For the past week, I had been in and out of Medical getting blood drawn, having x-rays taken, and being subject to a bunch of other pre-op tests, so I knew that my time under the knife was drawing close. For security reasons no one would tell me just when it would occur, only that I should listen for a page to report to the Lieutenant’s office or the SHU, at which point I’d be placed in solitary overnight and then taken to the hospital in the morning.
The day the page came it was raining. I’d spent the day off, only venturing out to go to another doctor appointment and to the Commissary. My friends had convinced me to cook for them because of the nasty weather and feeling creative I was making my first jail-house pizza. I finished it up and was returning to my cube when the page came over the intercom. Scrambling around, I gave my friends the job of cleaning up and explained how to finish cooking dinner, all of the while swearing to myself because I now wouldn’t get the chance to enjoy the meal I just spent an hour preparing!
I headed outside, glad to see that there was a break in the storm, and made a bee-line to the Lieutenants.
“We’re waiting on one more,” he said and gestured for me to stand against the wall.
The thing that sucks most about being placed in the SHU is the fact it runs like a Maximum Security facility no matter why you are there. When you enter you have to be handcuffed, strip searched then put on one of the nasty orange jumpsuits and then handcuffed again when they lead you to your box, which is exactly like they show on TV. Metal toilet/sink combo in one corner, a desk and a bunk bed. Ours happens to also have a shower, so once you are in you don’t have to leave for months. When I arrived here I spent 28 days alone in one and I never wanted to go back. Needless to say that anxiety was amplified by my looming procedure and I found myself in a mood unlike any I’ve had in years.
It’s overall cold sensation that just numbs your emotions and turns your stomach all while your brain is racing and prophesying doom. (Stand before a sentencing judge and you’ll understand).
“Here he comes,” one of the officers said and I look up. Waddling across the yard was one of the biggest men I’d ever seen. Skin as black as coal, standing over six feet tall with a gut so big it nearly hung to his knees. “That’s going to be your cellmate,” the C.O. said to me with twisted amusement.
I sighed.
After waiting the nearly ten minutes it took him to cross to us, we are both handcuffed and led into the SHU. Things have changed a little since my last trip. Now in the center of the room is a pair of dog cages stood on end. Obviously they are meant for us. I slide into mine without problem, but my cellie literally has to shove himself through the door. The cage is about 6 feet deep, 7 feet high and three feet wide.
“Strip down,” the C.O. tells us after locking the door and removing our handcuffs.
I set about the task, trying to ignore the grunting and gasping in the cage beside me. Nude, I turn and face the guard, inadvertently glancing at a black moon the size of my torso.
I do the strip search dance, exposing the soles of my feet, my hands and orifices in a practiced 10 second jig. Honestly, after the first dozen times doing it the whole strip search thing isn’t a big deal. Watching a 400 pound man do it out of the corner of my eye, however, was a sight I never wanted to repeat!
They brought us our jumpsuits and boxers, of course they had nothing to fit my new cellmate, and every thing either was ridiculously small or surprisingly big on him. Handcuffed up again they lead us to our cell, told me I’m sleeping top bunk, uncuffed us and locked us in for the night. It was just after 5 pm and lights out wasn’t until 10. We had no books, tv or radio.
My cellie shrugs out of his jumpsuit and I did the same since the cell has poor ventilation and was well over 70 degrees. My cellie’s boxers only covered half of his butt. At this point I wanted only to crawl into the bunk and meditate. He, however, wanted to talk.
STAY TUNED FOR MORE!
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