Also:

Eric and I went to see "Good Night And Good Luck" tonight. A movie on a school night. What a life!

We want to see all five on the Academy Award nominees for Best Picture this year. We'd already seen Crash (my favorite so far) and Brokeback Mountain... so the remaining movies are Capote and Munich. We'll see!

I could have told them that!

The New York Times reported on a study published in the journal Psychological Science, which found that women who are under extreme stress experience immediate relief when they hold their husbands' hands.

Duh!

Driving to Work

At least at Eric's school students like to wear little kid backpacks.  I was commenting to Eric this morning on how funny it was to see big, 17 year old, boys wearing Strawberry Shortcake bags, and almost grown up looking girls wearing Dora the Explorer. 

 

Eric pointed out one young woman who was wearing a Spongebob backpack.  He told me that last year she wore a backpack that said "98 Trick Ass Ho", which apparently meant that she was touting herself as a ho for the 98th Street gang. 

 

Eric said he didn't think she was actually a ho for the 98th Street Gang, but he felt that her backpack might give 'em ideas.  He turned the girl in to the Assistant Principal.

 

I hate me some Spongebob, but even I admit that that's an approvement to trick ass ho.

Clean

This weekend I am cleaning out the closet in my bedroom. I organize that closet once a year or so, and swear that I'll never let it get out-of-control again, and then it does get out-of-control. But this time is different.

I am throwing stuff away -- throwing away clothes that should have been tossed years & years ago. I have a pile of clothes to donate, and three trash bags (so far) full of clothes that are destined for a landfill.

I'm getting rid of clothes that are old (sweaters with frayed sleeves, pilly cordoroy, stretched collars) and also clothes that just aren't comfy enough for me anymore -- anything scritchy scratchy, no matter how pretty or flattering, must go.

I'm also getting rid of almost all of my sentimental items: the t-shirt I wore at 18, the little denim skirt that's (literally) 10 digits smaller than what I'd buy now (and I thought I was fat when I wore it). I'm too old, I have too much cancer in my bones, to be weighed down with cotton t-shirt memories.

Eric asked me to keep my leather jacket. He gave it to me on our first Christmas together, and I wore & wore & wore it. I'll keep it. There'll be plenty of room now that I only have clothes that I actually wear.

Going through & getting rid of my stuff will be a monumental task for Eric when I'm gone -- assuming that I die first, which is certainly the trend. I don't want it to be harder than it needs to be.

Who wants my report cards from elementary school, or the birthday card my grandparents gave me when I was eight? It's unlikely that my children would even want those things, had I had 'em. But I didn't have 'em. Eric and I had each other, instead... the smallest possible family unit, and it's been good. Goodgoodgood.

I'd better get back to work.

Texas

Diane Wilson, co-founder of code pink, is serving a 150-day sentence in a Texas jail for misdemeanor trespassing, related to a political action at a Dow Chemical plant. Her experience in the Victoria County jail is horrifying. This is her open letter to Sheriff Browning.

January 20th, 2006
Sheriff T. Michael O'Connor
Victoria County
101 North Glass Street
Victoria, TX 77901

CC:

Sheriff B.B. Browning
Calhoun County
211 South Ann Street
Port Lavaca, TX 77979

(Additional CC recipients are listed at the end of letter.)

Dear Sheriff O'Connor:

I am a female inmate in the Victoria County Jail, TX, though I was arrested on criminal trespass charges in Calhoun County. I was given a sentence of 150 days plus a $2,000 fine for protesting Dow Chemical Company's refusal to appear in Indian courts in response to charges against its wholly-owned subsidiary, Union Carbide, and its treatment of the survivors of the toxic-leak disaster in Bhopal, India, where a catastrophic pesticide release has killed over 20,000 people to date.

I am a fairly new inmate and have only been here since December 10, 2005, yet I have a number of grievances. Many of these come from other inmates and you may ask why they don't report them themselves. Well, it's pretty simple: there is absolutely no effective avenue to raise issues and if there is, the inmates have certainly not been made aware of it. There is a standard form that inmates can use to make an attempt at communication, but the response can take anywhere between a week to never.

There is no information available, no pamphlet explaining the procedures or the rights of the inmates or even something as simple as "when is commissary."

I asked to see the law library since the inmates rarely see legal counsel, but was told that there is not one available. If inmates ask for legal counsel they are told, "You'll see one when your trial comes up," and usually that's ten minutes before one goes to trial.

The women in this jail are predominantly African American or Hispanic and very poor. Most of their offenses are minor, for things like traffic tickets or soliciting or violating probation - all non-violent, yet they are forced to remain in the cell without counsel for long periods of time. I don't think I am bringing up any issue that you are not aware of. I spoke with someone within the jail system (I will not name him), and he is aware of the length of time inmates have to wait for legal counsel and a trial. He has talked to a judge about the problem and the judge apparently said something along the lines of, "Yes, we got a problem."

So you can understand my concern to at least have access to a law library. Though jail personnel told me that the only time access to a law library is provided is when legal counsel isn't available, I have still not had access to either.

When I requested, nonetheless, access to the law library on my title form, a week later I got the answer, "We do not have a WRIT ROOM." Well, that certainly explains everything. No WRIT ROOM. No Law Library.

Next, I asked for the jail's standards. These are the minimum standards that jails have to maintain, and inmates have the legal right to request and receive a copy of the standards. When I made my request I got a response a good week and a half later asking, "what's your concern?"

My concern is that inmates have no voice, no access to legal counsel, no law library, no WRIT Room, no jail standards. That is my concern, but you can bet I didn't write that on the next form I dropped. I could see I'd be "dropping forms" until this jail slid to hell in a breadbasket. So this is partly why I am writing you. I figure that you are next in the chain of command, and I am listing not only permission to see the jail standards for ALL inmates - but other grievances and concerns that have come up in the time I have been here.

Health Care

I don't know if you are aware of the series of investigative stories by Mike Ward and Bill Bishop of the Austin American Statesman about the dismal state of health care in the Texas state prison system. What the reporters were able to discover was a systematic neglect and mistreatment of ill prisoners, the use of healthcare as a means of punishment, and stupid, dangerous mis-administration of medicine that can lead to viral and bacterial resistance and potential epidemics - epidemics that will hardly remain within prison walls.

I know that the state prison system is separate from the county jails, but if you haven't read this report, then you should, because similar neglect is happening in your jailhouse. I have only been here one month, in one cellblock, and have collected these three instances directly from the inmates about their experiences with the Victoria County Jail. The cases cover approximately 10 years, so you can see this is a long-term problem and seems to be continuing a legacy that the Texas prison system has built for itself. It seems to be downright overkill to repeat that, yes, all these girls are very young and poor, and either Hispanic or African-American.

1. Mary DeLeon

Ms. DeLeon was jailed for 18 months in the county jail on drug charges. The entire 18 months Ms. DeLeon was jailed, she was suffering due to gallstones. The response from the healthcare of the jail was to dispense Milk of Magnesia and tell her to lie down on her cot. Eventually, Ms. Deleon's condition got so bad that she was shaking and had chills and fainting spells. Again, the response was Milk of Magnesium. Finally, towards the end of her 18-month sentence, Ms DeLeon collapsed in pain and an inmate called the guards. Mary was rushed to Citizens Hospital, where it was found that her gallbladder had ruptured. She was told that they almost lost her. Ms. DeLeon did not file a lawsuit for criminal neglect because she was afraid that she would be punished and lose her position as trustee in the jail.

2. Lacy Leyva

Ms. Leyva had been arrested and jailed for one month. During that time Ms. Leyva was suffering severe pain in her kidneys, but she was only given ibuprofen every 8 hours for the pain. Pain and chills were a steady diet for Ms. Leyva, but she was only given advice to lie down and take ibuprofen. Finally, after one month, Ms. Leyva was discharged and she went to the hospital and was immediately admitted for kidney failure. After Ms. Leyva was discharged from the hospital, she got a call from the jail on her cell phone saying, "Go to the hospital. We believe your kidneys are failing."

3. Shandra Williams

Ms. Williams was picked up on a warrant even though her file stated that Ms. Williams should not be picked up because she was 6-7 months pregnant and she had a very rare uterine condition. However, Ms. Williams was thrown in jail while pregnant, and her condition worsened. She began bleeding, and the nurse was reluctant to believe her and said, "show me your bloody pad." So Ms. Williams was subjected to the humiliation of proving that she was really in pain and bleeding.

Eventually, Ms. Williams was put in isolation where she was removed from contact with people, which Ms. Williams hated. This was her first child and she was very afraid since no medical staff was around. Eventually, to keep her from complaining, Ms. Williams was given Benadryl.

When Ms. Williams was finally returned to the cell, her water broke. She was told that she was hallucinating, that her water hadn't broken. Then the nurse told her that she shouldn't worry, she wouldn't have a baby until a month later. Then they proceeded to put Ms. Williams back into isolation, even though she was frantic not to go where there was no contact with people. Ms. Williams was alarmed about the baby coming early, especially since the nurse had expressed great disdain for even performing a sonogram to determine the baby's condition.

When Ms. Williams became agitated about going into isolation, the sergeant told her that she was going into isolation "the easy way or the hard way," and the hard way was being shocked with a taser gun. A female guard was so alarmed that she grabbed Ms. Williams' stuff and coaxed her to the isolation room.

Sure enough, Ms. Williams proceeded to go into labor without anyone present and the baby was coming out breach! Worse still, the baby was arriving while Ms. Williams was on the toilet; so to get help Ms. Williams had to crawl approximately 60 feet to reach a button on the wall. After three attempts to call and saying that she was in labor, a female guard arrived. The baby was hanging with its feet first down around Ms. Williams' knees.

There was pandemonium followed by a rushed ride in the ambulance to the hospital. The baby was dead and Ms. Williams was handed the dead child in a blanket. She was not told that the baby was dead, and she only realized the fact when she saw on her own that the child was not moving or breathing. No attempt was made to call her husband. When, much later, he got word, he rushed to see his new baby. He was handed the dead baby in a blanket. Ms. Williams was not even allowed to attend the baby's funeral. Later, Ms. Williams said that you, Sheriff O'Connor, called her into your office and told her that the unfortunate incident was not your fault, but the fault of the jail administration under the previous sheriff, Michael Ratcliff.

Given the long-term consequences and terrible suffering imposed on these women, it is my hope that you will take this situation seriously and give it the consideration it deserves.

Cell Window

Another complaint is that the only window within our cellblock is either covered with a Venetian blind or plastered with paper. We never know the time but are told that we are on 'short time' and don't have need of another. You would think that locking a person in a cinder block cell for months on end for a trespassing misdemeanor is sufficient punishment, but apparently not! I feel that the stress levels of the inmates would be reduced with more visibility through the window, and stress is a real problem here.

Reading Material

This might be a good time to point out a piece of paper plastered to our window. It is a memorandum to all inmates that, henceforth, no books bought from bookstores will be accepted. This is a jail where the library consists of a single metal cart with about 30 dog-eared romance novels.

In this county jail, few diversions are allowed - I might even say none - and perhaps that is one reason why these women inmates make roses out of toilet paper and create their own stationery out of toothpaste and map colors. I am a little reluctant to tell you this in the fear that the guards will make a run on the roses and confiscate them as "contraband."

What this jail administration hopes to accomplish by refusing reading material to the inmates is beyond me. It seems counter-productive to any form or rehabilitation and only exists to cruelly punish the jail population.

Access to High School Equivalency Program

Since most of the inmates are very poor, young and from minority groups, I was astonished to discover that while GED (high school equivalency program) is offered, it is also used as punishment. A 32-year-old woman in my cell who is struggling to better herself and raise her nine-year-old child, had entered the GED program, but was kicked out because she passed a note in class. This is merely one instance I've heard. But I know for a fact that many inmates do not have their GED. I wonder about the jail's reluctance to encourage the inmates to pursue their GED. It is a well-known fact that a person with a GED receives higher paying jobs than a person who doesn't, they have more job satisfaction, and they are less likely to get in trouble with the law in the future. Kicking a woman out of a GED class for passing a note sounds totally counter-productive!

Humiliating Treatment

I realize that some of these grievances may mean nothing to you and you may be thinking that the treatment meted out in Texas prisons is nothing like the kind of abuse in Abu Ghraib in Iraq. That's true, for what it's worth, but I want to inform you that I've read reliable reports, and have experienced horrendous treatment myself. While I was in the Harris County jail in Houston for five days, I joined fellow inmates stacked into cold holding tanks for hours and hours so that we were forced to sleep on cement floors strewn with trash and waste from backed-up toilets, while guards showed up at periodic intervals yelling "Pigs!" We were eventually shuffled into rooms where we were forced to strip our clothes and ordered to parade in our panties, then spread-eagled on the wall. These were women, some picked up merely on traffic violations, who hadn't even been produced in front of a judge or seen a lawyer yet! Then 70 of us were packed into a 10- x 20-foot holding cell for over an hour. A guard occasionally opened the door and calls us "stupid bitches!" because the noise was loud.

On December 10th, I was transferred to Victoria County jail, where I was kept in a freezing holding tank for over six hours, then put into the cell where I am currently housed, with only one thin mat to sleep on a concrete floor. I was not given a blanket or sheet or any type of hygiene kit because I was told there were none available. I never received a blanket from the jail. After 3 days, an inmate who left the cell gave me her blanket. Then too, after about three days, I received a hygiene kit so I could finally brush my teeth and comb my hair. All prior requests for a towel or toothbrush were met with "Drop a form."

In my experiences I consider myself relatively lucky, and because of my activism I have supporters outside who have constantly supported me by calling the jail and sending letters.

Most inmates are not so fortunate. This letter is partly for them. It is said that a civilization is judged by how it treats its weakest members. It is my hope that you will recognize the seriousness of your job and of the issues raised in this letter and respond accordingly.

Sincerely,
Diane Wilson

CC:

Mr. Tim Smith
Jail Administrator
211 South Ann Street
Port Lavaca, TX 77979

Honorable Judge Michael Pfeifer
Calhoun County
211 South Ann St.
Port Lavaca, TX 77979

Honorable Judge Robert C. Cheshire
377th Judicial District
Victoria County Courthouse
115 North Bridge
Victoria, TX 77901

Honorable Judge Donald R. Pozzi
Victoria County Courthouse
115 North Bridge
Victoria, TX 77901

Honorable Judge Joseph P. Kelly
24th Judicial District
Victoria County Courthouse
115 North Bridge
Victoria, TX 77901

Honorable Judge Juergen Koetter
267th Judicial District
Victoria County Courthouse
115 North Bridge
Victoria, TX 77901

Honorable Judge Kemper Stephen Williams
135th Judicial District
Victoria County Courthouse
115 North Bridge
Victoria, TX 77901

Mr. Jerry Julian
Executive Director
Texas Commission on Jail Standards
P.O. Box 12985
Austin, TX 78711-2985

Ms. Terri Dollar
Deputy Director
Texas Commission on Jail Standards
P.O. Box 12985
Austin, TX 78711-2985

Mr. Shannon Herklotz
Inmate Grievances
Texas Commission on Jail Standards
P.O. Box 12985
Austin, TX 78711-2985

Honorable Governor Rick Perry
State of Texas
P.O. Box 12428
Austin, TX 78711-2428

The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20500

Office of the Attorney General
P.O. Box 12548
Austin, TX 78711-2548

Mr. Greg Gladden
Vice President Houston Chapter
American Civil Liberties Union
3017 Houston Avenue
Houston, TX 77009-6734

Ms. Jodie Evans
Code Pink
2010 Linden Avenue
Venice, CA 90291-3912

Just thinking.

In my life as a worker bee I've crushed Teddy Ruxpins and I've manufactured egg crate mattresses. I've sold chateaubriand, cigarettes, slurpies, and lottery tickets. I've transcribed legal briefs. I've sold French roast. I've collected money and audited bills from insurance companies. I've surfed the internet. I've taken breaks. I've answered phones.

I've never done anything like what I'm doing now. Now I help children and families be more healthy. I do other things, too. I push paper and generate reports and prepare for audits. But I also help children and families be more healthy.

It's so much better from selling coffee -- even really good coffee.

Sleepy

I met with the Old School Peetniks after work tonight, to say goodbye to an old co-worker who's moving to Belgium. It was fun. I laughed.

MondayMonday

I've been hot to make plans lately. I've been dreaming of summer... I have the whole summer more or less blocked out, plans contingent on my health of course & dammit.

After I'd sketched out summer, I looked at the rest of the coming year, and sketched that out as well. It's a problem. I have a problem, clearly, but I can't figure out exactly what it is.

I've started to fill out an application for a retreat. I'm not sure that I even want to go, but I'll working on the application anyway. One of the questions was: How are you feeling emotionally? I'll have to think about that one.

Eric is looking particularly adorable tonight.

More than anything... more than aaaaaaaanything.... I want Eric to be happy.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn

Eric's mother was here for the weekend.  She's easy -- she doesn't want to be entertained... she just wants to sit and talk.  Sitting and talking is exhausting in its own way.

 

It was nice to see her.  Still, what I really like is to spend time with Eric. 

 

It's Monday and I'm at work.  I feel like I haven't had a weekend.  I feel like I could go back to bed and sleep ten more hours.

 

I wish I could!  I really, really do!

I'm at work...

... and still sleepy.  I had crazy dreams all night -- dreams of a strange life as a con artist, I think, with all sorts of odd family relationships and self-serving machinations.

 

Now I'm at work and as always there's plenty to do.

 

I printed out calendar pages of June, July, and August yesterday, and sketched out our summer plans.  It's a work in a progress, and really just a dream, right now.  We won't make any solid plans until after my February appointments (all 64 of them) with medical professionals.

 

Putting my plans on hold is irksome to me, to say the least.

Feels Like Sunday

We had a quiet weekend. I don't want to go to work tomorrow but I won't complain too loudly about a four day work week.

I've put together a few photographs from 2005 -- no recommended for folks with slooooooow connections.

http://www.ohmartha.com/2005review

That's all!

TGI a 3-day Weekend.

I went today for my monthly abdominal injection of the ovary-mummifying pencil lead. I had a new nurse... a fella who introduced himself to me by saying, "I've never used one this big before, I hope I don't hurt you too much. I don't like to hurt people."

I told him that I didn't think it would hurt too much. He said, "I mean, look at this thing," and held up the syringe. Good Lord.

It was a nice day despite my sleepiness. I didn't get as much work done as I wanted, but I sure laughed a lot.

A Whole Heap o' YakYakYak

I want to say something true, but I don't know what. There's no point in telling lies in a vanity blog at nearly one in the morning.

I wish I were made of sterner stuff. Today after work I read the official report from my bone scan. It arrived in the mail in one of those Kaiser envelopes that I've come to dread. I didn't learn anything new really. I knew that the cancer had spread to a vertebrae, and a few (three) ribs. I learned that there's suspected involvement of another vertebrae, and also involvement of my pelvis and another bone (that Eric and I had to look up on the internet).

This wasn't really new, but still... the words on the page were upsetting to me. I wanted to cry. I played computer games and vaguely listened to Iron Chef on the television instead.

I really do wish I were made of sterner stuff.

I guess we spend our whole lives gathering (or not gathering) little bits of gumption like acorns. We pile up all of our strengths, all of the ways we know to cope with disappointment or fear or whatever, and hope it lasts us through whatever winters fate throws our way.

When my mother was sick with cancer I would sometimes lie in bed and read to her a bit. When she was dying from cancer she said she was too tired to listen, so I would just lie there. I told her that I didn't think it was "her time" to die -- that my gut told me it wasn't true, and that there were probably all sorts of things out there that could help her.

For a few years there she had fallen under the influence of Shirley MacLaine. She would try to read auras (limited success), and she drank moon water (tap water that was left outside under a waxing moon) to aid her in her attempts at astral projection. Laugh if you'd like. At least she didn't dabble in Christ.

Anyway... lying in bed with her, I suggested that there might be some sort of alternative therapy or healing that would work for her. She believed in that kinda stuff, right? I remember her response very clearly. "You can research that if you'd like. I'm too tired to read, I'm too tired to think."

I feel pretty okay, and I already have an inkling of what she meant.

Hopefully, hopefully, I have a long haul ahead of me. Tonight I just feel it's pathetic that I have so few acorns. And I'm too tired to gather more. I'm too tired to read, I'm too tired to think.

And another thing (she said), I'm afraid that long before I'm gone I'll stop being me. I'll be in pain or drugged up -- one of the two, certainly -- and I'll just die by drips and drabs. It's deeply troubling to my controlling nature to imagine this.

I need to toughen up, somehow. Soon!

Not Hot

I had a fever yesterday that never dropped below 100 degrees.  It started around noon, hovered at 101pointwhatever for most of the afternoon, peaked at 102 in the early evening, and hadn't gone away when I went to bed at 8:30 PM and slept for ten hours.

 

This morning I feel fine.  I hope it stays that way!

 

I'm at work and there's plenty to do, even though I have virtually no will to do it.  It's been a busy morning already.

 

Back to work!

Update from the Recliner II

This from Good Morning America: Cupcakes are hot right now.

Update from the Recliner

Oprah promo: The child was born with two heads. Doctors are perplexed. The child you'll want to meet, next on Oprah.

Broken Record

I'm a broken record when it comes to Eric.  I know I am -- I just don't know what else to do.

 

We've had two weeks off and have spent almost every moment together, but it's not enough.  We've been apart for an hour or two, here and there, but that's about it.  There's never enough time to spend with Eric.

 

We've had house guests for seven nights of our two weeks off.  The largest group at one time was on New Year's Eve, when we had six folks staying over.

 

We attended two concerts, and one play.

 

We went to church, and heard our wonderful friend Tom play his harp (beautifully).

 

We served an elaborate Christmas dinner to family and friends.

 

We had dinner at our favorite San Francisco restaurant.

 

We bought a new car.

 

We learned that the cancer had progressed to my vertebrae and ribs.

 

We took a roadtrip to Reno with Lisa.

 

We played poker with friends.

 

We actually completed the Doodle Art we started more than a decade ago.

 

... and that's really just scratching the surface.  There's so much more that happened, and all of it -- every moment -- was framed by my love and life with my husband.

 

I should be in bed.  I'm working tomorrow, and I'll be tired and it'll be hard. 

 

 

 

The Last Weekend

Eric and I took down the Christmas tree today. Vacation is definitely winding down. Back to work on Monday, then the monthly, two-hour, infusion of Aredia on Tuesday afternoon.

Reno was fun... nice to be there with Lisa, nice (as always) to spend time with Eric. My pain increased over the Reno trip, but seems to be a bit better today. I don't know what it means. I hurt more, I hurt less, the cancer seems to grow & grow... there doesn't seem to be a pattern accept progression.

I started to count the ornaments as I took them off the Christmas tree, then decided to make a list with brief descriptions. There's no less productive use of time, but I found it satisfying. I'll see the ornaments again next year, but how will I feel? And depending on how I feel, who will I be?

Winning isn't everything!

We love the Atlantis Casino and Resort. We're here with Lisa (my favorite gambling partner) and it's nice to be away.

I'm tired and in pain, which is putting a big of a damper on things. Still, I'd rather be here than not be here.

I started off by winning winning winning, and now I'm losing losing losing. Hopefully that trend will reverse itself soon!

Update

I haven't blogged in several days, so I've probably lost all two of my regular readers. We've had house guests, and it's been great fun, but I haven't been online for days.

The results from my bone scan are in, and they aren't great. I have cancer in one of my vertebrae (T10) and in several ribs. It sucks. Also -- in the last two days I've developed quite a bit of pain ... taking dilaudid for that and thinking about radiation.

Oh, well.

New Year's was fun... VERY fun, and I danced & laughed & carried on. That wheel of fortune suuuuure keeps spinning.

I'm off to Reno tomorrow, despite the pain. I can't think of any reason to stay home. This is my life, and it doesn't make sense to wait for better days when I don't know if better days are coming.

I have wonderful friends, and my husband is not only wonderful, but to me he represents the best-case-husband-scenario. I should be so happy. I've been so happy the last few days. But I'm not happy now.

I sure wish my first blog entry of 2006 could contain better news.