Let me give you a description of my room...
I'm on the second floor of a four-story hospital, to include a basement, which is located on the grounds of Sullivan Correctional Facility.
I must say, however, that it is not exactly like a regular hospital. It's really half hospital and half prison, if this makes any sense. While civilian nurses are on duty in addition to other personnel whom you'd find on staff in any hospital, there are also correction officers on duty at all times. They provide the security. They patrol the building and open and close doors. Therefore, I am always locked in my room. There are no steel bars here. But to gain entry to where I am, a guard has to accompany the nurse and unlock the door in order to come in. All rooms are like this. I'm not under any special watch. Yet unlike a normal hospital, I cannot come and go as I want. It's a paradoxical situation in which I am both a patient and a prisoner.
My room is approximately 15 x 20 feet. There's a small steel table in one corner that's bolted to the wall, with a small backless steel stool that's bolted to the floor. If I could get to this little table which is directly across from my bed, I could sit on the stool where I'd have to bend my legs inward. Thus, for now, I just try to prop myself up o my bed where I can do my writing and reading. It's not very comfortable, but it works.
Furthermore, sitting on top of this small table is a medium size color television. I tried out the TV. I can get about a dozen basic stations. Some of them come in cloudy, while other stations are okay. The TV looks as if it's at least ten years old, but at least it works. I'm often too tired to watch it, however. The television is here to keep a man who's assigned to the isolation room (like me) from going stir-crazy.
Then there's my bed, which is your standard hospital type item. And there is a plastic-covered lounge chair just parallel to the bed. Its back is on an angle, which makes it more comfortable to sit in. Still, it's a cheap product. But at least it's better than the metal or hard plastic chairs inmates usually have to sit on in church, school, the visiting room, or in the prison's library.
Next there is a stainless-steel single unit combination toilet seat and small sink. Then there's a stainless-steel shower stall which is specifically designed for use by someone who is handicapped. It has steel grips on its sides and a metal seat for a crippled person to sit on while he's in the shower. You press a button to start the water flowing, and press the same button again to make it stop. The pressure is very low, however. The water temperature is also preset. The shower is made so that an adult can squeeze into it and get a light spray from the overhead nozzle to wash yourself with.
Every several hours, a nurse will come into my room to either issue me my medicines or take my blood pressure and my temperature. Of course, a correction officer is always present; he must accompany her. While three times per day, an inmate orderly will come in with a guard to hand me my plastic food tray and a cup of milk or juice, he'll also ask if I need anything like toilet paper or a bar of soap. If my small plastic trash can is full, he'll empty it. Then the orderly and guard will leave. This is the extent of my human contact.
It's not the Hilton Hotel. But I've no complaints. I'm making do with the situation. I love the quiet. It's just me and Jesus together. I pray, read my Bible, write in my journal, and I mostly sleep. I need to be here. My body has been begging for rest for a long time.
D.B.
I must say, however, that it is not exactly like a regular hospital. It's really half hospital and half prison, if this makes any sense. While civilian nurses are on duty in addition to other personnel whom you'd find on staff in any hospital, there are also correction officers on duty at all times. They provide the security. They patrol the building and open and close doors. Therefore, I am always locked in my room. There are no steel bars here. But to gain entry to where I am, a guard has to accompany the nurse and unlock the door in order to come in. All rooms are like this. I'm not under any special watch. Yet unlike a normal hospital, I cannot come and go as I want. It's a paradoxical situation in which I am both a patient and a prisoner.
My room is approximately 15 x 20 feet. There's a small steel table in one corner that's bolted to the wall, with a small backless steel stool that's bolted to the floor. If I could get to this little table which is directly across from my bed, I could sit on the stool where I'd have to bend my legs inward. Thus, for now, I just try to prop myself up o my bed where I can do my writing and reading. It's not very comfortable, but it works.
Furthermore, sitting on top of this small table is a medium size color television. I tried out the TV. I can get about a dozen basic stations. Some of them come in cloudy, while other stations are okay. The TV looks as if it's at least ten years old, but at least it works. I'm often too tired to watch it, however. The television is here to keep a man who's assigned to the isolation room (like me) from going stir-crazy.
Then there's my bed, which is your standard hospital type item. And there is a plastic-covered lounge chair just parallel to the bed. Its back is on an angle, which makes it more comfortable to sit in. Still, it's a cheap product. But at least it's better than the metal or hard plastic chairs inmates usually have to sit on in church, school, the visiting room, or in the prison's library.
Next there is a stainless-steel single unit combination toilet seat and small sink. Then there's a stainless-steel shower stall which is specifically designed for use by someone who is handicapped. It has steel grips on its sides and a metal seat for a crippled person to sit on while he's in the shower. You press a button to start the water flowing, and press the same button again to make it stop. The pressure is very low, however. The water temperature is also preset. The shower is made so that an adult can squeeze into it and get a light spray from the overhead nozzle to wash yourself with.
Every several hours, a nurse will come into my room to either issue me my medicines or take my blood pressure and my temperature. Of course, a correction officer is always present; he must accompany her. While three times per day, an inmate orderly will come in with a guard to hand me my plastic food tray and a cup of milk or juice, he'll also ask if I need anything like toilet paper or a bar of soap. If my small plastic trash can is full, he'll empty it. Then the orderly and guard will leave. This is the extent of my human contact.
It's not the Hilton Hotel. But I've no complaints. I'm making do with the situation. I love the quiet. It's just me and Jesus together. I pray, read my Bible, write in my journal, and I mostly sleep. I need to be here. My body has been begging for rest for a long time.
D.B.
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