A Guardian Angel in Prison

I was a Director of Nursing at a large prison in the state of Georgia. It was not a glamorous or a overly important job position. I believe I had six employees. We did care for fifteen hundred inmates and I used many agency nurses to assist us.

One of my duties was to order and then to pick up the monthly supplies for the medical unit. It was usually quite the expedition. I was required to have an officer with me at all times. I also took an inmate orderly with me to lift the boxes.

One of the medical orderlies, Mr. N had attained Trusty status which means his security risk was the lowest. Trusty inmates have not been in any trouble for many years and have no discipline reports. Which is good. We liked Trusty orderlies to work in medical and places like the Warden’s office. Mr. N was also a Christian. He was one of the rare felons who would look you in the eye and tell you he was guilty and deserved to be in prison. Everyone else was innocent, of course.

One day Mr. N, the officer, and myself took off with a huge buggy to the laundry to get supplies. You had to go through the hot laundry room to get to the warehouse area. Before the warehouse is an anteroom.  Almost a cage really. A prison is full of locked cages.

I picked up the supplies. The buggy over flowed so a supply orderly was helping us. Several inmates and I were in the anteroom and the officer left me. He left me there in the anteroom with four felons and no one else. It was an awful breach of protocol. Yes, I was afraid. Then Mr. N stepped closer to me and said, “Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here” with quiet confidence. You see, he was respected because of his faith and how he served others in that place. He was also six feet tall and had huge biceps.

Size is not always a factor however. I saw little guys fight like crazy in the prison system too. I witnessed the aftermath of stabbings and many terrible things I will not discuss further.

My being left in that cage shook me. After that I demanded a radio. Which I was given reluctantly. A radio can save you in a bad situation and keep you informed of the happenings in that walled and gated city. I kept that radio with me. It was my buddy.

Mr. N, though it was not planned, actually was moved to the prison I transferred to just before I retired. It was such a blessing to see him care for the sick inmates in our little prison hospital. He became a Certified Nursing Assistant via classes my supervisor taught.

He has been released. He is home with his wife who stood by him through sixteen years of incarceration for robbing an ATM machine. They have nine children.

He was my guardian angel that day. The reality of what could have happened is unspeakable. He stood in the breach. God placed him there for me that day. He was an answer to a quick prayer.

I am linking with Cindy at I Owe It All to Him for her link party. Please visit and read the other accounts of how people have made a difference in the most special ways.

To better understand Christ’s view of the care and treatment of prisoner’s read Matthew 25:31-46. 

 

grace surrounds us

Olive

 

Friends, Lunch, Ramblings

Lunch, yesterday was here at the Enterprise Mill in Augusta, Georgia. 

It is a large structure, sitting on the Augusta Canal, and has been restored for mixed use. My retirees association has it’s luncheons here every three months. I wish my camera could take a picture of the floors for they are naturally distressed and wonderful. There are businesses, apartments, and happily a new cafe.

Turbines

These photos do not convey how large this equipment really is. The smoke stack is tall and imposing. When I took the photo of the window I captured it’s reflection. Totally unplanned. I don’t know how to do things like that. Serendipity.

Joe and I found a kiln in the park.  The kiln is rusty and primitive. I like it.

At lunch we sat with this couple! It has made my week! I was so excited to see them. She retired last December from the Family Medicine section which I worked with for four years.  She has a dry sense of humor I appreciate bunches. I wish for them the best of times. They have two precious grandchildren they plan on spending a vast amount of their time with. Yah!.

Oh my goodness! That I get to see them more often just makes me smile.

grace surrounds us

Olive

A Riot of One

A prison has certain sounds. They are rhythmic. The prison usually sounds the same at the same time every day. A prison is all about routine and sameness. The two I worked at were both operated like military organizations. I was always getting those military titles confused. It is frowned upon to call a Lieutenant a Sergeant. I had always worked where people were terribly informal so I had a challenge when trying to use all those proper titles. The nurses did not allow the inmates to call them by their first names.

I was in the habit of arriving early to work every day. This worked well for me. I did not feel rushed going through all the locked gates, the x-ray machine, and the metal detector. You also need to stop at the front desk and trade a chit for your prison door keys. Everywhere you go you must unlock and lock the door. It requires thought. A bathroom key is critical.

One morning I arrived early. It was about six-thirty am. I was in the first cage with a Sergeant. The inmates would have been eating breakfast in shifts by this time. The officers were changing shifts. The noise inside the prison was wrong. It was loud. Too loud. The Sergeant said something about the noise being off and I agreed. He said "It sounds like a riot". It did. Not that I had any expertize in the matter but I just knew it did. The officers controlling the gates left us in the cage for a while. I imagine they were calling people in charge. At that time not a lot of officers are present on the yard. When we got in the front door they let the Sergeant in. Not me. I was left in the office part of the prison. I could see through expansive windows onto the yard.

The prison has a couple of mental health dorms called J1 and J2. The mental health inmates are classified according to severity of mental disorders and level of supervision needed. There are a large number of level three inmates in J2. Level three mental inmates need close supervision. They see the mental health staff frequently. One particular level three inmate named Sam was a fairly tall well built man. He was known to be quiet and respectful. He had been working out for months. Buffing up. Muscular. That morning he asked a Lieutenant a question in the dining hall. I heard it was a simple request. I don't know the truth because I wasn't there. The officers are trained in dealing with mental health inmates but that doesn't mean they listen. I am just saying a staff member has to be mindful that these guys are not stable by any degree. Sam took the Lieutenant's billy club away from him.

Then it was on. The full force of the officers were on Sam. Sam went out onto the large grass yard. The inmates in the yard were cheering for Sam. I witnessed this from the office windows. He was pacing with the billy club. He looked angry and fierce. He had been working out for this moment, planning it. It was his and he owned it. Four officers jumped on him. Then a fifth. He was the Sergeant who was in the cage with me earlier. All I could see was arms flying. Eventually, Sam was subdued and taken to the Medical Unit. It felt as if this scuffle took a long time but it took a few seconds in reality. I viewed it in slow motion it seemed.

The officers at the front let me onto the yard. I went straight to the Crisis Stabilization Unit. Since it was still the night shift there was one night nurse on duty. I helped him with Sam. Sam was on the floor bucking. All the officers had some sort of minor injury. Sam had NONE. The night nurse and I, after calling the doctor, gave him three injections. Which was no small feat. The officers used the shock shield on him. It's a Plexiglas shield that covers the torso with a built in taser. It was effective. He calmed enough to have the injections in his buttocks.

Meanwhile out in the yard there were about ninety mental health inmates virtually unsupervised. They were too dumb, stupefied, and starstruck to act. But they could have taken over that yard. One of the more irritating occurrences that morning was that the Warden did not Lock Down the prison. I would have. I would have put every inmate in their cell for the remainder of the day. But I am a simple nurse not security. After Sam was put in a CSU cell I called Joe. I told him it would be a swell day to mail my retirement package.

Olive Out