Skipping lots of in between to speak about the present...
My whole idea about these blog posts recounting the experience of my dad in prison was supposed to be pretty chronological, but I'm skipping some stuff to bring up what my family and father are going through right now and what's been going on for about a month. In the beginning of the year, my father let us know that he had an EKG at the facility hospital and was told he needed to have surgery "soon". He was not told when this would happen, so for awhile we were all pretty much holding our breath knowing he could be taken off the facility and into a hospital somewhere in Long Beach or San Pedro at any moment. Turns out that was in the middle of March when they decided he would be taken to the hospital. My mother and I went to visit him on a Monday and this is what happened: a guard calls "S***** Family!". So we meet a guard and he takes us outside. He tells us "you can't visit today. I cannot tell you anything else but you can call his unit manager for more information." THAT'S IT. We figured this was it- this is when they took dad in to have heart surgery. So from the car and all the way home my mother and I tried calling Terminal Island (even though we were just there... it's mind blowing they couldn't have enough courtesy to just have someone come out and speak to us but hey, it's all a part of the punishment...). NO ONE WOULD ANSWER THE PHONE AT TI. We didn't hear from someone until Wednesday. Finally my mother spoke to dad's unit manager and was told "your husband is off the facility. he's fine. he was taken to a hospital under an alias to have a procedure done but I can tell you he's fine." No details given. Of course this was after some jerk guard told my mother to stop calling for info because inmate info is not public information and if anything happens (like dad DIES) she will be called. Dad returned to the prison facility the following week. It took about two weeks before mom got to speak with dad over the phone. Two weeks of complete agony for my poor mother. While everyone else gets to be with loved ones when they're in the hospital having huge procedures done, we didn't even know where my dad was and what he was having done to him. Turns out he had an angiogram, a procedure to fix his aortic stenosis (shut heart valve) and a pace maker put in. And just so we're all clear, this all is on the governments dime... If dad was at home on house arrest, my parents health insurance and my parents would have foot the bill. Mom and I went to see dad that next friday. He came out looking pretty good for everything he'd gone through. It was a good visit. But we were surprised he didn't have a walker. The guard who checked us in made sure we were given close seats to the entrance where inmates come in because he was told my dad was going to be in a walker. Well miscommunication because some other guard didn't ALLOW my dad to bring his walker... which ended poorly. At the end of the visit I kept insisting I help my dad up and help walk him to his area where he waits to go back into the prison and gets searched by a guard. He of course insisted I not help him seeing as though I was almost 6 months pregnant at the time and didn't want to cause me harm (he's a large man). Well right after mom and I walked out, he fell pretty badly... it caused a scene, especially because the guards REFUSED TO HELP HIM (one time he could not get up from his seat and asked a guard for help and a guard said "no I'm not risking myself for YOU as if my dad was a disgusting worthless piece of human waste). So here he is, a 350lb elderly man CRAWLING INTO THE ENTRANCE so other inmates in the "searching area" could help him up. That landed him right back into the facility hospital and pushed back his recovery greatly. We went to go see him just two days later that Sunday and dad was a total 180 from that friday. He looked like he'd aged 10yrs in two days. He came out in a huge, obnoxious walker that day. He looked old and I hate to say it, but it's the first time in my life that i actually thought "my dad is dying." That's the last time we've seen him in two weeks. We tried to go visit him the following weekend but every time my mom would try to schedule a visit, he would say he was just too tired and weak to have us visit. Last Sunday (exactly a week after we'd seen him) my mother spoke to him... We have yet to hear from him since. My mother says she had a feeling they ended up taking him to an off facility hospital because he was having trouble breathing and his recovery is very tough on him. Thursday my mother got a call from a stranger explaining she is the wife of an inmate who was in the terminal island hospital with my father and her husband wanted her to call my mom and let her know my dad was taken to another hospital. Interesting that this is information we should be getting from employees at terminal island. Interesting that the most courteous, generous, helpful and understanding people are my fathers fellow inmates, not the people on the government payroll. And believe me, my mother has attempted to call MULTIPLE times to terminal island to ask about my father and his condition... They give her the run around, don't answer questions and send her to extensions that don't work or cut the connection. So here we are, playing the waiting game. Not knowing what is happening to my father. The only thing that's for sure is he's chained to a hospital bed and has not one but TWO guards with him in his room at all time, costing approximately $2500/ day in government payroll, aka our tax dollars, to make sure my 64 yr old completely out of shape fresh out of heart surgery father doesn't try to escape.