He’s worried and bored and dealing with a potential hunger strike. I’m stressed and worried and my boobs hurt.
Yesterday wasn’t a good day. It was a slower day. We had a good floater pharmacist, who not only knew how to work the system, but was also ok with helping out when we needed it. Or even if we didn’t need it, for that matter. Unfortunately, the slower the shift, the more difficult it…
“Make sure you eat,” he told me via the prison visitor phone. “Don’t forget to eat.” “I had yogurt for lunch,” I replied. “Real food, I mean.” “Yogurt is real food. And I had oatmeal for dinner.” “Real food,” he said again, rolling his eyes.