Man Down! Prisoner Crisis Causes Conflict of Emotions

 This morning, a little more of my humanity died. Every time we prisoners suffer indignities from prison staff or other prisoners, or if we are forced to not act when we see someone in crisis, it strips more of our humanity. 

Early this morning, I was sitting on my bed writing, listening to music when I heard a loud thump and felt the gallery shake a little. I removed an earbud from my ear so I could hear the unit noise and determine if something serious was happening. 

"C.O.! C.O.! HELP! FIRST GALLERY!!" I heard several prisoners shout.

I jumped up and looked out my door to see a neighbor a few doors down lying face up on the ground in front of his cell. His head was hanging off the gallery, and he appeared to be passed out. 

I rushed over to him, as I was the only one close to him at the time. At first, he appeared to not be breathing, and I could see blood dripping rather quickly off the back of his head. Then, relieved, I saw his chest move. My EMT training from years ago kicked in, and I shouted his name, asking if he was okay. He was unresponsive to my call. 

Everything in me wanted to support his neck and head, to use a washcloth in his hands to staunch his bleeding. But I could hear the officers running towards us on the gallery, and I knew I would probably get in trouble if I touched him. I had to step back and wait for the staff to help him. 

I was appalled to see the first officer who arrived grasp the other prisoner by his feet and drag him back so his head was no longer hanging over the gallery. The officer didn't support his head in any way or protect his head from further injury. Clearly, the officer had not even the simplest training in first aid. 

As the officers took charge of the situation, I had to leave the area. Soon, the whole housing unit was closed as the officers and medical staff (who had arrived after several minutes) waited for the ambulance to arrive. 

The prisoner, who had apparently passed out, is a man around eighty years old whom I had befriended. He is new to prison, has no financial support, little family support, and has no clue how things operate in prison. Lately, he'd been feeling sick, so I'd been checking up on him and making sure he had tea and cough drops. Apparently, he was feeling worse than he let on. 

As he left the unit in a stretcher, I was able to give him a thumbs up, and he nodded to me. Hopefully he'll be well cared for in the hospital and be okay to finish out his short sentence. I know he's looking forward to going to live with his daughter when he leaves here. I don't know if anyone in his family even knows what happened to him today. 

My compassion for people like this old man is alive and well, but when I am unable to assist someone in need, especially when I have the training to do so, it steals something from my soul. I hope the freedom I'll have after I leave prison to choose how I respond to people in need will restore some of what I've lost in prison.