This is not really a funny story but very surreal. We laugh about it today because it really was just too crazy!
I was in the Behavioural Health Unit passing meds as usual when the officer standing to my right tells me very casually to lock up my med cart and leave the tier. Because I was not focusing on her and so not really paying attention to what she said I turned to see what she wanted. She told me again that I need to lock up my med cart and leave the tier. Without waiting for an explanation I closed my cart up and started for the very heavy double set of doors that close off the tier from the rest of the building and are opened electronically by an officer who is sealed in an impermiable "bubble" above my head; it gives him the opportunity to see both tiers at teh same time if there is trouble. At the same time I looked behind me and saw a little skinny guy in just his tighty-whiteys coming at us with his hand up to his right eye and a trail of blood coming out from underneath. Because I am the first medical staff on scene I make the call to our emergency response people who use the code "109" over our radio system and let them know that we have a medical emergency in the unit. Because this inmate has a history of being violent the officers put on their kevlar gloves and take him into a large room that serves as a classroom and get him into a chair before they will let any medical staff examine him. First, they have to ensure our safety as well as the inmate's, then they have to establish whether or not this was an assult.
As our 109 person arrives I began reporting what had happened so far and she begins to ask him questions as to what had happened. We find out that he had cut his eye with a razorblade. While we are all reeling from the shock of that news and while she begins rumaging around in her bag for some gauze to cover his eye with, he begins trying to dig it out!!! We both alerted the officers and one of them began pulling his hand away from his eye and get his hands restrained behind his back and things began to settle down a little bit. By now, other officers withmore brass began arriving to survey the situation and start working on getting this eye out to the hospital. I was helping 109 get the paperwork put together, making copies of things the hospital would need when I looked over my shoulder to check something I noticed the inmate had his legs crossed one over the other and he was rubbing his eye across his knee. I shouted for the officers to stop him and two more officers had to jump on his legs to keep him from being able to raise his legs. As 109 and I are hovering over the inmate to get him to raise his head and let us look at his eye the officers were placing the inmate in shackles and we heard a tiny little whine and I thought I was hearing something. Apparently, so did 109 because she looked at me and asked, "is that him? Where did that noise come from? Is it coming from him?" Up until this point the inmate was totally non-responsive and so we were astonished to hear something coming from him! Everyone got very quiet and we all listened and heard whining again. 109 jumped in and asked, "is that you?" to the inmate and in a very tiny voice he responded, "too tight" so low we could barely make it out. He repeated it again and everyone began asking him what was tight and he finally let us know that the chain around his stomach was too tight around his waist. The officers quickly checked but the restraints were only snug and the inmate finally revealed that he was feeling smothered and wanted his shirt off, it was too hot. From there things sped up and the ambulance arrived and they had him out of his chair and covered with a blanket and tied dwon and on his way.
After he was gone, 109 and I looked at his mental health history and found that he had a history of hearing voices and claimed that people dressed in white would command him to hurt himself.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Major Foot in Mouth!!
Okay, so this story has to be the first one I tell you. I about croaked when this happened and still have not been able to live it down with the officers that work in the Behavioral Health Unit. Just to warn you...always keep in mind what you say to people and always think of all the little cliches we use in our daily life, it might come back to bite you one day unexpectedly!
The Behavioural Health Unit is where we house the inamtes that have mental issues, some criminal, some truely insane, some just appointed there by the judge for their own safety and the safety of the public. This was my favourite unit to work in. At specific times of the day the pharmacy staff goes into the unit to pass meds to the inmates who line up in front of the medicine cart, which stores their medications in cardboard backed bubble cards with their name and prescription on it. There is always an officer present and depending on what tier you are working, there can be two or three present. The inmates are required to bring a see-through cups full of water, you give them the medication that is ordered, they take it in front of you, the officer checks the inmate's mouth to be sure they are not "cheeking" their meds. They like to do all kinds of funky things with their meds, like crush it up and snort it, pass it off to another inmate who might be told it's something else that they desire, or just taken to the toilet and flushed because the inmate feels they don't need the medication.
The inmates in that unit know me and have found that I won't put up with any shinanigins and so respect my pill call. However, one day I had a new guy in the pill call line and he did not yet know about my "don't-set-your-water-on-my-med-cart" rule. For the most part, I'm pretty easy-going and put up with a little joking around or even smart-ass comments because someone is having a bad day and I usually give an inmate one time to screw up.
This new inmate approached my cart and I was familiar with the name but knew nothing else about him other than he was "certifiable" and I just needed to keep an eye on him. He was not threatening or beligerant but rather quiet and pleasant and spoke with a gentle tone. As he approached my cart he automatically set his water cup down and waited for me to dispense his medication. Immediately, I notified him that "I only had one rule while in my pill call line. Never put your water on my cart!! If it spills it goes down into the cart and destroys everyone's pills and then we have to reorder everything new." Then I proceded to tell him, "if your water spills, heads are going to roll!" I was smiling of course while I said this, just a cliche everyone uses daily without a second thought. However, it didn't have quite the response you would expect.
Things had suddenly become quite in the line behind him while his fellow inmates watched him and me very closely. He stopped drinking his water for a moment and looked at me with a very puzzled expression, then took another drink and started away from me to show the officer his mouth then looked at me again with a very tiny grin on his face, like he knew something I didn't, then walked back to his cell. The officer standing next to me me burst out laughing and said, "I'm glad he's on his medications!" It took me by surprise and I asked "why", but all I got was an "I'll tell you later."
Later I wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment!!! The officer told me, after we had left the tier and I was safely locked back up in the med room, that this inmate had been convicted of murder because he believed his landlord was the Devil and had to be killed, so he killed him and used his head as a bowling ball rolling it down the hallway until the police detained him.
The Behavioural Health Unit is where we house the inamtes that have mental issues, some criminal, some truely insane, some just appointed there by the judge for their own safety and the safety of the public. This was my favourite unit to work in. At specific times of the day the pharmacy staff goes into the unit to pass meds to the inmates who line up in front of the medicine cart, which stores their medications in cardboard backed bubble cards with their name and prescription on it. There is always an officer present and depending on what tier you are working, there can be two or three present. The inmates are required to bring a see-through cups full of water, you give them the medication that is ordered, they take it in front of you, the officer checks the inmate's mouth to be sure they are not "cheeking" their meds. They like to do all kinds of funky things with their meds, like crush it up and snort it, pass it off to another inmate who might be told it's something else that they desire, or just taken to the toilet and flushed because the inmate feels they don't need the medication.
The inmates in that unit know me and have found that I won't put up with any shinanigins and so respect my pill call. However, one day I had a new guy in the pill call line and he did not yet know about my "don't-set-your-water-on-my-med-cart" rule. For the most part, I'm pretty easy-going and put up with a little joking around or even smart-ass comments because someone is having a bad day and I usually give an inmate one time to screw up.
This new inmate approached my cart and I was familiar with the name but knew nothing else about him other than he was "certifiable" and I just needed to keep an eye on him. He was not threatening or beligerant but rather quiet and pleasant and spoke with a gentle tone. As he approached my cart he automatically set his water cup down and waited for me to dispense his medication. Immediately, I notified him that "I only had one rule while in my pill call line. Never put your water on my cart!! If it spills it goes down into the cart and destroys everyone's pills and then we have to reorder everything new." Then I proceded to tell him, "if your water spills, heads are going to roll!" I was smiling of course while I said this, just a cliche everyone uses daily without a second thought. However, it didn't have quite the response you would expect.
Things had suddenly become quite in the line behind him while his fellow inmates watched him and me very closely. He stopped drinking his water for a moment and looked at me with a very puzzled expression, then took another drink and started away from me to show the officer his mouth then looked at me again with a very tiny grin on his face, like he knew something I didn't, then walked back to his cell. The officer standing next to me me burst out laughing and said, "I'm glad he's on his medications!" It took me by surprise and I asked "why", but all I got was an "I'll tell you later."
Later I wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment!!! The officer told me, after we had left the tier and I was safely locked back up in the med room, that this inmate had been convicted of murder because he believed his landlord was the Devil and had to be killed, so he killed him and used his head as a bowling ball rolling it down the hallway until the police detained him.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Introduction
This is the beginning of my third year working in a medium security state prison. For obvious reasons I can not divulge the location of this prison and if you should ever guess as to it's location, just keep it to yourslf.
I should have started this blog two years ago. I have found that the public don't have the fainest clue as to what goes on behind the razorwire and have been either sheltered most of their lives or have only ever been exposed to the prison system if they had a family member or friend that has been incarcerated, seen it on t.v., which is really nothing more than sensationalizing it, or reading what little is ever printed in books or newspapers. In my experience over the last two years I realize I never had a clue either.
I am just going to share some stories of everyday life in the prison that I work in. I think you'll find it slightly enlightening, possibly you won't believe me, some of you will be absolutely horror struck, but everything I will say here will be absolutely factual truth. I was once asked by one of the practitioners that I work with why I continued to work with the most forgettable people in the world for only $11.50 an hour. My answer: "Morbid fascination." Before I moved here from Los Angeles, California, I was working as a Medical Assistant for a doctor in Beverly Hills for about $20 an hour, just to give you an idea as to how profound this statement was.
I come from a family that is riddled with law enforcement and have been exposed to that all my life. My mother was a Medical Assistant while I was growing up and my father was a Paramedic for awhile, so First Response and "all things bad and gorey" have been part of my life. I've pretty much "seen it all." I have worked with and treated all walks of life, even dealt with a few drug users and such. I have even touched on the surreal life the underworld for a bit. None of this compares to the life of prison inmates. I am still finding out how niave I can be.
My husband, who was my boyfriend at the time and an officer at the same prison I work at, took 6 months to persuade me to leave my crappy-ass job as an appointment scheduler with an MRI group and finally apply as a Certified Nurses Assistant in the Long Term Care Unit at the medium security prison. Every prison show I ever watched that showed medical personnel working in a prison and getting beat up flew through my mind and I flat out said "no!" Then he started telling me about his day and how there were a lot of other women who worked out there and they never had any problems. After hearing this over and over again I thought to myself, "how bad could it be". So I agreed to put in an application, but I was only signing up for part-time, that way if I didn't like it I could quit and I would still have my day job. I could always use the extra money anyway. In 6 months I quit my other job and began working in the prison full time. I had gotten hooked. I was a law enforcement junky. This was the best job I ever had since I had left my doctor in Beverly Hills!
And so my fascination with life behind the razorwire began.........
I should have started this blog two years ago. I have found that the public don't have the fainest clue as to what goes on behind the razorwire and have been either sheltered most of their lives or have only ever been exposed to the prison system if they had a family member or friend that has been incarcerated, seen it on t.v., which is really nothing more than sensationalizing it, or reading what little is ever printed in books or newspapers. In my experience over the last two years I realize I never had a clue either.
I am just going to share some stories of everyday life in the prison that I work in. I think you'll find it slightly enlightening, possibly you won't believe me, some of you will be absolutely horror struck, but everything I will say here will be absolutely factual truth. I was once asked by one of the practitioners that I work with why I continued to work with the most forgettable people in the world for only $11.50 an hour. My answer: "Morbid fascination." Before I moved here from Los Angeles, California, I was working as a Medical Assistant for a doctor in Beverly Hills for about $20 an hour, just to give you an idea as to how profound this statement was.
I come from a family that is riddled with law enforcement and have been exposed to that all my life. My mother was a Medical Assistant while I was growing up and my father was a Paramedic for awhile, so First Response and "all things bad and gorey" have been part of my life. I've pretty much "seen it all." I have worked with and treated all walks of life, even dealt with a few drug users and such. I have even touched on the surreal life the underworld for a bit. None of this compares to the life of prison inmates. I am still finding out how niave I can be.
My husband, who was my boyfriend at the time and an officer at the same prison I work at, took 6 months to persuade me to leave my crappy-ass job as an appointment scheduler with an MRI group and finally apply as a Certified Nurses Assistant in the Long Term Care Unit at the medium security prison. Every prison show I ever watched that showed medical personnel working in a prison and getting beat up flew through my mind and I flat out said "no!" Then he started telling me about his day and how there were a lot of other women who worked out there and they never had any problems. After hearing this over and over again I thought to myself, "how bad could it be". So I agreed to put in an application, but I was only signing up for part-time, that way if I didn't like it I could quit and I would still have my day job. I could always use the extra money anyway. In 6 months I quit my other job and began working in the prison full time. I had gotten hooked. I was a law enforcement junky. This was the best job I ever had since I had left my doctor in Beverly Hills!
And so my fascination with life behind the razorwire began.........
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