“
With respect to treatment while in detention - the medical care standard - the standards guarantees a right to hormone therapy for individuals who need it for treatment, and even in facilities that are not covered by that standard. Our
ICE House Service Corps is very vigilant on that issue to ensuring that individuals receive necessary hormone therapy,” said Kevin Landy, assistant director of the ICE office of detention policy and planning.
“Transgender detainees who were already receiving hormone therapy when taken into ICE custody shall have continued access,” the
report said. “All transgender detainees shall have access to mental health care, and other transgender-related health care and medication based on medical need. Treatment shall follow accepted guidelines regarding medically necessary transition-related care.”
10 comments:
"Help me, please! I'm a U.S. Citizen trapped in the body of a Guatemalan National!"
Hey, worth a shot.
What would Bruce Jenner have to do to get these freebies?
Gee, I think the guys who wrote the Bill of Rights missed that one.
As an American citizen, twice wounded veteran, I demand that I receive treatment to cover over-exposure to Super Bowl commercials! Oh, and some money also.
I'm right behind you AllenS.
AllenS - you'll have to leave the country, sneak back in and give yourself a new name and social security and keep collecting your current benefits while you get a boatload more under your new identity as AlejandroS.
Just now I stopped into the bottleshop for a 12-pack of Cokes when a young man stepped in front of me at checkout. He presents a charge card and a driver's license. The clerk says, "How about and id for you?" The man provides a crumpled note. The clerk is having none of it.
I would never have guessed him underaged. But the clerk did.
The underaged guy leaves saying, "Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Get out." The clerk, Lurch, wasn't having it but felt a bit bad.
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
Rhetorical conduplicatio again. Homiologia type repetition, a
tedious and inane repetition with unvaried style. The clerk is not getting rowdy, not at all, but the speaker is getting rowdy by leaving loudly and by repeating the phrase "Don't get rowdy!" The youngster is talking to himself.
And that's funny.
Before leaving while still pleading the guy goes, "Haven't I been here before? Haven't I given you good customer service?"
Very funny.
"Don't get rowdy!"
"Don't get rowdy!"
So now that's my new thing with Lurch. That's my new greeting, and the great thing about it is you say it ten times rowdily.
I played soccer in high school. We weren't good enough for the Varsity cheerleaders. They were for the football team. We got the JV cheerleaders.
They only knew one cheer, so far as I could tell.
R . O . W . D . I . E. That's the way we spell rowdy. Rowdy. Let's get rowdy. Wooo!
They were a better cheer squad than we were a soccer team, truth be told.
I now call Obama - Captain Debt.
Is there anything we tax payers won't pay?
I had a profound insight that is so deep I cannot even explain it.
Goes like this:
My older brother sent links of street level views of a wooden house we lived when I was in the First grade. I was already well a veteran of kindergarden. My awakening to the place was exploring the kennel in the backyard that fell into desuetude where junk was thrown and where we discovered a discarded box spring that made an excellent trampoline.
Maybe it wasn't a kennel. Maybe it was a vegetable garden. All my information comes from Barry and he invented answers to shut me up.
We explored the hill behind the house. Went way back there. Crossed the 2-lane high way and explored the creek, crossed the creek, followed the creek in both directions. We went back and forth to and from school. We went into town comprised of only a few streets.
My internal map does not match the real world.
It occurred to me all I knew of the place amounted to visual tunnels. My paths could be tracked along an actual map, so much of it unexplored as a child. That's what got me. Everything that existed on the road beyond the school was unknown to me because my tunnel ends at the school and immediately around it. Everything else could be Paris or Mexico City or Cuba.
The child-vision tunnel model breaks down a bit when I consider we did hike to high places and regard the whole town with awe. It really does look like a storybook town, did then and does now, if you can overlook what appears to be fairly serious economic stagnation.
The little house was old when we lived there and it looks like nothing was done to it. I don't know what is worse, the déclassé upgrades or doing nothing at all.
I am impressed how my brother provided the links.That right there is top sleuthing.
The radar base we lived on is now a careers preparation jobs center community type thing, they did not allow my brother admittance. As if.
I was so offended by that. Get them. I was getting all indignant just hearing that and it didn't even affect me.
Worse, the street we lived on is now called "Employability Avenue"
Gag.
No, seriously, just fucking gag.
I remember when we moved there and first beheld that street. A single street with houses on both sides totaling fourteen houses. It was completely ace to live there, highly desirable, it meant you didn't have to travel up and down the mountain every day. We lived at the top and the street curved away like a tarmac that slopes and curves like a "C" with a completely ace playground at the end of it and Little Red Riding Hood woods immediately all around the whole place. Secure and yet in the wilderness. A perfect street. We dug out our roller skates and rolled right down the whole street. First thing. Before opening boxes, before setting up, before eating lunch, before having a shower, before anything, roll down the street. Now called "Employability Boulevard." Ugh. I'm going to barf again.
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