1 March 2021

     I was up at 3am as I am really stressed out.  They still have not gotten me my venetoclax.  However, RN Barton informed me it was my responsibility to inform HSU staff that the staff who transported me to the hospital failed to pick up my medication.  This ignores the facts that I do not know what the transport staff pick up, that my medication came from UW Health, and that the transport staff check in with medical staff upon returning to the prison.  Hence, if they had been told to pick up my medication and failed to do so, a competent medical staff would have known this when the transport staff handed over everything upon returning to the prison.

     Not only are they incompetent, they cannot take responsibility for their failures.

     I need to go to the library and type up my response to the State asking the court to deny my sentence modification.  And I need three sentence modifications, not one.  But I knew from the get-go that I would not find relief.

     I am tackling Renoir: An Intimate Biography by Barbara Ehrlich White.  It began more as a documentary list but has improved as it has gone on.  Yet it pales in comparison to Darwent's Josef Albers biography.  Darwent did do a hell of a job, I must admit.

     In one of Renoir's letters, he wrote that "the wooden clogs keep you from being afraid of cold feet" in the winter.  I cannot imagine wearing wooden shoes.  There is no pliability there.  That cannot be comfortable, let alone warm, can it?

     With that said I do not think France deals with Wisconsin cold, but they sure did during the Battle of the Bulge.

     I was out running my 5K this morning, and over the intercom they kept calling runner.

     On the units they hire guys to be runners.  Their job is to inform guys on the unit that they are needed to go someplace within the prison.  When a runner is called, they go to the sergeant's station and find out who is needed where.

     I kept waiting for someone to come tell me they needed me at HSU to take my medication.  But call after call, each of which felt like a punch, no one came for me.  Finally, Tommy Dawson told me they needed me at HSU.

     At 10:41am, 48 hour and 26 minutes late, I finally received the 800 milligrams of venetoclax.  There was no apology.

     They just do not see me as a human being.