you know how it is when you're talking with a couple of people about current events, how expensive groceries are, the weather, neck pain...just about everything except for the fact that there's a HUGE FUCKING ELEPHANT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM.
last night was sort of like that.
have you ever been around someone who's blitzed out of their mind on heroin? it's never pretty (unless, of course, you yourself are blitzed on H, then EVERYTHING'S pretty, even the vomit in your lap & the rat chewing on your toes.)
anyway, last night I worked my usual unit at the prison with the officer I've been working with for about a month or so & a woman that I went thru the Academy with & have known for about 4 years, who has been a good friend for almost as long.
anyway, last night & for the past several nights she's been showing up in a state that I can only compare to a full-on nod--mumbling, rambling, shuffling her feet, trembling--standing & swaying, growing the full-length Sid & Nancy ash on her cigarette.
the actual culprit is actually a combination of either misprescribed or misused meds & anorexia.
(in most civilized areas if something seriously life-threatening happens, you're rushed on an ambulance to an emergency room--in my rather rural area you have to be life-flighted--flown by helicopter--to the nearest "real" hospital. this is a ride that a person usually takes only once in their lives, & she's taken two of those rides in as many months.)
in a prison--whether you're living there or working there--a huge chunk of politeness is left outside the gates. genteel manners jes' don't cut it in the big house, but there's an essential core of--either politeness or cowardice--that just kind of ignores the elephant & hopes that it'll leave of it's own accord.
so, we played a game of cards (& she nodded in between each hand, the cards splayed between one hand & her cigarette smoking away in the other), we talked about everything but the elephant. I kept trying to give her my lunch, saying that I'd eaten myself silly before coming to work (even tho I hadn't & was starving)--but how do you make someone EAT? (I had similar problems with my grandmother, towards the end, making more & more elaborate meals, cursing ignorant sonsabitches who seemed to think that medicinal marijuana would turn terminal little old ladies into drug fiends)
anyway. a fucked-up situation.
maybe more later.
last night was sort of like that.
have you ever been around someone who's blitzed out of their mind on heroin? it's never pretty (unless, of course, you yourself are blitzed on H, then EVERYTHING'S pretty, even the vomit in your lap & the rat chewing on your toes.)
anyway, last night I worked my usual unit at the prison with the officer I've been working with for about a month or so & a woman that I went thru the Academy with & have known for about 4 years, who has been a good friend for almost as long.
anyway, last night & for the past several nights she's been showing up in a state that I can only compare to a full-on nod--mumbling, rambling, shuffling her feet, trembling--standing & swaying, growing the full-length Sid & Nancy ash on her cigarette.
the actual culprit is actually a combination of either misprescribed or misused meds & anorexia.
(in most civilized areas if something seriously life-threatening happens, you're rushed on an ambulance to an emergency room--in my rather rural area you have to be life-flighted--flown by helicopter--to the nearest "real" hospital. this is a ride that a person usually takes only once in their lives, & she's taken two of those rides in as many months.)
in a prison--whether you're living there or working there--a huge chunk of politeness is left outside the gates. genteel manners jes' don't cut it in the big house, but there's an essential core of--either politeness or cowardice--that just kind of ignores the elephant & hopes that it'll leave of it's own accord.
so, we played a game of cards (& she nodded in between each hand, the cards splayed between one hand & her cigarette smoking away in the other), we talked about everything but the elephant. I kept trying to give her my lunch, saying that I'd eaten myself silly before coming to work (even tho I hadn't & was starving)--but how do you make someone EAT? (I had similar problems with my grandmother, towards the end, making more & more elaborate meals, cursing ignorant sonsabitches who seemed to think that medicinal marijuana would turn terminal little old ladies into drug fiends)
anyway. a fucked-up situation.
maybe more later.
theoriginalsin:
Umm, can I ride the elephant?