Yesterday was my first shift on the prison floor at the new hospital. When I say it's a prison, I'm talking about a legit prison with multiple doors, guards and metal detectors to get in. The seventh floor can only be accessed with a special badge and there is a guy with a gun guarding the elevator. The inmates/patients have already been tried and convicted. When they are discharged from the hospital, they go back to prison.
I was excited to work on this floor for a couple of reasons. I had even applied for corrections nursing jobs in the past. There is something intriguing about prisoners. For starters, what did they do to earn prison? Did they do something horrendous or something more mundane like violating a drug law. Although the U.S. puts more of it's citizens behind bars than any other country, most people you meet in your life have not spent time in prison. Prisoners are a minority, and to me fascinating. Given the amount of successful television shows and movies about prisoners, I know I'm not the only person who finds this group of people intriguing.
Another reason I'm attracted to corrections nursing is that I like to work with people that are mentally ill. There is a disproportionately high amount of mentally ill people in prison. There is plenty to debate and be appalled about in that statement, however, if your goal is to work with mentally ill people, you will find what you seek in a corrections setting.
Let me take a small detour and explain why I didn't just become a psychiatric nurse 4 years ago when I began nursing. I was intrigued and interested in the medicine side of nursing as much as the psychiatric part. As a new nurse, there are theories that it's a good idea to get diverse experience before specializing. So I spent a year in a clinic with a high population of homeless and addicted folks, a year on a medical surgical-psychiatric floor in washington DC and two years in a cardiovascular ICU. Now, I work in a recovery room and I'm a "float" nurse in an inner city hospital that happens to have a prison floor. I like jumping around to different areas of the medical field, it's one of the things about nursing I love and value. However, in all the areas I've worked in, the patients with mental illness tend to be my favorites.
Why do I like working with mentally ill people? Simply put they are a lot more interesting than normal people. You'll always get surprised and entertained. Of course there are downsides. Some people will wear you out. Some people are particularly aggressive and manipulative and will push you to your absolute limits of patience. But at the end of most days, I prefer the special folks.
I don't so much enjoy police and prison guards. If you read this blog, you know I've got a talent for getting pulled over. If you know me personally, you know that I don't always mesh well with chauvinistic, testosterone oozing, authority figures. While I have definitely met good cops, overall the profession does often attract people with a certain je ne sais quoi. And that little quality, does not mix well with Mrs. Blue.
With that groundwork laid, let me tell you about my day. Once being escorted inside the seventh floor I entered into what appeared to be any other hospital floor with the exception of glass encapsulating the nursing station, prison style doors and a zillion guards. I don't know how they decide to staff these guards, but on this particular day guards outnumbered the inmate/patients 2:1.
The vibe on this floor was dominated by the banter of the guards. Not having much to do, they congregated together in the hallway and joked around. They were obviously excited for the fresh meat (me) and almost immediately began with the teasing. I told myself it was good natured and that I was there to do a job.
I connected with the nurse I'd be orienting with that day and got our assignment. The diagnoses were nothing too out of the ordinary. One of our patients had gotten his blood too thin and had bleeding complications as a result of taking too much of his prescribed blood thinner, one had an infections in his jaw, which was wired shut. And one was having complications of his heart failure. This man was also mostly deaf and blind. He required feeding and diaper changes. He was pitiful.
As I entered his room, he was sound asleep. Seeing only his profile in the bed I thought he might be an overgrown who from whoville. His eyebrows jutted out inches into the air above his face and his hair tufts stretched out in all directions. As I assessed him, the guard whose job was to be in the room with me at all times voluntarily told me that the man had recently committed a double murder. I felt as though the guard was trying to scare me, so I just nodded in acknowledgment and went about my business. In this particular situation I wasn't intimidated. The inmate/patient was shackled to the bed, sleeping and incontinent. He was old and really sick. And if he did try something on me, I had an armed guard at my side.
I woke him up and his voice matched his scraggly appearance. If you combined gollum and a troll, that's what he sounded like. Despite his appearance, history and voice, he was pretty pleasant. His breakfast arrived on a styrofoam tray and I began to feed him scrambled eggs.
"Mmmmm! That's so delicious, thank you nurse!" he cackled. Without changing the octave of his voice he managed to convey emotion. It was odd.
The guard had already informed me that he lived for his meals and had only recently been able to eat regular foods again.
He continued to enthusiastically compliment every bite.
"I'm glad you are enjoying it!" I screamed. Because of his inability to hear, everything I said to him needed to be shouted.
He chewed another bite of his egg. "Protein for my mitochondria!" he croaked.
"Holy shit balls", I thought. That's easily the best thing I've ever heard.
"What did you say?" I asked as nonchalantly as one can while shouting.
He then explained that mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell needed protein to make energy. Does this convey why working with this population is fucking amazing. He lived for his meals, and I live for those kinds of comments.
I cut his ham with a spoon and fed that to him. "This is a great breakfast," he told me again. "Fatty acids to make that protein work!" he exclaimed.
Never in my history of feeding people or simply eating with them, had someone excitedly but in a flat and slow gollum voice remarked on the scientific effects of the food they were eating. In this one interaction my day was made.
Not everything was rosy on the 7th floor, however. As I alluded to earlier, the air was ripe for a head butt between me and the guards. The protocol was to tell a guard before you enter a room so that they can accompany you. If you have ever been a nurse or followed one around, you would know that we are constantly entering our patients rooms. In a combination of forgetfulness and feeling that it was obvious I was going to walk into a patients room, I neglected to tell the guard to follow me. He scolded me not alerting him. In my defense the guards were gathered in the hallway outside the patients' rooms. Could he not simply watch me and follow behind? The guards were also found of teasing and jesting. So I said to him "but it's ok, you're creepin' behind me." Not the right thing to say to a prison guard. He was very unhappy with that comment. I went back into the murderers room to give him some medicine and the guard pulled out a pair of disposable gloves from the bin outside the room. "Mr. Inmate," he said in a voice too soft for the patient to hear, "do you want a pair of gloves?"
"Why are you asking him if he wants gloves?" I asked the guard unamused.
"So that when he strangles you, there's no DNA evidence left on your neck."
Things were starting to get confusing. Was I supposed to be protecting myself from the guards or the patients? I didn't respond and I heard him in the hallway talking to the other guards about his brilliant comment. My blood was boiling. A different guard came to watch over me in the inmate/patient's room. As he continued to talk shit in the hallway, I could no longer hold my tongue. I poked my head out, made direct eye contact with him and growled "I. was. joking."
He stopped. The day progressed without a hitch. I was able to be friendly with several other guards and shit-talk guard left me alone. I hoped that my hazing had officially ended.
When I got home and relayed the story to Joseph and he was not amused. He rightly pointed out that if I couldn't follow the rules, I shouldn't be in a corrections setting. He also didn't seem to understand what attracted me to corrections nursing in the first place. At the time of our conversation I couldn't articulate a satisfying response for either of us.
I resonated on these two points from our conversation for a couple of days.
1) Why did I think corrections nursing was "cool"?
2) Did I act poorly in regards to the guard situation and safety.
I think I've sufficiently addressed in this post what I like about prison nursing. As for how I handled the guard situation, I decided Joseph had a valid point. I need to follow the damn rules or stay off the seventh floor. In the interest to returning to a work situation I enjoyed, I will very carefully follow all of the rules next time.
I was excited to work on this floor for a couple of reasons. I had even applied for corrections nursing jobs in the past. There is something intriguing about prisoners. For starters, what did they do to earn prison? Did they do something horrendous or something more mundane like violating a drug law. Although the U.S. puts more of it's citizens behind bars than any other country, most people you meet in your life have not spent time in prison. Prisoners are a minority, and to me fascinating. Given the amount of successful television shows and movies about prisoners, I know I'm not the only person who finds this group of people intriguing.
Another reason I'm attracted to corrections nursing is that I like to work with people that are mentally ill. There is a disproportionately high amount of mentally ill people in prison. There is plenty to debate and be appalled about in that statement, however, if your goal is to work with mentally ill people, you will find what you seek in a corrections setting.
Let me take a small detour and explain why I didn't just become a psychiatric nurse 4 years ago when I began nursing. I was intrigued and interested in the medicine side of nursing as much as the psychiatric part. As a new nurse, there are theories that it's a good idea to get diverse experience before specializing. So I spent a year in a clinic with a high population of homeless and addicted folks, a year on a medical surgical-psychiatric floor in washington DC and two years in a cardiovascular ICU. Now, I work in a recovery room and I'm a "float" nurse in an inner city hospital that happens to have a prison floor. I like jumping around to different areas of the medical field, it's one of the things about nursing I love and value. However, in all the areas I've worked in, the patients with mental illness tend to be my favorites.
Why do I like working with mentally ill people? Simply put they are a lot more interesting than normal people. You'll always get surprised and entertained. Of course there are downsides. Some people will wear you out. Some people are particularly aggressive and manipulative and will push you to your absolute limits of patience. But at the end of most days, I prefer the special folks.
I don't so much enjoy police and prison guards. If you read this blog, you know I've got a talent for getting pulled over. If you know me personally, you know that I don't always mesh well with chauvinistic, testosterone oozing, authority figures. While I have definitely met good cops, overall the profession does often attract people with a certain je ne sais quoi. And that little quality, does not mix well with Mrs. Blue.
With that groundwork laid, let me tell you about my day. Once being escorted inside the seventh floor I entered into what appeared to be any other hospital floor with the exception of glass encapsulating the nursing station, prison style doors and a zillion guards. I don't know how they decide to staff these guards, but on this particular day guards outnumbered the inmate/patients 2:1.
The vibe on this floor was dominated by the banter of the guards. Not having much to do, they congregated together in the hallway and joked around. They were obviously excited for the fresh meat (me) and almost immediately began with the teasing. I told myself it was good natured and that I was there to do a job.
I connected with the nurse I'd be orienting with that day and got our assignment. The diagnoses were nothing too out of the ordinary. One of our patients had gotten his blood too thin and had bleeding complications as a result of taking too much of his prescribed blood thinner, one had an infections in his jaw, which was wired shut. And one was having complications of his heart failure. This man was also mostly deaf and blind. He required feeding and diaper changes. He was pitiful.
As I entered his room, he was sound asleep. Seeing only his profile in the bed I thought he might be an overgrown who from whoville. His eyebrows jutted out inches into the air above his face and his hair tufts stretched out in all directions. As I assessed him, the guard whose job was to be in the room with me at all times voluntarily told me that the man had recently committed a double murder. I felt as though the guard was trying to scare me, so I just nodded in acknowledgment and went about my business. In this particular situation I wasn't intimidated. The inmate/patient was shackled to the bed, sleeping and incontinent. He was old and really sick. And if he did try something on me, I had an armed guard at my side.
I woke him up and his voice matched his scraggly appearance. If you combined gollum and a troll, that's what he sounded like. Despite his appearance, history and voice, he was pretty pleasant. His breakfast arrived on a styrofoam tray and I began to feed him scrambled eggs.
"Mmmmm! That's so delicious, thank you nurse!" he cackled. Without changing the octave of his voice he managed to convey emotion. It was odd.
The guard had already informed me that he lived for his meals and had only recently been able to eat regular foods again.
He continued to enthusiastically compliment every bite.
"I'm glad you are enjoying it!" I screamed. Because of his inability to hear, everything I said to him needed to be shouted.
He chewed another bite of his egg. "Protein for my mitochondria!" he croaked.
"Holy shit balls", I thought. That's easily the best thing I've ever heard.
"What did you say?" I asked as nonchalantly as one can while shouting.
He then explained that mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell needed protein to make energy. Does this convey why working with this population is fucking amazing. He lived for his meals, and I live for those kinds of comments.
I cut his ham with a spoon and fed that to him. "This is a great breakfast," he told me again. "Fatty acids to make that protein work!" he exclaimed.
Never in my history of feeding people or simply eating with them, had someone excitedly but in a flat and slow gollum voice remarked on the scientific effects of the food they were eating. In this one interaction my day was made.
Not everything was rosy on the 7th floor, however. As I alluded to earlier, the air was ripe for a head butt between me and the guards. The protocol was to tell a guard before you enter a room so that they can accompany you. If you have ever been a nurse or followed one around, you would know that we are constantly entering our patients rooms. In a combination of forgetfulness and feeling that it was obvious I was going to walk into a patients room, I neglected to tell the guard to follow me. He scolded me not alerting him. In my defense the guards were gathered in the hallway outside the patients' rooms. Could he not simply watch me and follow behind? The guards were also found of teasing and jesting. So I said to him "but it's ok, you're creepin' behind me." Not the right thing to say to a prison guard. He was very unhappy with that comment. I went back into the murderers room to give him some medicine and the guard pulled out a pair of disposable gloves from the bin outside the room. "Mr. Inmate," he said in a voice too soft for the patient to hear, "do you want a pair of gloves?"
"Why are you asking him if he wants gloves?" I asked the guard unamused.
"So that when he strangles you, there's no DNA evidence left on your neck."
Things were starting to get confusing. Was I supposed to be protecting myself from the guards or the patients? I didn't respond and I heard him in the hallway talking to the other guards about his brilliant comment. My blood was boiling. A different guard came to watch over me in the inmate/patient's room. As he continued to talk shit in the hallway, I could no longer hold my tongue. I poked my head out, made direct eye contact with him and growled "I. was. joking."
He stopped. The day progressed without a hitch. I was able to be friendly with several other guards and shit-talk guard left me alone. I hoped that my hazing had officially ended.
When I got home and relayed the story to Joseph and he was not amused. He rightly pointed out that if I couldn't follow the rules, I shouldn't be in a corrections setting. He also didn't seem to understand what attracted me to corrections nursing in the first place. At the time of our conversation I couldn't articulate a satisfying response for either of us.
I resonated on these two points from our conversation for a couple of days.
1) Why did I think corrections nursing was "cool"?
2) Did I act poorly in regards to the guard situation and safety.
I think I've sufficiently addressed in this post what I like about prison nursing. As for how I handled the guard situation, I decided Joseph had a valid point. I need to follow the damn rules or stay off the seventh floor. In the interest to returning to a work situation I enjoyed, I will very carefully follow all of the rules next time.
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ReplyDeleteI think part of the thing that appeals to me when I visit prisons is that you know every one of those people has an interesting story behind their stay there and, despite that fact, you often can not tell them apart from any pedestrian. I walk into a prison and get on the floor I am visiting and imagine a million different histories for every person I see. Unfortunately I never find out most of the stories, but it still gets my imagination and curiosity rolling.
ReplyDeleteI can walk on a floor to a prisoner mopping the floor and he will casually talk to me about the weather. They are locked up for who knows what for who knows how long...and they are interested in a weather chat. It's mind boggling.
I've been thinking recently about police as authority figures. Just pulling someone over puts the fear of god in people. But police enforce the law, they don't make it. And there are plenty of circumstances where police abuse their power. I read an article today that a police officer drove by a person too close, forcing that person to press against their car, the person made a comment, the officer backed up and asked the person if he had a problem with his driving, and the person got arrested. You should not be intimidated by police when you are not in the wrong. And though you should follow the rules (lest the next murderer not be as handicapped) you shouldn't be intimidated into following the rules. They are guards, not god. They aren't any better or more important than you. They just like to think they are.