Staying In Touch With Your Incarcerated Loved Ones During a Pandemic

The past year has been terribly difficult for those of us who have friends and loved ones in prison. It has been more lonely for those who are in prison--and perhaps worst of all for those incarcerated individuals who are intellectually/developmentally disabled (I/DD). The culprit was not the prison administration or the legislature. It wasn’t our own finances or transportation difficulties that kept us from seeing our loved ones. Instead, it was an invisible foe--one that we had no way to fight--the Coronavirus pandemic of 2020. And, now that 2021 is upon us, visitations continue to be an on-again/off-again situation.

To combat the mental and physical effects of isolation, prisons have extended phone time for inmates. In the state prison system where my son resides, they have doubled the phone time limit from 60 to 120 minutes per day. The downside is that phone time costs money. Not everyone is as privileged as others. Down a paycheck, because their loved one is in prison, and many with children to still care for, they cannot afford the cost of daily phone conversations, which at my son’s institution is just under a nickel per minute. I am fortunate, and I know it. My son’s institution’s service provider, Connect-Network, has also provided a free one-minute call per week since the pandemic started. It’s not much, but for those with no other option, it’s something.

However, as the mother of an individual who is I/DD, I know that one minute per week is not enough time to ascertain how my loved one is doing. From my experience, I know that sometimes it takes several minutes--or a whole phone call--to find out if there is something troubling him. Other times, he will be agitated from the git-go--when some unknown factor has set him off before our call--and one minute is not nearly enough time to get to the bottom of things, much less get him calmed down. I am able to keep my phone account funded, and so I know, that when my son and I have disagreed about something or something has bothered him, he will eventually call me back, and we can have a calmer conversation. Not so, if all we had was one minute per week.

It was so much better when I could also physically visit with him once a week or every two weeks. I know that he had fewer episodes of agitation, depression, or even physical complaints when we were able to have in-person visits on a regular basis. As it stands, we saw each other only a few times between February 2020 and mid-August when visits were suspended again.

Not only were there no visits after August, but my son’s situation changed drastically. Coronavirus hit the institution. Several individuals within his unit tested positive. However, because of the delay between testing and results, the administration probably was too late to manage it. Although he originally tested negative, my son chose to stay in the locked-down unit. Eventually, he too tested positive, extending the lockdown.

Lockdown meant that he and his cellmate would stay in their cell for approximately 23 hours per day. They would only be allowed out for showers. At first, this was every other day. It was finally relaxed to daily. This was his existence for over a month. Luckily, his unit was cleared of the virus on the last day of 2020, and they returned to somewhat normal.

Again, I was very fortunate to be able to speak with my son on a daily basis--through the headache, the Covid-coughing, the digestive symptoms, and the isolation. I was able to assess whether he was getting worse or, thank goodness, in his instance, better. I know that many others were not as fortunate.

Once that the institution reopened to the public again, Nebraska weather kept me from visiting my son. We were able to visit in mid-January, and that was our first visit since August. But, simply scheduling a visit can be problematic. First, you have to give three different date/time options. If you work, have children in school, care for other loved ones, it can be difficult enough to arrange for time off. Sometimes you will get no more than three days’ advanced notice. Not knowing which date and time will be approved adds one more stressor in an already stressed life.

On Friday afternoon, February 26th, I drove the 58 miles from Omaha to Lincoln to visit my son for the first time since mid-January. Due to unforeseen difficulties, I was late and therefore turned away. So that you can avoid what happened to me, I would suggest that you build in extra time for traffic problems, road work, weather, etc., and strive to arrive 15-30 minutes before your appointed time. Take it from me, they will not process you for a visit if you arrive late, no matter how far you’ve traveled.

Things are always changing. The Nebraska prison system is continually looking for ways to ease the problems associated with the pandemic. For those who can afford it, 30-minute remote video visits will soon be rolled out, at the cost of $12.99 per visit. That’s something. Right? I’m putting 2020 behind me and hoping for a happier new year. I sincerely hope that all of you are able to find ways to stay in touch with your incarcerated loved ones.

A follow-up to this story: My son’s unit went into lockdown once again starting on Thursday, March 11th.

Yesterday, I was Able to See My Son for the First Time in Five Months

The Coronavirus pandemic has prompted prison officials across the country to suspend visiting privileges for the safety and security of incarcerated individuals, prison staff, volunteers, and the community. Recently, I have heard prisons referred to as petri dishes, where illness and viruses such as this can spread much faster than in the community at-large. All-in-all, the prison system in my state, the state of Nebraska, has done a good job of keeping the virus in check.

They’ve also done an exceptional job of keeping incarcerated individuals and staff informed of ways they would combat the spread of the virus within the institution. Visits were suspended in mid-March 2020 in order to reduce the exposure. They were resumed again the week of July 13th, and then suspended again less than a month later in response to an uptick in cases within the institutions. That suspension was supposed to be temporary with a reevaluation after two weeks. That suspension period ended up lasting until this week. 

During that time period, cases surged. In my son’s unit at Lincoln Correctional Center (LCC), that swell occurred the week of Thanksgiving. He tested negative on November 25th, but was treated as if he were positive when he refused a move with others who had tested negative. I did not understand his choice until he explained that transfer would be to the gym, sleeping on cots, where social distancing would be impossible. He said that all of their belongings, (e.g. televisions, etc.) would be locked up until they could be returned to a unit. Because he stayed in his current unit, he was put on lock-down. 

Although Carlos was held in his cell for 23-hours per day, only being allowed out to shower, he saw it as preferable to “floating a boat” in the gym. (The term petri dish again came to my mind). I was not surprised when he told me, two days later, that he had a headache and a cough. I figured that those who’d tested negative had already been exposed and there was a potential for an eventual positive test. My son was retested on November 30th, even though he said he felt better, and he did not have a temperature. But on December 1st he told me he’d been up all night with diarrhea, there was more phlegm, and I could hear the difference in his cough. He eventually recovered, and his unit was released from lockdown on Christmas Eve. 

I know how helpless we feel as mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, family members and friends, when our incarcerated loved ones are in such a high-risk environment. As soon as I learned of the uptick in cases at LCC, I began tracking the numbers of cases on the Nebraska Department of Corrections’ website. There were 105 cases at LCC the week my son’s unit was tested. Currently there are zero in his institution and 29 within the whole department. I feel like I can breathe again.

And, now I can visit him again. Visits are not like they used to be pre-Covid. There are no kisses, hello or goodbye. I can’t embrace him to transfer all my feelings of love and protection to him. I can’t sit next to him, and put my hand on his arm, or give him a playful punch when he says something obnoxious or funny. We can’t share a bag of M&Ms, nor can I feed him a big meal of an Italian sub, chips, a cookie, and a pop out of the vending machine. That would be so much better. What mother doesn’t try to fix everything with food?  Still, even though we were sitting face-to-face, separated by a distance of six feet at all times, and his big, bright smile was hidden by a face mask, I was able to see him-to evaluate his health, both physical and mental-and know with my own eyes that he’s okay.  I’m thankful for that. 

I know that having a loved one in prison is a hard thing even under normal circumstances. It is even more difficult now, when we are worried about what’s going on inside the institution and worried about ourselves out here. I know first hand that for those of us who have incarcerated loved ones who have an intellectual/developmental disability (I/DD), our worries are exponentially multiplied. Just know that you are not alone.

If you have a story, I want to hear it. Please send your stories through the Send Stories link above, or contact me through the Contact link. And check back as I continue to investigate and write about issues that impact our incarcerated loved ones with I/DD.

Let's Put 2020 Behind Us

The past year has been terribly difficult for those of us who have friends and loved ones in prison. It has been more lonely for those who are in prison--and perhaps worst of all for those incarcerated individuals who are intellectually/developmentally disabled. The culprit was not the prison administration or the legislature. It wasn’t our own finances or transportation difficulties that kept us from seeing our loved ones. Instead, it was an invisible foe--one that we had no way to fight--the Coronavirus pandemic of 2020. And, now that 2021 is upon us, there is no end in sight for when it might be safe, once again, for prisons to open their doors to visitors.

To combat the mental and physical effects of isolation, prisons have extended phone time for inmates. In the state prison system where my son Carlos resides, they have doubled the phone time limit from 60 to 120 minutes per day. The downside is that phone time costs money. Not everyone is as privileged as others. Down a paycheck because their loved one is in prison, and many with children to still care for, they cannot afford the cost of daily phone conversations, which at my son’s institution is just under a nickel per minute. I am fortunate, and I know it. Carlos’ institution’s service provider, Connect-Network, is also providing a free one-minute call per week at this time. It’s not much, but for those with no other option, it’s something.

However, as the mother of an individual who is I/DD, I know that one minute per week is not enough time to ascertain how my loved one is doing. From my experience, I know that sometimes it takes several minutes--or a whole phone call--to find out if there is something troubling Carlos. Other times, he will be agitated from the git go--when some unknown factor has set him off before our call--and one minute is not nearly enough time to get to the bottom of things, much less get him calmed down. I am able to keep my phone account funded, and so I know, that when Carlos and I have disagreed about something, or something has bothered him, he will eventually call me back, and we can have a calmer conversation. Not so, if all we had was one minute per week.

It was so much better when I could also physically visit with him once a week or every two weeks. I know that he had fewer episodes of agitation, depression, or even physical complaints when we were able to have in-person visits on a regular basis. As it stands, we’ve seen each other only twice since February 2020, the last time being mid-August. 

Now, not only are there no visits, but Carlos’ situation has changed drastically. Coronavirus has hit the institution. Several individuals within his unit tested positive. However, because of the delay between testing and results, the administration probably was too late to manage it. Although Carlos originally tested negative, he chose to stay in the locked-down unit. Eventually, he too tested positive, extending the lockdown. 

Lockdown meant that he and his cellmate would stay in their cell for approximately 23 hours per day. They would only be allowed out for showers. At first, this was every other day. It was finally relaxed to daily. This has been his existence for over a month. Luckily, his unit was cleared of the virus yesterday, the last day of 2020, and now they will go back to somewhat normal. 

Again, I’ve been very fortunate to be able to speak with Carlos on a daily basis--through the headache, the Covid-coughing, the digestive symptoms, and the isolation. I was able to assess whether he was getting worse or, thank goodness, in his instance, better.  I know that many others are not as fortunate. 

If you have a story, I want to hear it. Please send your stories through the Send Stories link above, or contact me through the Contact link. And check back as I continue to investigate and write about issues that impact our incarcerated loved ones with I/DD. Here’s hoping for a happier new year. Let’s put 2020 behind us.

2020 Census - Why It's Important for Our Incarcerated Loved Ones Who Have I/DDs

Today, April 1st, 2020, is Census Day. Every ten years, everyone in the United States has the opportunity to be counted through the U.S. census. The demographic information gathered through the census process has a direct impact on funding for programs like special education, health care, Medicare, Medicaid, Head Start, and even the national school lunch program. Additionally, the government uses census data to fairly and equitably apportion the seats in the U.S. House of Representatives among the states.

Even in the best of situations, individuals with disabilities are considered hard to count. Group facilities count people in residence in their facilities on Census Day. For our incarcerated loved ones, this means the administrators of their prison institutions are responsible for counting them. Because we know that there are flaws in how prison institutions identify and count individuals with intellectual/developmental disabilities (I/DD), we know that this population is at a disadvantage. We know from the beginning that they will be underrepresented and programs that benefit them will be underfunded. 

The inability of prisons to accurately identify, track, and trend the segment of their population who have I/DDs is an excellent justification to contact prison officials, state legislators, and our senators. Let them know that until they find a way to honestly represent our incarcerated loved ones who have an I/DD, that programming in our state will be under-supported. Think about it this way. If the count of incarcerated individuals who have an I/DD reflects that 6-10% of the prison population have I/DDs, rather than the estimated 2-3%, perhaps more funding will go to programs that educate those individuals and keep them out of the criminal justice system in the first place. Some situations lead individuals with an I/DD to become involved in the criminal justice system. Perhaps these situations could be addressed with educational programming. But, funding is not likely to be allocated unless the criminal justice system finds a better way of identifying, tracking, and trending this population. 

EVERYBODY, please complete the 2020 Census. It’s easier than ever, and you can complete it online. 

But while you’re at it, don't forget to contact your state and federal representatives. We need programs to reduce the number of individuals with an I/DD entering prison. We need to develop community-based programs and provide alternatives to incarceration for this vulnerable population. Programming will not happen until we implement a system to identify all individuals within the prison population who have I/DDs.

Olmstead Hearing LR 250

If your loved one is one of the 6-10% of individuals who are I/DD and justice involved, you should pay attention to a legislative hearing that will be taking place on Wednesday, December 18th, at 9:00 a.m., in Room 1510 at the Nebraska Capitol building. This is an interim study to review, develop, and implement programs and services for qualified persons with disabilities in the most integrated community-based settings, commonly referred to as the Olmstead Plan. This includes those who are I/DD - even if they are incarcerated or otherwise justice involved. People who are I/DD who are justice-involved qualify for the protections of the ADA. We have to make sure that individuals who are I/DD - especially those who are currently incarcerated or otherwise justice involved - are not overlooked.

I will be testifying at the hearing on Wednesday morning. Please check back here, at https://aaa4idd.org for updates regarding the Olmstead Hearing. Or, if you have time, watch the hearing, streamed live on Nebraska NET: http://netnebraska.org/interactive-multimedia/government/legislative-hearing-health-and-human-services-am-session-room-15-4

You Are Not Alone

There's no better way to help than to reach out to others and share our stories.

Your first step is to realize you are not alone. This site is meant to keep us connected and informed. And, if sometime in the future, you want to share a story about your loved one with I/DD who is incarcerated, formerly incarcerated, or has recently become involved with the judicial system, then we can talk about putting your story out there. It might help others - the way I hope that sharing my story helps you.