I am a Wordpress rookie. As promised, come hell or high water, I finally got my “baby blog” going. For the time being, it is not interactive. No, it’s just a place for me to share my written words, and for others to take what they like, and leave the rest.
At the start of this endeavor I am almost 66 years old. Allegedly “retired”, I never lack for inspiration in a world pulsing with options…and distractions.
I’ve never understood the concept of boredom. While for some it is regarded as an unavoidable reality, I seem to teeter toward an intolerance of it.
And, as a person who seeks compassion, I know that condescension besmirches my soul.
We are all different, wired as we are by our respective predispositions, the environment we’re birthed into, as well as all future pit stops and destinations.
This word ramble on the matter of boredom reminds me of journaling back in the seventies, e.g., when I took an Introduction to Philosophy course…
Were I enrolled in said class today, all of the above pros would likely be entered into the journal. Now, as then, I would not necessarily reach any conclusions; but I’d do a spectacular job of contemplating…the contemplation!
Governor Kate Brown 900 Court Street NE, Suite 254 Salem, OR 97301-4047
Dear Governor Brown,
I write this letter today on behalf of my brother Dean Sturgill (SID 4500242), who is scheduled for release from OSP on June 17th this year. Please see the attached copy of my letter (to you) dated April 15, 2021. In it I spoke of my brother’s health being in “steady decline behind bars”, “medical care deficiencies”, and my lack of confidence in the DOC’s ability to “execute an acceptable release plan”.
Here is a relevant excerpt:
“Some are familiar with his preexisting conditions, which are extensive and include traumatic brain injury. But it is clear that Oregon’s archaic inmate medical care/records system is not up to the task of efficiently addressing Dean’s medical needs. Further, I have absolutely no confidence in the DOC’s ability to execute an acceptable release plan that addresses his ongoing health needs, when his time’s up in about one year.”
Now, just over a year later, my dismal prediction is sadly unfolding. My brother’s brain injury and mounting medical issues do not appear to be factoring into his release plan. At least as of early this month.
This was clarified in conversation with OSP staff person Anna Brown, after relaying my concerns to her on May 5th. At that time I shared my own doctor’s advice, to find out whether there is anyone akin to a social worker involved in Dean’s release plan. As it turns out, not even his “release counselor” (Mr. Harding) is privy to his multiple health issues. Yet, Dean should have been flagged as “case managed” months ago.
I had a flashing red light moment while talking with Dean in late April, about his first phone conversation with his PO in Roseburg. As it became obvious that Dean might not actually HAVE a place to reside on the day of his arrival (by Greyhound), the new PO asked if he “was in good standing at the Mission”.
Seriously!?
As relayed to Ms Brown, I visualized Dean “standing in the middle of a bus station, carrying his box of personal belongings, with a CPAP case over his shoulder”. I asked questions about how (visually obvious) disabled inmates get released appropriately. I elaborated on Dean’s traumatic brain injury, which predated all medical issues arising while incarcerated at OSP (some COVID-related), and assured her that, “This is a train wreck!”
As I told Ms Brown, I’m not suggesting that any DOC staff members or medical care providers are INTENTIONALLY creating greater obstacles to Dean’s safe and appropriate release plan (or, for that matter, care inconsistencies over the course of his incarceration). But I informed her that I’d be writing this letter to voice my outrage.
Also worth noting is that new medical issues are occurring. At a late April second visit with a heart specialist Dean found the doctor quite displeased, as he learned that Dean’s new heart medication was still not being provided, as he’d prescribed. Then early last week Dean was still not finding his new prescription filled at the med cart. Meanwhile, medical procedures related to the above (and potentially blot clotting) are being scheduled for the near future. In other words, about one month prior to release.
It’s remarkable that I should even have to be writing this letter. Yet, my displeasure is far less important than the anxiety and confusion my brother is experiencing. Today on the phone Dean reflected on the five or so times he’s suggested a staff person or care provider review his pre-sentencing psych evaluation, which is on file. Thus far, it appears nobody has. And yet, if they had, they’d have a much better understanding of his invisible disability.
Concerned and sad,
Star Holmberg State of Oregon Office Specialist 2, Ret. (Univ. Of Oregon)
Cc: Juan Chauvez, Attorney at Law, OJRC Collette Peters, Director, DOC Dean Sturgill, SID 4500242
Originally this letter was going directly to Juan Chavez, Attorney at Law with the Oregon Justice Resource Center, with a cc to you. But, as the weighty subject matter accumulates and I remotely observe my brother Dean’s health in steady decline behind bars, I am choosing to inform you directly. Note that I am not writing this with an attitude of blame towards you in my heart. Given the abrupt onset of a global pandemic, and in light of Department of Corrections (DOC) institutional dysfunction you may not be privy to, I believe you’ve made good faith efforts on behalf of inmates. However, as our state’s leader, I believe you should know Dean’s story.
Since his hospitalization for COVID19 on December 18, 2020, Dean’s aftercare at OSP has lacked continuity. Granted, there are care providers who wish to do all they can to help my brother feel healthier. Some are familiar with his preexisting conditions, which are extensive and include traumatic brain injury. But it is clear that Oregon’s archaic inmate medical care/records system is not up to the task of efficiently addressing Dean’s medical needs. Further, I have absolutely no confidence in the DOC’s ability to execute an acceptable release plan that addresses his ongoing health needs, when his time’s up in about one year. Especially if, following the usual protocol, they delay working on his plan for another half year.
In order to grasp the DOC’s medical care system deficiencies, keep in mind that inmate medical records are still only paper files. While a health care provider may look at a computer when caring for an inmate, there is apparently nothing more on that screen than notes relevant to an appointment or procedure. According to at least two staff members, medical files are housed in a building not necessarily near all providers. My brother has had to repeatedly explain his health history to care providers (including those in Behavioral Health Services) not privy to his file.
It is noteworthy that in 2015 it was reported that the Oregon State Legislature would be funding an upgrade to the DOC medical records system, go electronic and join the twenty first century. However, in budget reports two years following these glowing news reports, that line item seems to have been shuffled aside. Now, having monitored more than a full year of the pandemic wreaking havoc on the DOC, I believe that this subpar file system has contributed greatly to much human suffering.
I will not elaborate (in this letter) on all the gut-wrenching particulars of the year 2020 experienced within the DOC, as Dean sought to stay alive in spite of anti maskers, lockdown quarantine, chaos and smoke. But it is important to note that he was severely ill in December of 2019, while housed at Santiam Correctional institute. He and I consider it quite possible that he contracted a form of COVID at that time, when his lungs were badly damaged, a condition that continues to factor into his poor health.
Today I am focused on Dean’s official COVID diagnosis and the four months since he tested positive. Two days after being hospitalized, Dean was able to call me from his room. I learned that his heart rate was elevated and he was receiving treatment for a preexisting urinary infection. I could hear equipment in the background and kept the call brief, assuming that I’d be able to speak with a health care professional. I called the switchboard and came to know that was not the case. I was transferred to hospital security; and, the gentleman could not tell me anything about my brother’s status, that I would need to call the institution that Dean came from. The guard had no specific number or person to call. It was the weekend, and I could not reach anyone in Medical at OSP. Having spoken with the OSP Nurse Manager Christina Pries previously, I left her a message.
Keep in mind, it was thanks to my brother not being on a ventilator and someone handing him a phone, that I learned of his hospitalization. Had he been ventilated, I have no idea what protocol would have unfolded. More to the point, it is unclear how long it would take the hospital to ascertain that my brother’s advance directive (which is in a paper file) has my name on it. (As opposed to seeing my name and contact info appear in an inmate medical profile on a computer screen.)
About a day later Christina called me back and provided details from a lab report that she’d received, and which we discussed. She told me that she wanted to be sure, prior to his release from the hospital, that Dean be set up for “a drip”, so that he could be treated in the infirmary. It was also clear that I would not be able to speak with any doctor (treating Dean), in or out of the hospital.
Upon release from the Salem Hospital Dean was NOT put in the infirmary, but rather into a cell. (Obviously, not set up for a drip, and I have no clue how Christina’s request was conveyed.) To say this was an abrupt and remarkably uncomfortable situation after five days hospitalized with COVID is an understatement. Dean already had preexisting lung and blood platelet issues, was immune compromised and dealing with a recurring urinary infection. Blood work performed the week of his COVID hospitalization revealed that he suffers from Rhabdomyolysis. Also, COVID left him with loss of weight and muscle mass, brain fog and a severe reduction in stamina.
In spite of all of the above, less than a month following his hospital release, on January 7th Dean was abruptly woke up by an Officer In Charge (OIC) at 3 a.m. for culinary work duty. Apparently, in spite of his hospitalization and poor health, he was still on the “call list”. He explained to the OIC that he was recovering from COVID, that he could not possibly work. For this he received a Misconduct Report. And for an additional three days he was woke up early in the morning. Prior to this series of events Dean had a stellar conduct record.
It was not until two months after Dean’s hospital release (around February 19th) that a “file review” took place, and a medical provider noted two remarkable (documented) facts. 1) that he was suppose to have gone to the infirmary directly following hospital release…and 2) he was to have started breathing treatments at that same time. So, two months late, at least # 2 was initiated. And the need for these treatments has continued. In fact, I believe his breathing issues are worsening. On multiple occasions he has had trouble while sleeping, as he also suffers from apnea. Last week he was experiencing extreme distress in the night, became dizzy, was put in a wheel chair and taken to the infirmary for a couple hours. This week he had an episode in the daytime, apparently while in the area where doctor visits occur.
On that same day Dean called me, to describe what occurred in detail. While one medical staff person assured him he was “going to be okay”, this was not at all what was going through Dean’s mind. He was extremely distressed. Another comment from a medical staff person stood out, though I have no clue whether Dean heard it in between gasps or in the course of regular conversation. The essence of it was that they’re “not really set up” to deal with “this sort of thing”. Rhetorically, I ponder…not set up in a waiting area?…not set up in an OSP doctors office?…not set up in the infirmary? Regardless, I got the impression that the “sort of thing” was in reference to a particular remedy, administered as a shot. No shot was given.
Also, in the course of his medical visit, Dean asked why staff do not routinely check his platelet count. I am not sure if he has ever received a clear answer to this question (that he asks repeatedly). Nonetheless, this pertains to a health issue that long predates the Pandemic, and is relevant to how his medications should be monitored. But, alas, I suspect the reason for this medically advised recurring procedure is buried rather deep in his thick paper file.
Finally, below are two quotes, taken directly from AIC (Adult in Custody) Communication Forms sent to Medical/Sick Call by Dean:
1/2/21–“Are we doing what the hospital recommended…Dr.? I think not…”
1/8/21, regarding the 1/7/21 work wake up—“I can barely wrap my head around walking around, let alone my mental health. I can’t believe I am even dealing with this, considering my health issues.”
I trust that, after reading all of the above, you have a better understanding of the medical challenges Oregon inmates face, particularly in the era of COVID. Hopefully, it is also clear why I am so deeply disappointed by the lack of continuity in my brother’s medical care. And why I believe his case (among many) justifies a major overhaul of the Oregon Department of Corrections medical records system, and in turn improvements to inter-and-intra-departmental sharing.
Thank you for your thoughtful consideration of my brother’s plight, as well as that of other inmates who’ve suffered behind bars during the Pandemic.
Sincerely,
Star Holmberg
State of Oregon Office Specialist 2, Ret. (Univ. Of Oregon)
Well, I got the COVID call today from my brother Dean, who tested positive on Friday December 18th and was subsequently transferred from OSP to the Salem Hospital. So, the good news is that he was able to call on the phone (no ventilator), is now receiving what I call continuity of care, and is in a room to himself. The bad news, besides the fact that COVID is scary (for those who believe that science and facts exist), is that his heart is very erratic. And even though I had been assured earlier this year that someone in the Dept of Corrections would inform me of an emergency, I was not notified.
Once I got off the phone with him, I fully anticipated being able to connect with a doctor or nurse. Dean was pretty foggy (on meds) and could not recall his new doctor’s name, someone in the background was telling him he could not share his room number, and I heard medical equipment of some sort making beeping noises…and was worried about the conversation elevating his heart rate. Meanwhile, back to the hospital switchboard…
The nice lady said I needed to be routed to Security, which made sense since my brother is an inmate. Security could not tell me squat and said I’d need to contact the facility from which my brother came. I mentioned OSP; but, he had no idea who to ask for at said prison. What is curious is that he asked me my brother’s name, but then later said he could not even confirm if my brother was there. I wondered to myself if his response would have been different if the inmate had passed.
I phoned the switchboard lady again, to let her know that nothing comforting comes from a transfer to Security, but that I knew it wasn’t her fault. And I proceeded to babble on for awhile, essentially processing my sad rage. Her patient listening ear told me I was not the first distressed family member she’d encountered. I told her I’d eventually start navigating the OSP phone system.
But first, I decided to call both of my familiar go-to medical folks at OSP, leaving messages in which I sought to be calm and not blame any ONE for the dreadfully disappointing absence of a call from prison staff to me.
A bit of irony in all of this is how much I was focused on inmate medical files last Friday, as I learned about how behind the times the Oregon Department of Corrections is when it comes to electronic record keeping. All that time chatting with an OSP staff person who had promoted better records technology years ago. Yet on that same day my brother is transported to the hospital, and I am clueless.
In retrospect, I can imagine getting word IF a certain doctor or nurse just happened to have the bulging paper file in front of them on Friday, and IF they happened to see whatever note was supposedly left with my name on it…or the forms confirming that I have permission to discuss any of Dean’s medical issues…or the advance directive with my name on it.
Dean has worked extremely hard to keep away from COVID, especially since his 2-wk/23-hrs-a-day quarantine lockdown in early April. But, alas, it has arrived…
This puts my Dr Zeuss book collection (mail ordered by my mom when I was quite young) into a new light! I wonder now if my mother knew that Dr Zeuss was an anti-Hitler voice…Thanks! This is a great piece you have assembled!
Sometimes my favorite lessons each year are the ones I don’t even have to teach. The material just does it’s own thing and I just guide the students. When we are learning about the World War II in Europe, one of the first things they learn about is neutrality and the build up to the war in 1940 and 41. The students learned about the Neutrality Acts and how most Americans wanted nothing to do with foreign affairs as early as 1935 and as late as the summer of 1941. The students also learn that there were very few who spoke up against Hitler and the Japanese onslaught. They also learn about the political cartoons of one Dr. Seuss.
Most students are stunned to find out that Dr. Seuss was a political cartoonist who came out very early against Adolf Hitler and the isolationist movement, which at that time was…
Here are more photos of the Mercantile, this time taken in the Middle section as well as the North Room. Open Monday thru Saturday 10-6, Sunday 12-5! Come visit and be amazed—145 Pioneer Parkway East in Springfield, Oregon! Ignore that dark opening into the back storage space. Were a fan not set up, you’d see a beaded curtain. Note that this more shabby chic zone was once called “the library”. My space, which is by no means “chic”, is just west of this area.
This batch of photos was taken in the front room of the Mercantile at 145 Pioneer Parkway East in Springfield Oregon. Various vendor spaces and consigned articles are represented, as well as furniture now prominently featured. Much reconfiguring, new floor finish, checkout zone repositioned. My space does not show up in this batch, as it is in the middle portion of the store.
EklektikosByStar 
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