32 Days and The Sentence Continues…


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No, this is not a Supermax or Maximum Security facility, but it might as well be the way I feel. I know they are working on me in a good way, but it’s too long for someone who wasn’t mashed up in a massive traffic accident. I was informed yesterday that broken bone takes 8 weeks to heal and soft tissue damage takes 12 weeks!!! Three months!!!!! That and the inability to stand on foot after being able to do so a day ago baffles me and literally made me sick to my stomach. It was the first time I recall ever throwing up from terror that made me sick to my stomach. First of all I rarely throw up, second I do not know if I have ever felt the panic I felt after being told they think I have a hairline fracture that has yet been detected. All I thought was I’m never getting out of here. It immediately sickened me after being here more than a month. If I could get at the walls I would start some hash marks with the call light (an inefficient piece of equipment apparently left in the room for show in these type of prisons).

 

A bone scan has been suggested. Not sure when or if that will actually happen. I have to get moving because the longer I stay in this bed the longer I’ll stay in this bed. I pray about the reasons I am here and why the universe and I conspired to make this happen. I know a good portion is my unconscious living on borrowed time by not taking care of my health and the meat suit God gave me to use as a vehicle on this earth. However there are too many things that went into place days to a month before it all happened as if this was a planned event. The way anyone found out I was here is still a mystery with a cryptic email from me although I didn’t have a computer and didn’t know how to use the smart phone that I never used, but somehow grabbed before my medical “arrest” and incarceration. The people I’ve met, the indecencies I’ve experienced etc., it all means more than an acute sprain. How I see and want to interact with the world changed even more than when the fractured FAM laid out their nonsensical assault on my sibs and I. I get it that grief makes people a little crazy…but literally their latent clinical crazy rose to the surface like a sea monster. All of this is no accident and the puzzle still has me stymied, but I have big picture vision and it will be revealed eventually. In the meantime, I’ll continue to plan my escape from Alcatraz.

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