The past several weeks have been times of physical afflictions for me...
On January 7th, I tore some ligaments in the ring finger of my left hand. This happened while I was playing basketball with the inmates from the Intermediate Care Program, which I'm required to do.
Immediately after I was injured, the corrections officer who was on duty at the gymnasium sent me to the prison's infirmary, where x-rays were taken to see if my finger was dislocated or even broken. Thankfully, only some ligaments were torn. But the doctor had to place my finger in a splint. The splint must remain on for four to six weeks. Amazingly, my typing has not been affected, although I'm a little slower at hitting the keys.
Then on Monday, January 26th, I sat down at a table in the recreation area of the cell block where I live to help another man write a letter to his mother. I did not know, however, that he had the flu. So, having already obligated myself, I got stuck having to sit directly across from him as he continuously coughed in my face.
It's kind of funny because when I asked Alvin why he didn't warn me that he was sick, he kept insisting with a straight face that he wasn't sick at all. I knew better, of course.
This was the first time I've ever met someone who was in denial that he had the flu, even though his nose was running like a faucet and as he emitted a wet, hacking cough every other minute. Yet, here I was, stuck in a seat as I helplessly got blasted by millions of flu virus and cold germs.
I knew I was in trouble. And even though as soon as I finished his letter, I ran upstairs to my cell to wash my hands in hot soapy water, I had the gut feelings that it was too late. I was right! Sure enough, when I awoke at about 5:30 the following morning, my throat was sore, and I could hardly talk. I had a bad case of laryngitis.
I had to work all day Tuesday, even though I sounded like a frog when I tried to talk. By Tuesday evening, I had chills and I felt weak. I knew what was coming.
By Wednesday morning, I felt like the walking dead. I also began to develop the same wet, hacking cough that Alvin had.
To top this off, on Monday morning, my left kneecap began to swell. I suppose this was from an old injury. The kneecap area began to fill with fluid and every step I had to take was with excruciating pain. I had to limp everywhere, and I was in throbbing pain even when I was sitting down. Only yesterday the swelling began to decrease and now I could walk much better.
I'll be fine. The Lord will heal me. But this week I got almost nothing accomplished. All I did was sleep every chance I got.
D.B.
Immediately after I was injured, the corrections officer who was on duty at the gymnasium sent me to the prison's infirmary, where x-rays were taken to see if my finger was dislocated or even broken. Thankfully, only some ligaments were torn. But the doctor had to place my finger in a splint. The splint must remain on for four to six weeks. Amazingly, my typing has not been affected, although I'm a little slower at hitting the keys.
Then on Monday, January 26th, I sat down at a table in the recreation area of the cell block where I live to help another man write a letter to his mother. I did not know, however, that he had the flu. So, having already obligated myself, I got stuck having to sit directly across from him as he continuously coughed in my face.
It's kind of funny because when I asked Alvin why he didn't warn me that he was sick, he kept insisting with a straight face that he wasn't sick at all. I knew better, of course.
This was the first time I've ever met someone who was in denial that he had the flu, even though his nose was running like a faucet and as he emitted a wet, hacking cough every other minute. Yet, here I was, stuck in a seat as I helplessly got blasted by millions of flu virus and cold germs.
I knew I was in trouble. And even though as soon as I finished his letter, I ran upstairs to my cell to wash my hands in hot soapy water, I had the gut feelings that it was too late. I was right! Sure enough, when I awoke at about 5:30 the following morning, my throat was sore, and I could hardly talk. I had a bad case of laryngitis.
I had to work all day Tuesday, even though I sounded like a frog when I tried to talk. By Tuesday evening, I had chills and I felt weak. I knew what was coming.
By Wednesday morning, I felt like the walking dead. I also began to develop the same wet, hacking cough that Alvin had.
To top this off, on Monday morning, my left kneecap began to swell. I suppose this was from an old injury. The kneecap area began to fill with fluid and every step I had to take was with excruciating pain. I had to limp everywhere, and I was in throbbing pain even when I was sitting down. Only yesterday the swelling began to decrease and now I could walk much better.
I'll be fine. The Lord will heal me. But this week I got almost nothing accomplished. All I did was sleep every chance I got.
D.B.
