Living with my twin daughters, one topic you’d hear about and somewhat often is going to prison and not being able to come home. There is an underlying fear of longterm or permanent separation. I’ve helped them the best I can reshape their view of cops from the negative but who am I kidding, I don’t like them either. The thought of doing any crime has them terrified of being taken away and removed from life as they know it including being without the ones they love.
Today is day 21 of hospitalization for my sweet daughter Lexis and it might as well be simply the first 3 weeks of her prison incarceration, to her. Sure, the guards are prettier and more caring. The food is decent if not good, and snacks and drinks are available 24/7 and hand delivered. You can watch TV and movies. Helpers come and provide gifts and company to help pass the time.
And family..the biggest difference between prison and an extended hospital stay. Family comes daily and often spends the night. Phone calls and texts are sent and received around the clock. The prisoner, Lexis, sees me go but she knows I will return the next day. Friends and church family come and go as well, trying to bring her as much cheer as possible.
The three IV lines, the catheter, the oxygen tubing and the blood pressure cuff are her hand and ankle cuffs. They are her shackles. A far cry from the cocktail that is lethal injection, yet she is filled with enough antibiotics daily to treat a full grown horse. She is bound to her cell by these chains. She even has her own washroom chair with her within her four walls. The window is large; it offers a view, light and shade. But from this room, she cannot escape. She is held hostage. She must offer up her sickness in return for freedom and a full pardon, yet she clings to the disease, not yet willing to let go.
And it’s only gotten worse. For two point whatever weeks she was in minimum security and though she couldn’t leave, it was a joke compared to this. Now she is in the hole and has been there for days. She has gone backwards and her taste of parole has instantly vanished. Oh sure, one day she will set foot on free terrain but for an undisclosed amount of time she is at the mercy of the warden and he is unforgiving as he is cold.
With her weak immune system, a sentence served seems like a pipe dream. Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t lost all hope, in fact, all I have is hope. Things will improve. She will go back to a regular unit. She will be released before the 3.5 weeks left of her antibiotic clock. She will be happy again, as will us all. Her grandmother, her brother, her sister and me. When will we wake from within this nightmare?