This letter was written by a person incarcerated at CMC (California Men’s Colony).
Well, here in one of the most secure places in the prison COVID ran rampant. Both of my neighbors caught it. The cell to the left of me and the cell to the right. No one knows how.
The hole is a dirty place. At least eight people on my tier have had it and I can only imagine the sense of helplessness that comes with that.
Out in society at least you can go to a hospital and receive at least marginally decent care. Here? They move you to the other side of the building, lock you in a box, tell you to drink plenty of water, and good luck, Chuck!
If you want to go to an actual hospital you’ll either need to die and be brought back or so near to death that they can hear the grim reaper’s bones clackin’ in the background.
One of my neighbors has come back off of quarantine and he’s fine. I doubt that I could’ve caught it from either one of them, but even if it was that highly transmittable it wouldn’t matter. Because I can’t move away. I am stuck much like that fly and almost completely alone. Almost.
I have stayed COVID free and I am no doubt blessed. Then out of the blue, I get a letter from PrisonPandemic. Thanks again for contacting me. It is like a breeze off of the California coast.
So many people have lost this battle. Quite a few of them without cause beyond preventing, and that is what hurts even me in this little tucked away box. However, we are Americans and we will rise above this. Eventually we’ll come together and move as a nation. It’s who we are.
