This letter was written by a person incarcerated at Chino.
Let’s back up to July 2018. One day, out of the blue, I get some tests done on my liver, and boom. The next day I’m called in to the counselor’s office, told that I’m being transferred, due to being ‘high-risk medical’. I was confused, caught off guard, and figured there was a mistake. But within days, I’m seen by a doctor, told I’m terminal, that I’m stage four end-stage liver disease, stage four cirrhosis. And referred to a pysch because of the terminal diagnosis.
Now, for some background. I keep myself in amazing shape, run about 20 to 32 laps five times a week, which is five to eight miles. I do hours of cardio and working out daily. And I’m known as a really fit guy, body super cut-up, eight-pack, etc. To be told that I’m dying was crazy, so out of the blue. I felt good, just really didn’t understand. And I was scared to tell my family, not wanting to worry them.
But I did tell my best friend, this amazing girl who’s been in my life for years. She was really surprised by it, and wanted to tell my family, said I needed to. But, being stubborn, and scared to break my poor mum’s heart even further, I didn’t, not at first.
So I get transferred to a prison that’s got the medical level of care I need, and then get moved again seven to eight months later. Now I’m at San Quentin, loving it, but also really hurting inside, knowing that I’ve only got a couple years to live. And fast forward, I get moved to here, Chino.
