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The Heart Behind The Walls
- jmsaba, CNN iReport producer
I work in a venue that most people do not even want to think about. Each and every day, I work with people that society describes as "rejects," "undesirable," or "dangerous." Each and every morning, I enter a world of thick steel doors, cold floors, unforgiving bars, and cinder-block walls. But I do not wear a badge or carry a weapon. I carry a stethoscope, I walk softly, and I wear very thick skin.
I am a correctional nurse and although the majority of people I speak with do not understand how I can do what I do, there are times I feel the same about other professions. But to each of us who enter those heavy locked doors, it is literally a calling and one that we do not answer lightly.
From the young mother who injected too much methamphetamine and forgot to check on her baby to the elderly man with Alzheimer's who forgot to show up at court; the reasons are many and the excuses are even more plentiful, but one thing will always hold true to this population of people. They are all human. While some are admittedly cruel and their actions incomprehensible, there are others who simply made poor choices and are paying the consequences. Regardless of why they are incarcerated, each one has medical needs that must be addressed.
As I walk the brightly lit corridors between cells, I often hear brutal conversations, have degrading remarks made to and towards me, and the ever-present frequent flyer asking if I will see him or her at today's sick call. One inmate has diabetes, another has Hepatitis C, a young girl is pregnant, a young man has just lost his mother, an elderly man has high blood pressure, a twenty year old young woman has had a stroke, someone will die tonight . The list is endless.
Even though there are days I question this calling, every inmate that enters my exam room has a story to tell. Every vial of blood I draw, every blood pressure I take, ever pill I administer, every tear I watch fall, every one of them has a bit of truth and a bit of fiction and it is my job to separate the two.
It is also my job to provide competent, professional, empathetic, and compassionate care. I literally have to know a little bit about everything. The majority of my inmates are addicts, most from broken homes, and nearly all of them, hurting in one way or another. Most days I am just the nurse while others, I am the "bitch," and on occasion, I am the angel.
To say it can be challenging, would be a tremendous understatement. There are days I go home in tears because I know the inmate I have just treated, has committed the unspeakable. And yet the very next morning, I don my scrubs and return behind those walls.
The correctional officers at the facility where I work never leave me unattended. If I am with an inmate, they are always present. Questions are asked and answered from both sides and I rely heavily on their observations and opinions before treating inmates I am unfamiliar with and more often than not, inmates I am familiar with. I am their partner and they are mine and I could not do my job without them.
I love what I do and yes, there are times I am angry and disgusted by what I must witness. And then there are the times when I see an inmate on the street who recognizes me (and this is always a moment of stress for me), they smile and thank me for making a difference in their life. A positive difference.
I treat my inmate patients equally and though they may not get what they want and rarely have a kind word to say about me, they know I am their greatest and sometimes only, advocate for their continued healthcare during their incarceration.
I rise and go to bed with a clear conscience, knowing that I continue to answer my call, the best way I can.
I am... the heart behind the walls
Photo From Amos House Community "Why it Pays to Imprison: Interrogating the Prison-Industrial Complex" http://amoshouse.wordpress.com/2010/04/08/why-it-pays-to-imprison-interrogating-the-prison-industrial-comple
I am a correctional nurse and although the majority of people I speak with do not understand how I can do what I do, there are times I feel the same about other professions. But to each of us who enter those heavy locked doors, it is literally a calling and one that we do not answer lightly.
From the young mother who injected too much methamphetamine and forgot to check on her baby to the elderly man with Alzheimer's who forgot to show up at court; the reasons are many and the excuses are even more plentiful, but one thing will always hold true to this population of people. They are all human. While some are admittedly cruel and their actions incomprehensible, there are others who simply made poor choices and are paying the consequences. Regardless of why they are incarcerated, each one has medical needs that must be addressed.
As I walk the brightly lit corridors between cells, I often hear brutal conversations, have degrading remarks made to and towards me, and the ever-present frequent flyer asking if I will see him or her at today's sick call. One inmate has diabetes, another has Hepatitis C, a young girl is pregnant, a young man has just lost his mother, an elderly man has high blood pressure, a twenty year old young woman has had a stroke, someone will die tonight . The list is endless.
Even though there are days I question this calling, every inmate that enters my exam room has a story to tell. Every vial of blood I draw, every blood pressure I take, ever pill I administer, every tear I watch fall, every one of them has a bit of truth and a bit of fiction and it is my job to separate the two.
It is also my job to provide competent, professional, empathetic, and compassionate care. I literally have to know a little bit about everything. The majority of my inmates are addicts, most from broken homes, and nearly all of them, hurting in one way or another. Most days I am just the nurse while others, I am the "bitch," and on occasion, I am the angel.
To say it can be challenging, would be a tremendous understatement. There are days I go home in tears because I know the inmate I have just treated, has committed the unspeakable. And yet the very next morning, I don my scrubs and return behind those walls.
The correctional officers at the facility where I work never leave me unattended. If I am with an inmate, they are always present. Questions are asked and answered from both sides and I rely heavily on their observations and opinions before treating inmates I am unfamiliar with and more often than not, inmates I am familiar with. I am their partner and they are mine and I could not do my job without them.
I love what I do and yes, there are times I am angry and disgusted by what I must witness. And then there are the times when I see an inmate on the street who recognizes me (and this is always a moment of stress for me), they smile and thank me for making a difference in their life. A positive difference.
I treat my inmate patients equally and though they may not get what they want and rarely have a kind word to say about me, they know I am their greatest and sometimes only, advocate for their continued healthcare during their incarceration.
I rise and go to bed with a clear conscience, knowing that I continue to answer my call, the best way I can.
I am... the heart behind the walls
Photo From Amos House Community "Why it Pays to Imprison: Interrogating the Prison-Industrial Complex" http://amoshouse.wordpress.com/2010/04/08/why-it-pays-to-imprison-interrogating-the-prison-industrial-comple
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