Earlier today, as is done every weekend morning after breakfast, the prison's doctor made his rounds to check on each patient...
And as it turned out, shortly after 10 A.M. both Trek and Nickel were discharged from the hospital. Trek's blood pressure was down to an acceptable level. While Nickel, the doctor determined, had nothing wrong with him.
I wasn't at all surprised. I watched as the doctor pointed a finer at Nickel to give him a stern reprimand from malingering. I sensed from the start that there was something not quite right with him. That day when he first came into the room, Nickel seemed too energetic for a man who thought he might be having a heart attack. As it turns out, he wasn't experiencing chest pains after all. The truth was that he owed several packs of cigarettes to another man, and could not pay up.
This was apparent shortly after Nickel entered the hospital. His cell block was scheduled to go to the commissary on the day he just happened to feel ill. Within no time after arriving there, Nickel put on his prison pajamas and then retreated under the covers of his bed, coming from under the covers only to eat or use the toilet. Also, a couple of the inmate orderlies who work in the hospital and enter the room several times per day to bring our food trays and to empty the trash cans, kept giving verbal messages to Nickel from the guy he owed the cigarettes to. The man wanted his tobacco and he was sending messages through these men to let Nickel know.
In a way it's kind of funny. Fat Mister Nickel, in debt by about twenty dollars for a few packs of cigarettes, had to create an elaborate hoax which included chest pains, so as to buy a few more weeks of time from the fellow he owed the packs to. Now, however, he has since returned to the housing area where the man whom he owes money to lives. No doubt that man will get his cigarettes eventually. For now Nickel's options have run out.
D.B.
I wasn't at all surprised. I watched as the doctor pointed a finer at Nickel to give him a stern reprimand from malingering. I sensed from the start that there was something not quite right with him. That day when he first came into the room, Nickel seemed too energetic for a man who thought he might be having a heart attack. As it turns out, he wasn't experiencing chest pains after all. The truth was that he owed several packs of cigarettes to another man, and could not pay up.
This was apparent shortly after Nickel entered the hospital. His cell block was scheduled to go to the commissary on the day he just happened to feel ill. Within no time after arriving there, Nickel put on his prison pajamas and then retreated under the covers of his bed, coming from under the covers only to eat or use the toilet. Also, a couple of the inmate orderlies who work in the hospital and enter the room several times per day to bring our food trays and to empty the trash cans, kept giving verbal messages to Nickel from the guy he owed the cigarettes to. The man wanted his tobacco and he was sending messages through these men to let Nickel know.
In a way it's kind of funny. Fat Mister Nickel, in debt by about twenty dollars for a few packs of cigarettes, had to create an elaborate hoax which included chest pains, so as to buy a few more weeks of time from the fellow he owed the packs to. Now, however, he has since returned to the housing area where the man whom he owes money to lives. No doubt that man will get his cigarettes eventually. For now Nickel's options have run out.
D.B.
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