A Good Night's Sleep

“That’s all that was wrong with me,” Jon said. “I needed a good night’s sleep.”
Two years on remand in Joe Arpaio’s cockroach infested jails, three and a half years in State prison, never knowing if his half time release would be confirmed, three weeks held at immigration not knowing when he’d be deported, three days in transit without sleep and two days without food are not going to be dispelled with a good nights sleep.

But that’s Jon. He is always positive. Visiting him in prison you felt that he was cheering you up, not the other way round.

The cold spell has meant that he’s not ventured into the garage extension, and is sleeping in the cosy warmth of the upstairs bedroom. He’s still jetlagged and once awake the lure of the computer, which is in the bedroom, becomes irresistible and he’s writing all night. But since taking the meds the doctor gave him he’s not been waking up as much, which means he’s staying awake all day. Wrenching him from the computer at any time is difficult.

Yesterday, we insisted that he come for a walk. He tried to resist, but we nagged him into joining us. It was a bright, crisp day. We walked an elderly neighbour’s dog for an hour around the countryside near our house. Jon admitted he enjoyed the exercise, but complained later that his face had been freezing and half an hour would have been enough.

A visit to the optician, confirmed that he is slightly short sighted, and needs glasses for distance vision, which is still blurred. It’s probably due to the ten-twelve hours per day he spent reading and writing in his cell.

Each day his mental and physical health are improving. His energy is returning but I’m still concerned that he’s trying to do too much too soon. But I’m fighting a losing battle.

Your interest and support is wonderful, but please be patient. It will take him a while to catch up on the hundreds of emails in his inbox.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

Anxiety

This morning Jon had palpitations caused by anxiety and lack of sleep. His distance vision is still blurred. He sounded distressed as he related his symptoms. I got an emergency doctor's appointment for him at 10.30am. I went with him.

It wasn’t my usual doctor who knows the whole story, so Jon had to briefly relate his recent history. The doctor seemed apprehensive about Jon. He told him to start re-taking the anti-anxiety medication he’d been given in Florence and prescribed more meds for Bipolar, made him an appointment for a psychiatric assessment, and a full medical check up. For the blurred vision he said to make an appointment with the optician.
“I think he may have thought I was a racist,” Jon said, “with my head shaved and just coming from a US prison. Perhaps he thought I was of the Aryan Brotherhood. He seemed scared of me.”
“With him being Asian?” I asked. “Yes, maybe he was. You spoke very politely. I wasn’t very happy with his reaction, and he should have examined your eyes. But this is what you have to be prepared for when you tell people you’ve been in prison for six years on drugs related charges. Not everyone’s a jonsjailjournal fan.”
“He was only young. I’m not surprised. He did what was needed. I’m prepared for that reaction. I can’t let it bother me. I know who I am.”
“So you’ve got to start taking the meds again. You shouldn’t have stopped so soon after your release. You’re not superman. It’s going to take time.”
“The funny thing is I’m trying to stop taking drugs (medication) and they keep giving me more.”
“Yes, but you can’t get arrested for taking these.”
“Very true. Yesterday, I was running round ASDA Wal-Mart like a kid in a candy store piling up the trolley with goodies I couldn't get in prison. Now I’m a wreck.”
“You were still on a high yesterday. When we get home you can have lunch, take your meds and sleep. You’re banned from the computer. Forget about blogging or emailing. You have to heal yourself. Your blog readers will understand. He grudgingly agreed and went to bed.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

The Prodigal Returns

We have all been deeply touched by your emails, comments and support for Jon. Thanks. He is starting to recover from the trauma of the journey home. We've told him to eat, sleep and recover for a few days before he gets seriously into blogging, but, in spite of tiredness, blurred vision, an allergy attack and shivering with the cold, he insisted on putting on a blog himself.

I'll fill in the posts tracking our journey when I've recovered from the tiredness created by the excitement of having Jon home.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood

Interviews

Indian Meal

We are a family again, Jon, Kathryn Dan and me. After eating cheese on toast, shaving off half of his beard, showering and sleeping, we are going out for an Indian meal

Airport

Journey to London

13 Dec 07

Journey to London

Jon rang this morning tired and disorientated with lack of sleep, wanting to know if the Consulate had been able to find out what time his flight was scheduled. Four o’clock had been mentioned to him but he wasn’t sure, and wanted more confirmation. Hanging up to save phone money running out, he said he’d ring back later. He sounded disappointed, and I was saddened that I couldn’t give him any more positive news.

We made the decision to travel to London regardless of not knowing the flight he would be on. We wanted to be there for his arrival. I’d had a case packed for days. This included fresh clothes for Jon.

Before leaving Dan checked the email. There was a message from the Consulate saying that he would be arriving at Heathrow, Terminal 3 at 11.30 tomorrow. This news came like a pathway through a heavy fog.

It was dark when we left at 8.00pm. The journey would take around five hours. But this was the journey we’d been waiting to make for the last six years. The journey to pick up our son and bring him home. All tiredness was gone. I felt like an actor in my own play. As we were moving through the night, I thought of Jon travelling from another world, chained, cuffed and then freed. At what point would our journeys collide?

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood