I am a prisoner first, foremost, and always. I’m here for life, which is to say I’m here to die, slowly, incrementally, bits of me failing as the New York State Department of Corrections struggles to keep me alive. It’s a touch paradoxical, really, the fact that one of my few rights as a prisoner is the right to health care, given that I’m here for life. Unlike you, I will get the best health care that your tax money can provide. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part: a life sentence is like being married, but without the handholding.
