Send The Pain Below: Session Three
Please be sure to read Sessions One and Two before venturing into Session Three.
They sort of go well together...lol!
Session Four is in progress and right behind this one.
Thanks for coming back, and I hope each Session has been worthwhile of the
time you have all taken to read through them.
Music Video:SEND THE PAIN BELOW (by Chervelle)
Music Video Code provided by VideoCodeZone.Com
Blue Feet
Send The Pain Below: Session Three
I got up and shuffled over to the door, hoping to catch the attention of someone. One of the young girls was chitter-chattering with the deputy behind the counter. They were on the computer, of course. I leaned over and managed a couple of ‘excuse me’s’ out the pie hole, and the girl turned around and asked what I needed. If that didn’t take the cake, I thought. I asked if I could use the phone sometime soon. The deputy spun his chair around and bellowed “After lunch…we gotta process a few prisoners through here, and we don’t want every one all in and out of their cells all day long…” he acted as though it were my tenth time asking. What an asshole. So fine, after lunch it is. I’ll go drink some water, and fluff my…pillow. God forbid I ask for those socks right about now, and I guess that goes for the meds too. Oh, hell no…I spun not so gracefully back around and asked if my meds had arrived yet. A big fat no came at me less than a minute later. Gee whiz, don’t try so hard next time…I wouldn’t want you to actually get up and find out why or nothing. What an asshole. Back to the gurney I go.
Lunch came, and this time I was actually kind of hungry. I have to eat to keep my strength up. Who am I kidding, but what the hell…its what my girl would want, and I miss her something awful right now, so I will do what I think she would want me to do. Wonder what she’s doing right now. I looked at the tray, and knew that getting it to the gurney was going to be extra difficult today. I managed it by myself, and then I turned to get some tea. I’d have to be awake for court today, so’s I can bitch them out all proper. Who am I kidding; I’m already stuttering my request for some tea. No tea today, they said. Well that’s just crap, how come there’s no tea now that I wanted some? There were 2 little burger looking things, some lettuce, pear halves…and I forget what else, but I almost cried at the sight of it even resembling edible food. I put together what I would pretend to be a really good burger, and managed to get through one of them. I would have had to pretend too hard to eat the other one. Down went the pears, and whatever else I could. Up I went for some more water at the luxury sink, then back to the door to stand there like a lost puppy on the porch. My feet are making it difficult to stand, even with the walker. I’ve had a walker before, it makes that click-click noise when you open it…but watch out if you hear that noise while in motion. Yeah, it happened to me a couple times, and down I went. Click-click, boom…it was never pretty. At least I was able to decorate mine with blinking lights and little skulls hanging off of it everywhere. It was like “pimp my walker”. I heard the door way down at the other end of the hallway, and knew that meant they were bringing more inmates down this way. Guess the phone call will have to wait. Back to the gurney I go.
I laid there watching that RN with glasses, as she rolled some machine over in front of my cell. It was a really old X-ray machine, and I’ll be damned if she wasn’t taking X-ray’s of a few of these guys right in front of my cell. Radiation waves for dessert, how quaint. She barely said a word, she reminded me of the type of staff in here that disagrees with the neglect, but is called in here only to do certain procedures and has learned to remain respected by learning what limits have been bestowed upon her in here…whether they are regulation or not. If it was ‘the way’, then she would abide on certain grounds. That’s just what I got off of her. The others seemed to have no problems with ignoring the patients routinely. They still haven’t taken the burn girl to the hospital, and they’re still giving her 600mg of Motrin every eight hours. Her boss lady from the kitchen came in, and was apologizing up and down for the deputy who frightened her and made her fall. That’s when I got the whole story. The girl was standing tip-toe on a milk crate to pour a giant pitcher of boiling hot water through the huge coffee machines for cleaning, and was startled by a deputy who snuck up on her in the middle of it. Apparently, this happened often, but this time someone got hurt. She lost her balance and fell, spilling the boiling hot water onto herself. She was wearing a long sleeve thermal shirt and the water made a puddle in the elbow area of her shirt, cooking her arm. They should have brought her to the hospital; they were most certainly liable for that incident. Instead, she was sent here…for Motrin and peanut butter sandwiches.
The last of the men were being led back down the hall to the main population cells. I managed my way back to the window. I had to know what was happening, I had to know when I was getting released, I just had to know stuff…and I had to use the phone. I got the assholes attention again, and mentioned that it is now after lunch and the men have gone. He said that since there was only one of him at the time, I would have to wait until officer such-n-such came back. Fine…asshole. I asked if my meds were there yet, trying not to stutter like Ozzy. Nope…not there yet he says. This time I asked if he could maybe look into it for me. He nodded, and looked away. Back to the gurney I go, this time with an angry disposition accompanied by a sinking feeling in my heart.
It became evident that something was going all wrong on the outside. I should have been shuffled out of here by now. My imagination was being cruel to me, and I kept thinking about those movies you see on Lifetime TV where someone is caught up in a nightmare of having been accused of a crime they didn’t commit and get stuck in prison for like years upon years. I fell asleep thinking about shit like that, and needless to say it was not a good time to play mind games on myself in an already vulnerable state. I don’t care how strong ones mind is, if you get suddenly broadsided by this type of ordeal, add to it the adverse condition of health aspect…then viola! You find yourself floating blind in unfamiliar mental waters, and the game now is to learn how to swim…in those waters. Yeah, the melody of it (I can’t feel my chest, chest, chest…) echoes. I just follow the echoes. After all, they are the sounds of my own breath…in a way. What the hell, it was working for me at the moment, so I rolled with it. Life depravation 101; see how fast this Butch will cave…huh, not. I drifted off to sleep with the comfort of knowing that my 14th ghost was still here, and she had the same tired smirk mustered upon her face. It was this whole situation that was crazy, not us…we were pretty sure of it. What the hell day is it again?
You know what’s crazy…I’ll tell you what’s crazy. Dinner that night was halfway decent, so much so that I almost had to fan my face like a big old Butch fag; only I can’t remember for the life of me what was served that night. Yeah, that’s crazy stuff right there. I do remember being promised that I could use the phone, and I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a sound at the end of the hallway with like eight guys in chains being herded towards this end immediately following. Surely not, I said to myself. They can’t be processing more. This meant I was about to get screwed out of my call. I sprung into action, and it took forever to get back to the window. Noticeably there was no spring in my action, but I sure as hell gave it a try. Without hesitation, I leaned down to the pie hole and said something to the effect of still needing to get that phone call that I was promised. There were three deputies now, with one of the young girls and that RN again. She only showed up when they were coming, that pattern became obvious by now. He came over and said after these guys there is a few more, then I could use the phone. I was really trying to be tolerant, and I know they can see what’s happening with me in here. They were so indifferent to it, that it made me tired. It just really made me tired. It drained my energy. Their energy was so negative…and I tend to draw and transfer energy in the form of pain. My own energy was bouncing back to me with twice the potency. Sounds silly, but I have witnesses. Here is where I pause to grin. I informed the little shit that I needed to lay down for a while, and would he please be so kind as to make sure he wakes me up after these guys are all done. He said he would, and I sort of believed him. So I brush my teeth, drink some water and comb my hair. I was numb on the inside and out, but I could still feel the bad stuff happening behind the scenes. No meds yet, no socks yet, and the damage has been done. I saw my face in the shiny part of what was supposed to be a mirror. Yeah, the damage has been done. Yeah, there’s that melody again…send the pain…below. Who in the hell are these people to take the likes of me…an all around good seed, and snatch me up out of my daily world, slam me around in here and spit me out like carnage? Back to the gurney…I go.
As I lay there basking in the undertones of my own private darkness, sentences of the men outside the cell were catching my audible attention. There was one guy who started telling one of the young girls about his issues, and after the shameless, almost drunk sounding disclosure of his drug use and evidently, soon to follow withdrawals…he says to her that he should probably be tested for AIDS. He explained he had been sharing needles for a while, and has never been tested…and he had sex with a couple of guys that might be infected. He just rambled on and on all matter of fact like it was no big deal, but they should test him. Then he mentioned the segregation rules of AIDS patients in prison, asked if they would separate him from the general population. The conversation started to sound like he was looking to be placed in medical, because then he said that if he didn’t have AIDS, then he knew for sure he was a diabetic and that they should write that down. I wanted to tell him, don’t bother dude…it’s no paradise in the medical ward. Let him find out for himself later. After he left, I heard one of the deputies’ laugh, saying that the guy asks for an AIDS test every time he’s brought over here. He said it was the third time in the last few weeks, and he came up negative the first time. That kind of pissed me off. How could someone actually welcome a debilitating condition just to get what they are under the sadly mistaken impression of, special treatment? I wanted to kick that ass-hat idiot into tomorrow. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling, just for a little bit. Then I would like to imagine, that he might think twice. I drifted off to sleep again.
My eyes popped open to the echo of what sounded like a jolly big fellow. It was one of those deep bellowing hearty voices, like you imagine Santa Claus would have. Everything else seemed quiet. I guess all the commotion is over and everyone has been herded back to where they belong. I didn’t hear anyone else talking to him and for a second or three I thought he was a bit touched and was very possibly talking to his ghosts. I honed in on the big guy’s conversation, and to my astonishment…he was…on the phone! I hear him telling his whoever on the other end, that the deputy was nice enough to let him make a call even though it was past cut off time. What the hell?!? That idiot was supposed to wake me up! I realized that I shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised, but I was quite saddened. I was also a little pissed at myself for having actually believed that I made some kind of headway in this god forsaken place. I really needed to hear my woman’s voice. I really needed to hear…why I was still in here just as bad. Was I a suspect in a murder? Was I a suspect in a government conspiracy? Well, no…of course not. If it were a government conspiracy thing, then I would have been taken care of all proper like. I know this because I am, after all, a CNN freak. I see how they cart their suspects around on first class flights and such. Silliness…why am I even having this conversation with myself right now?
The big guy was still on the phone. He was talking to family, told them he checked himself through medical for his remaining time here which was, what I would guess to be about two or three days according to his parley. He sounded like a really kind man. He talked about the meals he would have when arriving back at home. I heard him talking about some kind of asparagus salad, and other delicacies…and that was damned near tormenting to hear right now. I wondered what my girl was having. I wondered what time it was, especially since it was ‘past cut off time’ for phone calls. What I wouldn’t give to be empty of the anger that was assembling within me right now. I looked for that little black bug to keep me company. Seems it has found another set of eyes to dance for. The freedom to come and go in here belonged only to the staff and the little black bug. Even if I could travel through this place like a little black bug, I’m not so sure I would wish to see everything that bug has to see. From cell to cell, another mind and body goes unmanaged and left to roam off course. The bug sees all. How many were privy to its company. How many sought the company of it when it disappeared. I know I hunted for its shadows in the arctic darkness right now…until I drifted off into a cold slumber once again. I also know that the wetness on my face seemed be migrating from the corner of my eye, only I couldn’t feel myself crying this time. I could, however…sense disparagement.
After having another one of those idiosyncratic dreams, I was awakened by a female voice that bellowed the command “Arm badge and laundry bag…arm badge and laundry bag…” An unconscious reaction had me holding my arm out a bit for the arm badge to be shown. It had my picture on it, like I needed to see a photo of myself in stripes, locked onto my wrist to boot. I guess its all part of making sure one knows that they are indeed an inmate…as if the surroundings weren’t already a pretty good indication. She was already moving toward the left to the other cells with the same bellowing request, and I struggled to move my body and mouth awake enough to coherently ask “Ma’am…ma’am…I don’t have…” my voice trailed off as I realized how cold my feet were. I looked down to see that during my sleep, my legs and feet had managed to tear even bigger holes into the Swiss cheese blanket, leaving my feet half exposed. The sting seemed to rip through me, somehow causing an immediate raise in decibel level of my voice. I was still addressing the lady while trying to cover my feet up best I could. “Ma’am…” I pleaded, hoping for her return. She returned. “Yes…what is it?” she replied mildly. I looked up and said “I don’t have…laundry”. She peered in and asked “When did you get here?” I noticed her eyes scanning the cell, and landing more than briefly on the walker. Trying not to stutter like an idiot, so as not to waste this opportunity for what appeared to be an actual inquiry as to what was happening in my horrid world right now, I told her I had arrived Saturday morning. “Have you not had a shower yet?” she asked. A shower…hell, I haven’t even had the luxury of my meds thus far! I hate meds, but at that moment I had detected a subtle infatuation for that which I could not seem to obtain. “No, except for that one with the lice shampoo...but I don’t know if I would consider that a shower. Other than that, I think I’m really more than they all want to deal with…like I’ve got ‘I’m an ordeal’ written across my forehead or something” I said, surprised by my own tone of humor. It was true though. She looked at me, gave a half smile and asked “Would you like to have a shower…?” Surely my response was pathetic as hell “Oh my god yes! That would be awesome!” She told me to wait a few minutes, and she would be back with a change of clothes. Eagerly I sat up, and tried to get myself prepared for this event. It occurred to me she may never return, but I just had this feeling she would. I opened my tub, waited a second for the peanut butter and bug spray fumes to dissipate…then reached in for the little bottle of maximum security soap goop. Oh, and the little deodorant stuff too. By now, that little tube of deodorant wouldn’t have been nearly enough to do the job, but I grabbed it anyway. It was silly how excited I was, standing there at the steel door with my face almost pressed against the window glass like a dog that was just promised a walk in the park.
As she opened the cell door, she actually asked if I needed the wheel chair to get down the hall. I declined, and told her that I probably needed the opportunity to get some circulation. It’s a good thing I still have something left over of what used to be some fairly strong arms. The Gift has managed to make Pillsbury out of the rest of me; either by way of its own itinerary and natural course, or by way of limiting what I can and cannot do as far as movement was concerned. I was never coordinated enough for sports, but I was strong enough to haul motorcycle motors from the bed of a truck to a mechanics station. I miss those days. She was patient with me as I drug my feet like dead limbs beneath me. The left one was doing most of the work, the right one just sort of followed along. The walker made a click-clacking noise that seemed to echo through the hall each time I had to stop for a second while en route. A bit of hot water for my feet right now was my inspiration to make this hallway as short as possible. The second time I stopped to hear the echo; I turned and looked behind me. There was a clock on the wall behind the deputy’s counter and it read just after 10:00. I looked at her and said “Not to sound ignorant or anything, but is that 10:00 in the morning or the evening?” She said “Night time, it’s just after 10:00 at night” I then asked “What day is it…?” I knew this question would risk me sounding like a psych patient, but I needed to know for sure. Now she was beginning to be somewhat curious. “It’s Monday night…” she looked down at my feet with obvious concern over the color and direction of contortion of the right one “What’s wrong with your feet?” she asked. I gave her a short explanation of the Gift, what being here has managed to bring forth of what the Gift has to offer, ending with the fact that I really shouldn’t be here at all, and then expressed how much I looked forward to any relief the blue feet were about to receive from the heat of a shower. My guess is, she hears ‘I’m not supposed to be here, I’m innocent’ all the time from the inmates, so I didn’t try to plead my case at all…I just stated it in a very matter of fact manner. We arrived at the shower stall, and she told me that I could take my time. It appeared she was the only staff around at the time. She placed a change of clothes, a new little bottle of shampoo on top of them and two fresh towels over the stall door. More like doilies, but they would do. She had accidentally knocked my shades off of the stall door where I had placed them, and almost panicked that she might have broken them! They were fine of course; she picked them up and put them on a chair inside the shower stall for me. She didn’t even grill me on how I got them in here. Who was this woman? Better yet, where the hell has she been all this time? As she headed back down the hall, I felt overwhelmingly compelled to lean over the stall door and say “Ma’am…thank you. You’re an angel…really.” It didn’t get any more genuine than that for me. I meant it. I stood the walker in front of the shower head, and pushed the little button below it to get the stream going. It took 3 or four pushes to get the temperature warm enough for me to feel it wash over my feet. The rest of my body was suffering as well, and I knew that full well…but chose not to lay focus upon that fact. Several times I pushed that water button, several times I tried really hard not to contemplate why I was still here, and a whole day had come and gone without someone rushing in to rescue me from this horrid place. A whole day had come and gone without someone at least resembling a nurse, rushing to my cell with a sense of urgency administering relief down my throat and telling me it will be all better soon. My preference is medicinal marijuana, and I am a living example of what power this phenomenon herb has in as far as subsiding the symptoms that rage beneath the surface of my neurological system. I don’t suppose they would be offering up a joint any time soon. Shit, rushing at me with a pair of socks would have sufficed.
At some point as the water was rushing down over my face, I realized that my feet were thawing off a bit. Just a few more pushes, I told myself. Just a few more pushes…then I reached up and felt my face. A few more pushes was not going to fix what I knew had happened; partial facial paralysis on the right side. I could tell when my eyes were exposed to the high intensity lights of the hallway that my right eye was not opened all the way. I touched my eyelid, and then I slowly slid my hand over the cheek area. It was sore as hell. Just a few more pushes…just a few more pushes of the button. Reminded me of the sinks at rest stops, where you have to be damned near skilled at working those faucets to get a continuous flow that would last more than three seconds. It was kind of comical, really. I did that a lot when driving from California to Tennessee to be here with my girl. I drove it twice actually, but that is another nightmarish story in and of its self. I opened my mouth to the stream of warm water, and felt a strange throb on the left. I stuck my finger back there and felt the jagged edges of what was left of the tooth I would surely miss. Yeah…indeed, much like suffocating. It was time, I guess…for that melody to ring through my soul’s attic again. It was actually kind of soothing. You have to understand, I am a certified music addict and it is music that soothes the beast in me. It speaks to me, for me, about me, and with me. If I ever had to choose between losing my sight and losing my audible senses…I would be happily blind.
I pushed that button for the last time, and maneuvered myself into the clean stripes. I also took one of the doilies and ran it under the hot water so I could wrap it around my feet when I hop back onto the gurney to dream hopelessly some more. I made sure to place the other items into the mesh laundry bag, and thinking ahead I kept the t-shirt in order to thicken up that flat assed creation I called my pillow. Here she comes, down the hallway again. The angel lady, I called her. We made our way back down the hall to my cell. I did my best not to look into the other cells; kind of like those two young girls always do, only for a whole different reason. I just didn’t want them to feel…like I do when people passing by stare nosily into your cell. It’s really dehumanizing, and they all seem to look at you like you’re a drug addict or something. Some do, some don’t…but still.
We were passing the phone that was just a mere twenty feet from where I lay my head in torment. I wasn’t going to push it by asking to use it, but I did inquire about the sheet of paper that was posted just above it. It was a visiting schedule for the medical ward. According to the chart, my cell number showed I would be able to receive visitors from 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm on Tuesday. I wondered if my girl knew this, if she would be there; if I could call her tomorrow and let her know. The angel lady asked if I had filled out a request for visitation. I looked at her blankly. There was a request form? No one told me about a request form! No one told me about the cell phone account set-up shit either, which made me think there was probably a host of other things no one was telling me about as well. The angel lady told me she would get me the form, and told me that she would see if she could get a hold of a pair of socks for me as well. The socks never came, but somehow I was pretty sure she had at least tried. She returned with a little pencil, the kind you find in a cup sitting ready to go atop a lottery rostrum at the corner convenience store…and the form. I asked her if there was a form to get outta jail free. We both kind of chuckled, but then I followed up with a more serious question. Was there a form required in order to get my medication administered? No such luck; a form was not the cause of hindrance. I am betting at that point, that it was the fault of an already steady stream of incompetence grinning down upon my situation. Naturally, I was also trying to convince myself that they were not being held from me out of pure callousness either. Who would be so cruel, and still be getting a paycheck issued by a city, state or county as an employee? Who am I kidding; we can’t even keep a watchful eye on the corrupt behavior of the police that is gratuitously displayed all over televisions courtesy of countless home video cameras of bystanders who just happen to be at the right place at the wrong time. I quickly shook those thoughts from my head, and asked if she could maybe look into it for me. She said she would fill out an information form, and expedite it where ever the hell it needed to go to get an answer. That’s funny; none of the others simulated the act of filling out anything…they just hollered out ‘No’ like it was second nature. I filled in the blanks on the form, making note of the sentence above where you put the names of who would be authorized to visit. It stated that changes to this list can only be made every 60 days. I thought that to be unreasonable, but no one wants to hear my thoughts, so I just shook my head at the paper…as if it were hearing my scorn. There was a line next to where I put my girl’s name where I was to explain what relation she was to me. I wrote ‘significant life partner, and nurse’. I could feel my heart sink a little, I missed her. I looked up at the angel lady, handed her the form and managed a smile that was meant to show my girl that I was being strong and stuff like that. Before she left the front of my ice box, I made my last request of the angel lady. I asked if there just might happen to be any reading materials; old newspapers, a book…the Bible. Anything that would help pass the time would be grand. As it was, I still had another four days until my scheduled court date. I steered quickly and vehemently away from that train of thought. I was going home any minute now, that’s the train of thought I had attempted to maintain. She returned with a few beat up paperbacks that looked like they had been here since the creation of the facility…which was obvious that was a long time ago. I chose one of the old western stories, as I was just not interested in the other one. It was a chick novel, a love story ‘Fabio’ kind of book. No thanks, in case anyone has yet to notice, I am a Butch. The kind of Butch that has no desire to read that sort of stuff, some Butches do…but I do not. Unless of course it was more along the lines of Anne Rice’s ‘Sleeping Beauty’ trilogy, otherwise no thanks...I’ll take the old western cowboy and Indian story. I expressed my gratitude profusely to the angel lady for all she had done for me, and retreated to the aloofness of my dark cold cell. I dare say that there was almost a hint of content in clutching that book, but it was short lived and over-ridden by the troublemaking children that apparently couldn’t sleep and decided it was playtime again. Menacing are the faces of the children, I imagine them plotting which part of me they would annihilate next. I opened the little paperback, kind of chuckled at the original publication date of 1948…then stayed on that page long enough to be impressed that it had been reprinted twice since that time. Emerging from the recesses and descending upon my clairvoyance, arrived my 14th ghost to join me in the bedtime story. Soon, I drifted off…we drifted off together. I swear I thought I felt her tucking the thin sheet around my feet. That feeling still seems so vivid, even as I sit here writing about it two months later. Skeptics beware, there are forces unseen and they come from within the depths of ones own mind…and they present with a power that is matched only by divinity.
End of Session Three…
Yeah...much like suffocating.
This is not me, but it sure as hell says it all.
I appreciate those who have made it through the story thus far, thank you for your time!
Session Four will post shortly behind this one.
One of the Children...She don't look too happy.
The Hallway: That would be my 14th Ghost taking a look around.