Earlier this year, the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections made changes to the toilets.
At State Correctional Institution, Mercer, toilet flushing in some cells is now limited to a single flush every five minutes. If flushed a second time within that timeframe, the system prevents another flushing for an additional hour — a fact signaled by a persistent red light.
The delay system has led to some unfortunate, and unsanitary, situations.
The water volume and pressure in the toilet have also been reduced, which some residents say are not always sufficient to clear waste. This can lead to persistent odors, ammonia buildup and increased insect presence.
“I have to use a cereal bag full of water to get enough water to flush,” said Larry Rapp, an incarcerated man in his late 60s. “Otherwise it does not go down.”
Alan Summerville, another older gentleman, described having to push fecal matter down the toilet with his bare hand. “The water pressure is that low,” he said, adding that he hoped his extreme method would help to get the issue corrected. (I have employed a similar method, though I used a wad of toilet paper.)
The disgusting cost of cost savings
Recently, a virus swept through the housing unit, leaving many people in the unit — myself included — ill with vomiting, diarrhea and body aches.
Russ Owens said he and his cellmate both threw up and had diarrhea. At one point, unable to flush a second time until the five minutes were up, his cellmate puked into a bowl of unflushed feces.
I was struck with body aches and the runs, but my cellmate managed to avoid the virus. Still, he was inconvenienced by the odors and my frequent requests that he step out while I dealt with business.
The new flushing protocol is part of a larger cost-saving sustainability program underway in Pennsylvania, said Ryan Tarkowski, a department spokesperson, in an email to a Prison Journalism Project editor. In addition to plumbing, the state is also upgrading lighting, heating systems and wastewater equipment.
“At SCI Mercer, the toilets in cells are designed and installed with upgraded fixtures and controls to ensure that waste is effectively contained and flushed,” Tarkowski said. There have been occasional reports of incomplete flushing, he said, but these appear to be isolated situations. “Any issues with flushing or toilet function are addressed promptly by facility maintenance staff.”
Other states have made similar changes. Last year, in Washington state, the department of corrections limited the number of flushes to three every five minutes — a move intended to reduce water use and prevent the flushing of unusual items like blankets and clothing, according to reporting from KNKX-FM.
The flushing limitations are not merely inconveniences. If a second flush is required, you’re forced to sit in the cell with fecal matter still in the toilet until the five minutes is up.
That poses a big problem, since all of us must consume our meals in the cells. During the COVID-19 pandemic, meal trays were delivered to the housing unit and distributed by incarcerated workers to each cell. The in-cell meal practice continues across the state.
Adjustments and improvisations
Being older and diabetic, I urinate quite frequently. With the five-minute rule, that can inconvenience my cellmate. He may have just come in from the yard or work and be forced to wait to use the bathroom.
Since the units were installed in February, I have been locked out three times without being able to sufficiently clear the waste. My cellmate has not appreciated having to smell my feces.
I can relate. Recently, I returned to the cell to pee, but my cellmate claimed he had accidentally hit the flush button a second time too soon, locking us out for an hour.
During lockdowns, we’re stuck in the cell together. Now that we can only flush once every five minutes, we’re unable to courtesy flush — an act of basic respect intended to displace any remaining gas fumes so your cellmate is not subjected to them.
The mornings can be especially complicated. We both have to wake up early for work, so getting ready can be quite the dance.
The prison cell — slightly smaller than your average parking space — is small for two people. To imagine how small we’re talking, swap the car in the parking space for a steel-framed bunk bed, a pair of wall-mounted lockers, a stainless steel table and chair, and a toilet located about an arm’s length from the beds.
It’s common for both of us to require a morning constitution. One of us has to wait while the other goes about their business grooming, getting organized and preparing for the morning meal. Since the new flushing regime was installed, this morning negotiation can grow tense: Who goes first? Do I have to hold my pee until he’s done? Does he flush and lock me out for five minutes?
Fortunately, we have managed by clearly communicating. I recently acquired a watch with a digital timer, which has been useful. When either of us uses the toilet while the other is out of the cell, we will leave a note indicating when the last flush occurred.
It’s too soon to tell how the population will take to the new rules. After nearly three decades behind the walls, I have learned to adjust and improvise through constant changes.
But it’s not hard to imagine things going poorly, at least in the beginning. In a place designed to limit autonomy, micromanaging how much we flush is an indignity that will almost certainly lead to conflict. To avoid problems, the department should increase the number of flushes.
Tarkowski, the department spokesperson, said the new toilet fixtures and controls are in use at other facilities in the state. There have not been “any reports of conflicts or assaults between cellmates related to flushing restrictions or water pressure,” he added.
