From Dragonfly: Can't Fight the Feeling

I fret all the time that I am so powerless to get myself out of here. How is it possible that one piece of paperwork can hold up someone from gaining the access to their right for consideration for halfway house and/or home confinement? How is it possible that the responsibility for doing that paperwork for the number of inmates here all falls on one person? I know July isn't so far away, but one day longer than anyone could be on the other side of the fences is a day too much. I continue to think about how unfair it is for those of us who are minimum security to be in a secured environment, simply because we have a chronic health issue. For example, those on a blood thinner cannot be anywhere but here. In the outside world, being on Cumadin (sp?) wouldn't stop their lives at all. Once in the BOP, though, they are sent to a medical facility, and for women that means a high security facility, merely for the fact of being on that medication. For me, the fact that I am on methotrexate and enbryl puts me here. For my friend, her being on prednisone puts her here. We have autoimmune conditions, and therefore, are labeled chronic health, and cannot be anything but a care level 3 or 4. If we were men, we'd be a federal minimum security medical center. Being women, there is no such thing. So, for months, I am here, living in an environment set up for lifetime criminals and the violent, for the mere fact of my medical designation. I've seen a doctor 2x and a rheumatologist 1x. Any facility could have done similar. My friend, Lola, is here for rheumatoid arthritis; she was transferred here from a camp much closer to her home and husband, because she needed medical evaluation. She arrive last October and was just told that her rheumatology consult will be this October. She will wait a full year for that evaluation, having to live in this secured environment so far from home. Freckles broke her neck a couple years ago - almost 3. She was, also, put here for evaluation. She is in RDAP, which is good, but she could have done that at a camp. She received some physical therapy, which they offer at the camps, and nothing more for her care. It is healed well and other than stretching, there's not a lot anyone can do for a past broken neck. Here she is, far from her husband, for the mere fact of a medical condition. If she were at a camp, she'd be only a couple hours away from him and he could see her regularly. When Lola was at her camp, her husband and kids frequently visited. Now, she will receive a visit every six months, if possible, from her husband, who will have to spend hundreds of $$ to fly here and stay for the weekend. This is just like Sporty, who will be traveling here one more time, in a week and a half, to come and see me. If I were placed closer to home, I'd have my family and friends able to visit frequently and I would be in a non-secure environment. I am minimum security. I'm just saying there is someone wrong with this system - the system for women with medical issues - we are forced far from home in an environment where we are forced to see/hear things that scare us.

Just two days ago, a newbie arrived. I was showing her around the unit and introduced her to Mama and others. I asked the newbie how many months she had. She has 300... 25 years. Everyone at the table was crying. The newbie is in her 40's and has a pace maker. That is why she was placed here. None of us could imagine 25 years, 300 months, of being here. She is here for a drug related crime. I told her that the new laws should help her cut that time. There are sentence reduction acts currently in congress for those who receive outlandish minimum sentences for drug related crimes. I pray the newbie is able to take advantage of those laws if/when they officially are passed, otherwise, she will walk out of here in her 60's, having spent 20+ years (with good time) locked up among murderers, sex offenders, bank robbers, fighters, screamers, and the rare minimum security person who spends most of their time reading in their room, for fear of what's outside.