He was young, big, burly, and Hispanic (you expected something different?) Legs shackled, wrists manacled ( so tight he couldn't pick his nose if he had too). He had busted his arm up breaking someone elses jaw. Resulting in a plate and screws in his right forearm. And an opportunity to get stuck with needles for the pain, limited movement, and loss of strength. Bottom line is that for both of us, this is worth the possibility of turning one less junkie out on the street.
First needle was Gall Bladder 34, opposite leg. He whimpered a tad. Second was the Zhu Scalp Point above the left eyebrow, and back a few inches. Call it distraction. Or whatever. But the point is that in addition to less forearme pain, where the hardware was installed, he had more mobiity, instantlly, and increased finger strength. Call me "pisher", as my second ex-wife would say. But back to Juan. And his 2 burly guards, heavily laden with restraining, maiming and killing tools of their profession.
Because, although it is important that Juan finds a better alternative than opiates for his pain, his angst, his boredom at not being swooped up to make a meanful contribution to society (at least not just yet), it's the guards that count here. It reminds me of the story of this guy pushing a wheelbarrow full of straw across the border. And the border guards (how appropriate) riffle through the straw every trip, to detect what he is smuggling. Finally, after the umpteenth time, he finally tells them what he is smuggling, after cutting them in on the deal. Wheelbarrows. Smuggling wheelbarrows right under their sunburnd noses. The point being that it's the guards that are really the story here. Whether it's boredom, a free get-out-of-jail card, or curiosity, it is on their backs that this revolution in prison care will be carried,
And Juan keeps on coming back. Weekly. Three visits now. But who's counting.
y.
No comments:
Post a Comment