Page 4 of In Death, Love Survives
A bat. It has to be a bat. This hurts like I’ve been hit with a baseball bat, but maybe now’s not the time for semantics.
As I collapse to the ground, I see him standing over me. Then darkness takes over.
ONE
Nova, Present
“We havea prisoner transfer coming in this afternoon,” Tim says with a heavy sigh.
“Hopefully, the rain stops long enough for it,” I answer.
“It’ll happen either way.”
“But wouldn’t it be nice for everyone involved if it weren’t?”
Tim shrugs as he continues focusing on the paperwork he’s been reading at one of the tables in the employee lounge.
It bothers me more than it should when he shows such indifference to the prisoners here. Given his profession, I would have hoped he would be more empathetic than he usually is in situations like this.
Instead of dwelling on Tim’s indifference, I turn my attention back to pouring coffee from the burnt, lukewarm coffee pot. We’re both among the first to arrive, yet the day-shift coffee always tastes like it’s been sitting overnight, when I know it hasn’t.
It’s one of the downsides of working at Roper State Penitentiary that employees just have to accept. We’re nevergoing to get the funding to replace the basic necessities, never mind the employee coffee machine.
Whoever swaps the coffee out during the shift change clearly doesn’t ever partake in any.
Who am I to really complain? It does the job, and that’s all I can ask for these days—a slight caffeine fix to start my morning.
Anything to get a spark of energy during a dreary day like this one. It’s been raining on and off for the past few days, which makes it less than ideal conditions for the latest transfer this morning.
Today is one of my least favorite days as a prison psychiatrist for selfish reasons. Due to the new prisoners arriving this morning, today is one of the days when I’ll be staying much later than I usually do. The prisoners who identify as needing mental health support ahead of arrival are sent to my wing for evaluation.
It’s an intake process that I try to put my utmost care into doing correctly. The problem with transfer days is that the medical wing of Roper State is understaffed. I don’t really mind the late hours, but it adds so much more to our plates.
I’ll see each of them today and then, over the next three or four days, have a more in-depth sit-down to review their medical histories and determine patient care.
Since Roper State Penitentiary has limited staff, it means that on a good day, it’s just my staff psychologist Tim, our assistant Jessica, and me to help the hundreds of prisoners who need our support. When we have to add more patients to the mix, it only increases the stress.
Not every day looks the same for us. On the positive, some days, we get additional psychologists to assist, who are on rotation among all state prisons.
I shouldn’t be complaining though. I know this is my calling.
The dreary day, mixed with poor sleep, has me feeling sorry for myself when it’s the patients I should be concerned about. They’ll need me to be more positive than this.
“I’m heading to my office,” I call out with my cup of coffee in tow.
Tim gives me a slight nod as he keeps his focus on the paperwork.
To him, these prisoners all could have the same number and diagnosis. It’s disheartening to see the way he moves about them like they are just a number. I’ve tried talking to him multiple times about it and how we all need to give each patient the specialized care they deserve, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.
To be honest, sometimes I do understand why he’s gotten like this. It’s a lot for an understaffed team of medical experts to handle. If only we had a larger team, we could dedicate more of our attention to specialized care throughout the entire medical team, not just the mental health portion I manage.
I take a deep breath, trying to stay positive.
I hope to hire one more full-time, permanent psychologist onto the team soon, since the budget has finally been approved for it. Ryan, the prison’s medical director, has also signed off on it. It’s Crawley, our warden, who is dragging this process out.
Crawley is tough, even when it comes to the way he works with his staff. I know Ryan has spoken to him about it before, and yet I still can’t officially start the hiring process.
Ryan and I are meeting with him next week about the whole situation. Ryan has stressed to Crawley the importance of giving the highest quality in-house medical treatment possible to the prisoners we see.
