37 and a half to life

What a difference a day makes!  On Monday, the day after I was desperately awaiting to hear about my husband, I called the correctional facility. I asked to speak with his counselor, when I told her why I was calling, she transferred me to another counselor because "her computer wasn't up" (whatever that means). The second counselor told me that they don't deal with HIPAA forms. She transferred me to the medical admin. The woman who answered the phone didn't seem to understand why I was calling. She announced that she couldn't tell me anything, I felt like I was in the "Groundhog Day" movie and began to explain all over again. The woman finally said, your husband can sign the HIPAA form when he gets back from the hospital. I shook my head and took a deep breath before saying, "I just want to know if he's OK, now! and by the way, no one ever called me to tell me he was taken to the hospital." To which she responded, "so, how did you

Today I feel helpless. I know, I should be used to this; being married to a man who is incarcerated, who doesn't have a say over many of his own actions and decisions, frustrating as it is, you never do.  This is a new level and the worry is overwhelming. You see, I haven't spoken with my husband in three days, not unusual, but what makes this different is, the last time I spoke with him he was very sick. He was coughing, had shortness of breath and hadn't been able to sleep due to feeling so unwell. I had been urging him to put in for a sick call for days and he kept telling me no. "I'll just work out and be fine!" but I told him that we're in the middle of a pandemic, please get seen. Even my sister, who is a medical professional, gave him marching orders to get medical attention, he declined. Finally, last night (Saturday), I called the facility to see if they would tell me if he was OK. Perhaps he was in the infirmary or had been quarantined. I also ne