A Convenient Case of AIDS
Posted: August 20th, 2008, 2:02 pm
A Convenient Case of AIDS
Prisons are a strange microcosm of society. The quarters are close. Everything is compressed. Your business is everybody's business.
A rumor can spread among 2000 inmates in a matter of minutes.
One day I noticed a newspaper clipping tacked to the bulletin board. It was from the Huntsville newspaper. It said that there were two inmates on the Wynne Unit with AIDS and that because of medical confidentiality issues the names of the inmates could not be disclosed. But it was thought that they worked in the construction department.
We had a large construction department. I worked in the construction office running a materials management system. It was computer work, not construction work.
I didn't pay much attention to the article. I wasn't sharing needles with anyone nor was my sex life varied enough to include other humans. I had been tested for AIDS and I knew I didn't have it. So I didn't think much about it.
Until a few days later when I was in my cell reading during count time. Two young rookie gray-suits were doing count. They stopped in front of my cell. One of them says, "you work in construction, don't you?"
I said, 'Yes."
Rookie says, "So, you've been losing a lot of weight lately, have you?"
I'm a skinny guy. I've always been skinny. I weigh the same as I did when I was seventeen years old. I hadn't lost weight, but these idiots didn't know that because they were drive-ups. I had been there for three years, they had been there for three weeks.
From that exchange I deduced that they thought that I was one of the anonymous AIDS victims in the construction department. Knowing how rumors spread in the institution, I prepared myself for some feedback. My bodily fluids were going to be perceived as lethal weapons.
Luckily I never heard a peep about this imaginary infection from any of the other inmates. Most of them had known me for three years. But the rookie guards had their own network.
At the end of the workday a few days later, we were lined up to get back into the main building. There was a checkpoint there where the inmates were frisked before entering. It was the kind of duty that the rookie guards would draw, pat down hundreds of inmates.
As I was standing in line, I noticed that the rookie who had stopped in front of my cell was doing the searches. He also noticed me in line. On occasion they would not pat everyone down, especially if the line was long. They would let a few walk through and randomly select a few.
When the rookie saw me about to come to the front of the line, he ushered about ten of us through without a search and stepped back as I passed.
It gave me a perverse sense of power. The guy was afraid of me. I might drool or bleed or blow my nose on him. He wanted to avoid me. I loved it.
Prisons are a strange microcosm of society. The quarters are close. Everything is compressed. Your business is everybody's business.
A rumor can spread among 2000 inmates in a matter of minutes.
One day I noticed a newspaper clipping tacked to the bulletin board. It was from the Huntsville newspaper. It said that there were two inmates on the Wynne Unit with AIDS and that because of medical confidentiality issues the names of the inmates could not be disclosed. But it was thought that they worked in the construction department.
We had a large construction department. I worked in the construction office running a materials management system. It was computer work, not construction work.
I didn't pay much attention to the article. I wasn't sharing needles with anyone nor was my sex life varied enough to include other humans. I had been tested for AIDS and I knew I didn't have it. So I didn't think much about it.
Until a few days later when I was in my cell reading during count time. Two young rookie gray-suits were doing count. They stopped in front of my cell. One of them says, "you work in construction, don't you?"
I said, 'Yes."
Rookie says, "So, you've been losing a lot of weight lately, have you?"
I'm a skinny guy. I've always been skinny. I weigh the same as I did when I was seventeen years old. I hadn't lost weight, but these idiots didn't know that because they were drive-ups. I had been there for three years, they had been there for three weeks.
From that exchange I deduced that they thought that I was one of the anonymous AIDS victims in the construction department. Knowing how rumors spread in the institution, I prepared myself for some feedback. My bodily fluids were going to be perceived as lethal weapons.
Luckily I never heard a peep about this imaginary infection from any of the other inmates. Most of them had known me for three years. But the rookie guards had their own network.
At the end of the workday a few days later, we were lined up to get back into the main building. There was a checkpoint there where the inmates were frisked before entering. It was the kind of duty that the rookie guards would draw, pat down hundreds of inmates.
As I was standing in line, I noticed that the rookie who had stopped in front of my cell was doing the searches. He also noticed me in line. On occasion they would not pat everyone down, especially if the line was long. They would let a few walk through and randomly select a few.
When the rookie saw me about to come to the front of the line, he ushered about ten of us through without a search and stepped back as I passed.
It gave me a perverse sense of power. The guy was afraid of me. I might drool or bleed or blow my nose on him. He wanted to avoid me. I loved it.
