How not to communicate to Prison MGT and ACC

The prelude to this (below) is my damaged/compressed Spinal Nerve Roots – pain +++ down left arm, +++ left shoulder, left face, diminished sensation and power for all previously mentioned (which occurred in June 23rd and July 10th 2009 – prisoner assaults) of the C-Spine section. I never thought there was so much damage until after the C-Spine MRI. This was a consequence of 2 assaults by 2 different prisoners at separate times as well as required spontaneous restraint of the 2 prisoners, well 3 if we are being pedantic. No sleep for 48+ hours, no pain relief and a disorganized mind at 0400 hours.

You just shouldn't’t be allowed access to a computer at these times.

Well at the very least the Send button should be locked away. So I don’t feel entirely at fault here – I think not therefore I Am Not (responsible).

In any case I sent this,



can’t un-ring this bell.




Mrs. S and Mrs. B – Let Mrs. R know I am not completely committable, I just write for the fun of it.


And again, Morning Ladies -


I should have typed this earlier as I have been awake all last night and tonight, though the pain has relaxed for some unknown reason so I can type for a bit. Well the acute pain has receded; the chronic pain, diminished sensation, weakness etc continues, and Mr. Acute Pain is never far behind - bundled up and loving his newly refurbished rooms in my C-Spine.

Basically as I’ve awake for 48+ hours I am now making the most of this ‘no-pain window’; for now in any case - and you all know I will ramble (very soon I fear), though Mrs. S has a Vulcan language Decoder and she understands me; as does Mrs. B. Mrs. R has been very helpful through out all this as well by listening to my rants and helping me feel that even though we have no current medical/surgical intervention we do have forward motion and if we continue in this Endeavor some semblance of hope is there (hope which Captain James Cook ran out of in the then named Sandwich Islands, named after an Earl in England, his only achievement in an era where the Empire lost direction and America) - pity I was born an arrogant, sarcastic, iconoclastic, pessimistic, paranoid individual, at least that's what Heidi (Wife) tells me - she likes to think it will all work out - I prefer to expect the worst so anything gained or positive is a bonus, this makes more sense to me -



Safer too.



Such is life.



I would like to thank all of you for making this easy re the paper work etc. You all know I have been working at Mt Eden Prison in pain for 5+ months until it was too much to bear (or Beer, I know which one I stumble towards) and you’ll have been supportive each time I have communicated with you. I look forward to our meting (?) 2nd of March after initial consult from Dr C; who, from other Dr's around the place (whom have been in the business for some time), report he is very good with Spinal Injuries, guess we have to wait to see - rather anxious re what the outcome will be, what’s the bet they stab me with needles (with the largest bore needle they can find) which I hate and I now sitting here shuddering at the prospect of blood tests. People have pointed out that I coped with my Ta Moko, my retort is that tattoo needles are different; the pain is different, distinctive, wanted - for me the blood taking needles remove something (and I swear that my veins have grown nerves to increase the pain of these blood testing procedures) from me as opposed to the Ta Moko which gives to me an expression of part of who I am - communication comes in many varied forms.

Stop rambling. I wanted to say thank you.

We all know most trialed medications are not good for me so far - probably because I'm a pain full stop; Poison might help, they were a great late 80's early 90's band and the way they Shook & Thrashed their big hair one could reasonably conclude they should have some spinal abnormalities. I guess if the drugs they have access to actually work for Spinal Injuries good on them; though you can count me out regarding most of them - not everyone can be a Living Illicit Drug Legend like Keith Richards who I am sure has his cereal with JD's or should that be JD's sprinkled with cereal.

The Rolling Stones - no Moss on them ones.

Codeine Phosphate - doesn't touch the pain. Good if one wants to be constipated. It does greatly mitigate Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) attacks and associated pain - my God ‘that pain’ is and continues to be the most painful thing in my life.

Fighting, assault and restraint (in the immediacy of the event) I do not feel anything or much, certainly no pain, and retain a rather clear sensorium at the time, which has proven to be a useful defense mechanism. Afterwards is a different story - could it be that now I have notched up 15 years in Forensic Psychiatry that at 37 I am Old?

What a sad life, perhaps I will take up Edward Cullen's offer of Immortality.

NSAID's – I can't take this class of medications due to my Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) as it precipitates +++ pain via cramps, ulcers and believe me I have been on the toilet for days after trying different NSAID's (in the past) that Dr's reported had low incidence side effects of this type (probably too much info) - thanks to that Dr (years ago), not current Dr’s, names have been altered to protect the innocent - according to John Walsh - only in America; where Sandwiches are had in plenty and one is big enough to block several aortic arteries in one go, let alone crash and sink The Boston Tea Party.

DHC - this is a fun drug if you like to scratch your entire body for hours to the point where skin integrity is compromised. Apparently I internally convert the DHC into morphine and itching is one of the common side effects - I don't have enough hands to reconsider this approach.

Norflex - not much pain coverage. Not many, if any.

Paradex - same as Norflex, ‘How Bizarre” (RIP Pauly).

Amytryptaline - we trialed Amytryptaline at a low dose as it is clinically indicated for pain, especially nerve pain - seemed to work for a few days until it had established itself in a therapeutic window - which window? Today we'll be looking through the Square Window and learning about the letters – E and S. Unfortunately that window showed and held a combination Serotonin Storm leading to +++ agitation, no sleep and danger to any stray cats, dogs and Parliamentarians.

E Is for “is this pain Ever going to stop?” S. Is for Sleep (none for 48+ hours), as well as looking at the numbers 666 with reference to; if no cure or ability to control the pain and fix me (I believe they have the technology, "We can rebuild him", cheers Lee Majors for that reverberating cord insert) I will be labeled as 'Beyond Salvage' and disappear in Mexico's Badlands.



Again.



No questions or scrutiny would penetrate ‘that’ Government folder on me (yes people, they have more than one folder on everybody, the one I am referring to is the Black Ops one), let alone acknowledge its existence. Irrevocably in the end time and people move on; perhaps reluctantly for a while though at the End no-one will hold your hand when Yee walk through The Valley of the Shadow of Death – all you’ll hold is an envelope that you can’t open and a course that was determined prior to your Grandparents birth; there is no way to move from this inexorable path.

Yep - just when I thought we were on a good pain management regime, the Amytryptaline produced side effects in combination with the Venlafaxine - which can happen and it is not overly rare, sometimes people die from Serotonin 'Storms’ (my weird way of putting it - and it is Me/Myself/and I; I am not dead, yet).

Look towards the West on the Fifth Day, a Wizard is never early nor late, he arrives exactly when he means to.

On occasion this happens: the combination of a SSRI medication (even an atypical SSRI) and a Tricyclic medication. Side Effects - akathesia; internal restlessness generally with irritability and/or aggression. Stopping Amytryptaline obviously doesn't help with my pain ++ as well as left arm diminished sensation, weaker than right on a good day, labile temperature, nauseous, vomiting (though pain does cloud the clinical picture), irritable state of mind, inability to sleep, rest, you feel the need to move even if sitting and leave my restless leg alone, he's shy.

Tramadol - I will leave until talking to Consultant Dr C next Wednesday 24th? He’s the expert on Spinal issues and so hopefully it will be an illuminating session. Don't worry Mrs. R, I have not obtained a script for it and I believe (I have to; which admittedly weakens my previous pessimistic profile) that there are other cheaper pain relieving medications, breathing exercises, etc. They could always hook me up with a case of Jack Daniels Ol' No# 7 - that'll kill the pain for a while.




Well - I see the Mourning (yes, Mourning) Sun on the Horizon, time to look at it with a squint -





Trying Damn hard to look like Clint Eastwood.

(God Damn he’s sexy).




He looks out, into the receding street,

He sees only the frame he needs to.

Focused.

No one else here but the street.

And.

The street and the target who refused to back off, the target he was brought here for. Payment they offered he declined; he’d been in this situation too many times. From when he was young and lucky to now where he was alive and not sure why.

He hears nothing as every soul is locked in their respective abodes, the community’s collective breath held. Only the Saloon is open – perhaps a taste soon, the harsh whisky they serve here is not exactly commendable, but it ensures you know you’re alive and after all, isn’t that the purpose?


He feels his revolvers.


These parts of himself that others think of only as weapons, those others who see them as only tools, they are the ones that ask for help – for help when they lose faith in themselves, in their abilities, in their calling, in standing up and making themselves heard. Perhaps they would not win if they stood as he did, though at least they could have stood apart and not been counted as part of the diminutive flock.

He checked himself – not here to judge, not here to complicate things, just business, keep it simple, and keep it the way it’s always been.

Win or not he would remain free.

Free and righteous.

He felt his revolvers; moved his hands over them knowing each part, each distinctive feature, so close to him they had become him. Guns with the barrel sights shaved down to give a quicker draw; to take the hitch away, to give that millisecond advantage so he doesn't have to rush and ensures accuracy as opposed to the hasty man.

He knew his abilities; he knew his strengths as well as weakness’ and appreciated both as well as the craftsmanship of the balanced parts of himself. If ever there was a woman he would call wife she could never take this or those past moments away, he would always be in debt to these ivory encased parts of himself.

Selfish he thought – but at least true and honest from beginning to end.

All these thoughts rumbled through his mind in an instant though nothing deflected from the reality of the here and now.

It was as it always was.

As it always would be.

A thought – many thoughts – circulating; the same ones that seemed forever; forever and ever circulating, never leaving.

Axiomatic truth never does.



He knew he could never take a wife or family, his destiny was not measured in this manner. A lonely space in time was his lot; a skill to allow others to achieve the dream he once thought he could have yet knew he could never fairly achieve.




The opponent outdrew him, though in that frenzied moment he fired first into the dirt, too nervous Clint mused – a hardened smile that was not lost on those lucky enough to see.




Shooting scared is the worst play a gunslinger can make, it exponentially compounds when he figures this out. Not by some sudden insight, but by the 'thud' he feels in his chest, the difficulty in trying to draw breath.



Whilst prone in the dirt the shadow of a man covers him from the glare of High Noon.



The Man with no Name kneels; he leans into and holds his opponents’ hand, squeezing to bring back a level of consciousness. Enough for Last Rights and enough to acknowledge one of his kind, to give solace. Perhaps something the one lying there has never received, let alone understood; he does now. He ‘gets the facts’ and grimly accepts the outcome - the end point of his choices.


He looks up at a Man he has never met; amongst all those he has come up against, all the men he has dealt with, he had finally met his match. He never knew any of the past marks, just as he didn’t know the Stranger griping his hand and shading his eyes from the sun now. What he wouldn’t give to share a drink with him, swap stories, laugh and relax for a time, to be part of something instead of this creeping nothing.


Both men held each other in their own way, understanding that the payment of dirt and dust was inevitable. Both men smiled at each other – as the sands of time emptied into the trampled empty street they twisted and whirled like a sad Dervish’s last performance before the main event.


These two; the outsiders, the lonely and unwanted ones, unless of course the sheep can not cope, then they pay and laud and clap them on the back as if they had been a part of the event – leeches, parasites,



Business.




It was an honorable Death – Man against Man, no tricks, no parley, no debate and no cowering.






These two Men in a town of cowards gripped each other that much harder before Death took one life and waited patiently for the other.












Take Care Ladies








David George Barnett

Beer

Not one of the more original titles of the artistic world though probably one of the only four letter words that is acceptable to most of those out there trying to find their way in and out of the traffic called life.

And why should we not return to basics, to the true form of life, the escape into bliss, away from what those in suits and government departments call reality.

Hell - we look at ancient Mesopotamia and wonder about the beginning of the fertile crescent, the fertilisation of life, we look at the then lightening progress forward towards civilization and forget that beer was originated in great supply due to the surplus of barley and wheat which allowed for craftsmen to develop the art of alcohol.

The rest of what we call civilization has only brought us war, famine and despair - in fact I have pretty strong evidence that The Four Horsemen came to be from the cauldron of so called development. If we had the smarts to leave the standard of progress at the door of Beer and associated alcohol things we would not be in the dire way we are now, and if we were I would prefer to fight to the death for beer than oil or land, in fact with beer as the staple in the diet fighting would be easier than usual and conscription would not be needed considering some of the side effects of alcohol - to those that point out my irony I would say that wars fought and fueled by alcohol do not last as long as conventional ones and the Seven Day war would be considered an epoch in relation to the time a beer war took to start and finish.

I guess we would have to thank the English for deriving aspirin from the Willow tree though, I guess in every positive is a negative, the Japanese balance thingy and all.

Which brings us to Sake, who the hell thought you could get this out of rice, lovely warm drink that slinks it's way into the system quickly and without effort, deceiving the mind with its ability to take over the decision making process, well possibly, most us are happy to leave the decisions to someone else, or something else.

So I have been back at prison for about 2 months full time and all is going well, no indicators that the bottom of the behavioural sink is coming up to grab at me again, no claw marks, no teeth marks though my throat remains sore, my left shoulder and side of neck are still out as well as my left hand remaining bruised and swollen.

One of my patients in the Special Needs Unit decided to attack me when I was administering medication to him in the Round Room - quite a strong bugga he was though I felt for him after the event. Naturally officers came to help the situation and of course my usual belligerence remained to ensure I would not back down or let him go and we managed to take him down and take back the control he had lost.

I don't know why these things do not bother me too much, why I have no bitter feelings towards the person who has attacked me (it has happened ++ before, a side effect of the job), and why I am easily able to engage them again in more therapeutic action. In this case I was able to ask the officers to leave the room and leave him with me to talk, he was obviously distressed and felt out of control, we talked and then I left him alone to have time out and to settle then saw him again after an hour. Together we developed a plan for his progress forward and I was looking forward to pursuing this with him though unfortunately he was classified too high for our prison and he was transferred the next day - unfortunately as I believe I could have helped him through the intrapsychic distress he was going through.

My job.

Risk assessment, management, treatment, mitigation.

Forensic psychiatry.

One title for what I do though what it essentially comes down to is being human, listening to the truth and depth that is often hidden by doors not erected by those in the the midst of the pain, pain that was not of their doing or asking and now I see them in front of me as confused and wondering how they got to this point and what in the hell they can do to escape the pain.

Perhaps a better title is Translator.

Things don't need to be complicated, neither do answers, but we make them this way in order to fool ourselves into believing we are evolved and different from other strains of the animal world though in reality is this the truth or another form of dressage?

Civilization?



Creep into the head of a mentally unwell prisoner and ask yourself if this word truly exists.



Civil indeed.




I would invite you back to the Fertile Crescent 5000 BC where beer was brewed and men gathered together though as yet government departments were not there to taint the reality of the day.

I have an animal skin for warmth, my house is of baked brick, my family is fed, my life is governed by seasons and the ebb and flow of the river,

I sit at a communal fire watching the movement of the stars, noting the coming time to sow or to harvest,



Innately I know fellowship.




A better word than civilization which was to stain the carpet of life and bring us to now, to the time where the very planet has no say over the future, only men with money who trust no one and know only stock values and the price of a barrel of oil.






Someone pass me a keg.