Overcrowding and the lack of access to adequate medical care have turned Washington state prison facilities into hotbeds for the spread of infectious diseases and other life threatening illnesses.
Even if you’ve never been incarcerated before, I’m pretty sure you have an idea of how crowded prison facilities can get. While some lower custody prisons have dorm-style living units where there can be anywhere between 30-40 bunks in an open area that resembles a middle school gymnasium, most facilities house people in the typical two-person cells, the size of a large closet with one bunk stacked above the other.
At my facility, Washington Corrections Center, each living unit consists of four separate pods with 30 two-person cells in each pod–15 cells on each side of a long hallway called a tier. Doing the quick math, that’s 60 people in each pod, totaling 240 people in each unit, not including the guards. Each pod has a small day room where people can hang out and congregate outside their cells. And while some units have “wet cells” where there is a toilet and sink in each cell, my unit has “dry cells” without sinks or toilets in the cells, but rather has a tiny communal bathroom that consists of eight sinks, three toilets, three urinals, and five shower heads to share between 60 people. And yes, if you’re wondering, it does get as nasty as you’re probably imagining!
Not only does living in tight quarters like my unit breed frustration and lots of negative interactions between those that live here, but these packed living units are also a breeding ground for bacteria, viruses, and other illnesses. Pretty much, if one person gets sick on the tier, you can bet that the whole unit will eventually catch the same illness—and eventually, the whole facility will. This was the lesson learned the hard way during the COVID-19 pandemic.
And though the days of COVID-19 shutdowns and other precautions have come and gone, illnesses still spread like wildfire within these prison facilities. Which is why good personal hygiene habits are crucial around here, but you’re only going to be able to avoid the bug for so long. And with the lack of access to adequate healthcare, even minor ailments can become dangerous.
Currently, a mysterious sickness is running through my facility unlike anything many of us have ever experienced before. And as of this writing, it has been spreading for over a month and showing no signs of slowing down.
What started as someone coughing down the tier eventually turned into a large percentage of the facility being down for the count with an illness that just keeps on spreading.
For me, the sickness began on February 28 with body aches, migraines, fatigue, and loss of appetite. After I was bedridden for nearly a week with those symptoms, I eventually was able to move around, but then developed a cough that felt like I was coughing up my lungs. Because of this weird cough I wasn’t able to sleep or eat for weeks after. I pretty much survived on water, cough drops, vapor rub, and prayers.
After speaking with my wife about my condition, I decided to request an appointment with medical. For those of us who aren’t familiar with prison procedures, in order to get to medical, you first have to fill out a medical request form commonly referred to as a “kite” and drop it in the medical box. From there, actually getting any medical attention can take anywhere from one day to a couple of months. A person can also declare a “medical emergency” that’ll get them up to the medical department the same day, but doing that turns into such a spectacle that many are reluctant to go that route with all the hoops they have to jump through.
I was fortunate to be called to medical within a week. Once there, and after a quick examination, the doctor was so concerned with how my lungs sounded that she requested an immediate x-ray. The imaging eventually revealed that I had a severe case of pneumonia. I was given a nebulizer treatment, two different types of antibiotics, and prescribed an inhaler.
While I was extremely lucky to receive that level of care, the speed in which I was placed on the medical callout and the level of urgency the medical staff treated me with is not the norm by any stretch of the imagination. So I don’t want us to use my recent experience as what generally happens, but I do want us to use it as what is possible when those in charge actually do their job.
In total contrast to the treatment I received, a good friend of mine, Moses Beliz, who you all have heard from in the most recent “Mail Call,” and was also experiencing the same symptoms as me, did not get anywhere near the level of care I received. After signing up for medical after weeks of battling his illness, he was finally placed on the medical callout. Once there, the medical staff treating him showed little to no care and didn’t even use a stethoscope to listen to his lungs, let alone give him any medication that could potentially help. He was eventually sent back to his unit having received nothing but blank stares. As of this writing, Moses is still dealing with his sickness and battling a cough that just won’t go away.
My friend’s experience is what many prisoners usually go through on the inside. This unfortunate reality is why many people are so hesitant to request medical treatment in the first place and would rather find alternative methods of care such as rubbing vapor rub on their feet to treat a cough. And sadly, that’s why many people die in here alone.
Though I’m writing this while still battling pneumonia and after losing nearly 15-pounds, I’m finally starting to feel like myself again. Without those antibiotics, God knows what could’ve happened to me. And while I’m one of the fortunate ones that got some sort of decent medical care this time, access to adequate medical treatment shouldn’t be like buying a lottery ticket, and our bodies shouldn’t be treated like fixer-upper townhomes. Our health shouldn’t be a DIY project that depends on the right guard on duty, a nurse’s mood, or a doctor who may or may not even want to be here. All of us deserve respect and should be provided with proper medical treatment no matter our circumstances. And as a community, we should be demanding better for all of us… inside and out.
Free Palestine!
Until next time, keep dreaming!
Felix Sitthivong is an incarcerated storyteller, community organizer, and founding member of the Peoples’ Empowerment Assembly for Collective Equity (PEACE). Sitthivong is also the former president and senior advisor for the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Awareness Group (APICAG). He is currently serving a 66-year sentence at the Washington Corrections Center in Shelton, WA. Reach him with questions for “On the Fence Line” via Securus (WA #354579) or write to him at Felix Sitthivong #354579, PO BOX 900, Shelton, WA 98584
Felix Sitthivong is an incarcerated storyteller, community organizer, and founding member of the Peoples’ Empowerment Assembly for Collective Equity (PEACE). Sitthivong is also the former president and senior advisor for the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Awareness Group (APICAG). He is currently serving a 66-year sentence at the Washington Corrections Center in Shelton, WA. Reach him with questions for “On the Fence Line” via Securus (WA #354579) or write to him at Felix Sitthivong #354579, PO BOX 900, Shelton, WA 98584.
