I have seen many strange and unpleasant things in prison. My colorful experiences there began before I had even arrived in a prison facility. I had lost an extremely dangerous amount of blood after the shooting. When I next awoke it felt like a day had passed. The doctor who had operated on me to remove two of the three bullets that had entered my body informed me that in fact an entire week had passed. As soon as the decision was made that I was going to live I was shipped off to North Carolina’s Central Prison’s infirmary unit. Even though my side and abdomen were literally held together with thick metal staples I was forced to ride handcuffed, upon my back, and in excruciating pain the entire three hour drive. When I arrived at the prison hospital I was rolled into a corner of a busy hospital ward and left there until a doctor arrived to record my injuries. The ward was filled with medical professionals and injured inmates. One of the inmates had been recently brutally raped by another inmate and the back of his prison uniform was completely soaked through with the blood that was still bleeding from his torn rectum. One of the prison officials had casually informed me during the ride over that they were going to put me in the most violent ward that the prison had in hopes that I too would be brutally raped. That was the kind of treatment I learned to expect from many of the officials at Central Prison. They were determined to pay me back for daring to assault a police officer and neither my injuries nor my sentence was enough in their eyes.