend Ellen, sent directly via Amazon.com, are within the limit of 10, so the package is completely within procedural parameters.
I will face Sergeant Erickson tomorrow to get the books . Pray for me.
Tonight is also the night we get some outside food, from a Pollo Loco or somesuch, ordered a month ago. A feast! It also is a full moon, and there was an earthquake! However, I did not get a MacArthur Genius Grant. (The awards were announced today. Maybe next year.)
Incidentally, my birthday is coming up. October 15. I was going to bury it, but I’ve had nothing but awful birthdays in this century and I would actually love some cards and good wishes. I’ll be 46, by the way. We’ll save the really big celebration for 50.
MCO 2004
PS If you want to send a gift, a pretty blank postcard is fine, They’re fun to send back out to say hi!
