* Events written about in this entry are fictional, and are not at all based upon what I may or may not have seen at work last night. Any resemblance to real-life morons and true cluster-fuck events is purely coincidental.

If you are a Spanish-speaking inmate, we will do everything we can to provide interpreters for you if you have questions of the cell block deputies, or if you need medical assistance, or what have you.

However, for a handfull of you to try and organize a riot (with talk of killing guards!) because you think that the other hundreds of inmates in the jail should have to watch your preference of Spanish-speaking TV channels is a bit too much, don’t you think?

All of the inmates in each cell block have to vote upon which of the 100-plus cable TV channels to watch at any given time during the day or evening. Since this is, um, America, naturally the vote usually goes to select English-speaking TV shows.

And you want to throw a temper tantrum about that?

Let me spell it out for you. I speak English. If I moved to Mexico and got arrested, I wouldn’t expect everyone I came into contact with to speak English. It’s Mexico. They speak Spanish in Mexico. I knew this before I went to Mexico. I wouldn’t expect the hundreds of fellow prisoners in the jail to watch TV shows in English — a language they couldn’t understand — just for my convenience. I’d either learn to speak Spanish, or I’d shut the fuck up and make a mental note to not get arrested in a non-English-speaking country again.

So, to all of the inmates who think they should riot (cause hundreds of thousands of dollars in property destruction and hurt/kill deputies and other inmates) so they can watch Spanish-speaking TV shows which most of their fellow inmates cannot understand:

If you want to sit around a jail with free room and board and watch Spanish-speaking TV programs all day, then get arrested in a Spanish-speaking country.

More tips:

Tips for the Incarcerated, Episode 1
And don’t EVEN whine to me about the food!

I have this conversation with various inmates at least 3-5 times a day:

Inmate (in an indignant tone): The food here sucks! There is no excuse for it! I’m calling my lawyer!*

Me (in a faux-understanding tone): I haven’t tried it myself, but I’m sure it is pretty awful, you poor thing. In fact, I think the only people who get worse food are our brave military men and women serving our country and risking their lives every day in Iraq! I bet they’d trade their MREs for the food you get any day. – I smile sweetly. –

Inmate: – Silence –

________________________

* What I wish I could say also:

You can order from the comissary, which has plenty of reasonably-priced food and snacks to buy if you don’t like what is being served in the jail. What, you have no money? Well, you had PLENTY of money for your DAILY meth use, pot use, and 20 year, 2 packs per day cigarette smoking habits. You also had enough money to buy enough liquor to enable you to get drunk enough to swerve your car all over the highway with a blood alcohol content of 0.25 (legal limit 0.08), so where did all your wealth evaporate to? You’ve only been in jail five days! Maybe you should plan better financially the next time you try to kill people with your drunk driving and get arrested for it, or molest your granddaughter, or violate a restraining order eight times, etc.

FUN FACT: Most prisoners maintain their weight or gain weight in jail.

FUN FACT #2: If the food is that bad, then why do the deputies (who can leave and go to McDonalds if they want to) gladly eat any extra prisoner meals the kitchen has on hand?

Last night was the first “deputy in distress” code I’ve experienced since working at the jail. When the call came out over the radio, I looked at the other nurse I worked with and we were both thinking the same thing: BETTER NOT BE FUCKING WITH OUR OFFICERS! OH NO YOU DIDN’T!

The deputies don’t always like or respect the nurses at the jail. Sometimes we make more work for them, like insisting that the person blowing a 0.425 gets a medical clearance from an ER doc before we accept them. That’s when they try to tell us that the firefighters have already cleared them medically.

Excuse me, but firefighters don’t work here, are not bound by the standing orders written by our chief medical officer physician, and aren’t the ones who have to take care of the inmate. Also, just because they have penises does not mean that their medical wisdom is above mine. I respect EMTs, because I started out as one. I respect paramedics, because I was one. But then I went on and became an RN, and I now have 15 years medical experience. Don’t make me fucking discuss my resume and credentials with you just because I have a uterus, K?

ANYWAY, back to my point. The deputy being “acted upon” by the inmate ended up being OK.

But it reminded me that my old code of “any officer in uniform is MY officer, and ya don’t fuck with them” that I had from my EMS days is still alive and well. Even though, as an RN, the officers don’t have the respect for me and the comaraderie with me that they had way back when I was a paramedic.

After the incident, the other nurse and I were talking with the sargeant about how pissed off we would have been if the inmate had actually hurt an officer.

In conversation, both myself and the other nurse relayed to the (male) sargeant that we felt that way despite the fact that we had been let down by/had reason to be mistrustful of police agencies in the past.

As our stories spilled out, I was shocked at the sheer number of times that both of us have been let down by select few officers (in other states).

Once, she had called the cops because she had a restraining order against her soon-to-be ex-husband. They showed up and stood around and watched him beat her. Then, after he had broken two of her ribs and her nose, they put HER in handcuffs. Why did this happen? Her husband was a police officer.

I didn’t even try to call the cops when my (now ex) husband turned from emotionally abusive to physically abusive. He was a firefighter, and even though the cops in my hometown were awesome for the most part, I knew from my EMS days they have no sympathy for battered wives, and they have a lot of allegiance to firefighters.

Also, once I was in an accident where a man tried to make a left turn from the far right lane and crashed into me. The officer that responded FROM THE DERBY, KANSAS POLICE DEPARTMENT (yeah, I’m talkin to you!) tried everything to frame me for the accident. Let me make it clear: I was driving straight down the road when someone TURNED THEIR CAR AND SLAMMED INTO MINE. It was very clear that I was 0% at fault. The cop even went so far as to say that it was my fault the guy hit the right side of my car, because my front driver-side tire was 8 inches over the double yellow line on the left side of the car (where my car was pushed when the other guy crashed into me). The guy even told the officer repeatedly, “Hey, it was MY fault! Why are you trying to blame her?” (Even though he later “caught on” to the officer’s intentions and told his insurance agency that it was my fault. I was still found blameless in the accident.)

Ya know, I still can’t believe that happened. It was fucking UNREAL. Power in the wrong hands can be a frightening thing.

But despite these bad experiences, and some other bad experiences since, I will always have the utmost love and respect for law enforcement officers. Every profession has its assholes. But if push came to shove, even the asshole cops out there are willing to DIE for STRANGERS.

How can you not be loyal to that?

I still hope the cop that tried to blame me for the car wreck gets infected hemorrhoids and chronic explosive diarrhea. Rot in hell, ya woman-hating bastard!

But for the rest of you in uniform out there — you may or may not treat me very kindly if we ever cross paths (I’m not a cute, thin young thing in a miniskirt any more), but I still send you much love and pray you stay safe. Thanks for everything that you do for all of us.

Inmate, to me: “YOU get your fucking FAT ASS down those stairs and get me some tylenol, NOW!”

What I said (calmly): “We’re done here.” I shut the cell door pass-thru and walk away, as the deputy locks up and the inmate continues screaming for my death and throwing things in her cell.

What I wanted to say: “I may be fat, but I can lose weight, and you’ll never lose your chronic and debilitating case of ‘crazy scumbag whore’. Not only is my fat ass going to be sleeping in its own bed tonight, but I think I’ll take some tylenol right now, just because I can. Bitch.”

* Events written about in this entry are fictional, and are not at all based upon what I may or may not have seen at work last night. Any resemblance to real-life morons and true cluster-fuck events is purely coincidental.

Work release is a pretty sweet deal. You keep your day job, get to eat anything you want all day, wear normal clothes, and do whatever. You only have to return to jail at night to serve your sentence.

TIPS FOR PEOPLE ON WORK RELEASE:

1. If your girlfriend (who is married to someone else) is the one picking you up and dropping you off every day, have her stay in the car. Don’t have her greet you warmly in the very-public courthouse.

2. Do not choose the parking lot of the jail — which has police officers, sheriff’s officers, and surveillance cameras everywhere — as the place to beat up said girlfriend just after she gave you a ride back to jail for the night. Not only will charges be pressed, but officer eyewitness testimony and video presented in court is pretty strong evidence against you. Also, you’ll lose your sweet work release deal which included keeping your job, keeping your income, and obviously some stolen nookie-time with said girlfriend.

BONUS TIP FOR THE LADIES!

When filling out a police report after having the shit kicked out of you by your significant other, the phrase “I love him so much!” is really not relevant.

Yesterday, I was talking to another nurse at the jail, and I asked her about treating inmates that have committed crimes that she found particularly reprehensible. She of course said that treating child molesters, especially incestuous child molesters, was difficult for her.

I started trying to think about what my limit would be. Of course, nobody likes a child molester, but I can distance myself from the reality of such a heinous crime since I was neither a victim as a child, nor do I have children now.

Would it be rapists? Because goddam I hate me some motherfucking rapists! Wifebeaters? As a former receiver of emotional and physical domestic abuse, I would think that would be it, but half of the guys in there have restraining orders against them and it hasn’t bothered me so far.

Then later, I was talking to another nurse who told of working a prison riot in a different state. I never realized how many times the most horrible details of crimes are not released to the public, and this prison riot was no exception. She told of what the inmates did to other prisoners. Horribly tragic. But then she told of what the rioting inmates did to the guards, and it was then I felt it. That overwhelming hate and anger towards a perpetrator of a crime that I couldn’t squelch or control.

That one thing I don’t think I could look past, even long enough to be professional for 30 seconds, is a crime against a law enforcement officer.

So I’ve discovered my own personal “hot button”, and it’s up to me to figure out how to get over it before I actually have to face an inmate who has raped, shot, or killed someone in law enforcement.

Don’t get me wrong… I would never withhold appropriate medical care from anybody.

But how do you treat an inmate professionally when the whole time you just want to scream at them: “I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL, YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABORTED!”

I’m about to leave for day 4 of my new job as an RN at the jail. So far, I find the inmates much more courteous to the nurses than patients in the hospital are. Of course, many lie and try and manipulate you, but it’s to be expected, and truthfully it’s no different than working on EMS or in the ER.

The funny thing is that people really cop a ‘tude (ha ha, get it? “Cop” a tude? I slay me!) when I say I’m working in a jail. They act like it’s the bottom of the barrel, like I’m too scummy or incompetent to get any other job.

Truth is, this is much better than working in a hospital. Sure, I’d rather have a desk job and never have to interact with another patient or doctor again, but this is just fine in the meantime. Although the inmates often want a constant flow of pills for EVERYTHING, even if you don’t give it to them they seem to appreciate just being treated like a human being.

Think about how awful it would be if we all walked around with a sign on us that listed the most horrible, low crap we’ve ever done in our lives, and that everyone we met read the sign first and judged us on only those lowest, most despicable actions. Would be awful, wouldn’t it? I imagine that’s how these inmates feel.

I think the scariest part of it for me is that, after talking to some of these people, I find they are really not any different than myself or anyone else I know.

Of course, it’s impossible to find sympathy for the guy who is in jail for his 8th DUI or for being a sex offender, but some people are in their for just one mistake, and this mistake is going to haunt their lives. They had to tell their employer they were in jail. If in for a while, they lose their house and may be in financial ruin by the time they get out. If convicted, they will have to list their offense on every job application. They run up huge lawyer bills. But most of all, their self-esteem takes a nose dive.

As one woman said to me: “I never thought I’d be in a place like this. This is not who I am!”

Not only do others see you differently from that point on, but you see yourself differently, and it’s defeating.

I am treated like less of a human being by many people I meet since I gained weight. No eye contact, not treated with the same courtesy as a thin person would be, and treated like being fat somehow equals being stupid or worthy of scorn. Can you imagine how people with a record are treated?

With the judgmental attitude people have today, is there ever really such a thing as someone who has paid their debt to society? I strongly suspect there isn’t, and that people who end up in jail continue paying that debt over and over. If you’ve been in jail, I don’t think that mistake is ever really behind you. And that gives you even less to lose if you mess up again, so why try?

It makes me sad.