It’s not fun being unwell, especially in Winter, but it’s even worse when you’re ill inside prison. Here’s a story I wrote based on true events.
Being Ill in Prison
I am not saying that there is a good time to be sick – however, of all the things that we fear in prison, being ill rates very highly with most of us.
This is one instance when somebody that has never been to prison might be able to relate to those of us on the inside. Take a moment and think about all of the tricks and comforts that you rely on when you are unwell.
I remember hot-water bottles, hot or cold drinks (depending on the ailment), comfort foods and darkened, quiet rooms in which to cocoon myself until I was better.
I remember the pharmaceutical remedies that were usually on hand, or at worst a short trip away. There were the lotions and rubs like Savlon & Deep Heat, over the counter painkillers and remedies – Lemsip, Rennie, Gaviscon, Solpedeine, Vicks Vaporub, Zovirax and Bonjela all spring immediately to mind.
Now take all of those comforts and remedies away. Being ill in prison has often make me feel like the character in the ‘Castaway’ movie. Isolated and in extreme agony, trying to knock his bad tooth out with an ice skate.
At times it can make one empathise with the crying baby or the pet that is poorly. It can be extremely difficult and frustrating for a parent or a vet to understand what ailment is afflicting their charge. It must be more frustrating for the unwell creature that can’t explain what their ailment is.
But in prison, while we may be able to articulate the cause of our pain – all too often those who are our means of support are unable to help. Consider ‘Zovirax’ from the above list of pessaries. The advertisements for this ‘cold sore’ treatment are almost cheerful in tone. “When you feel a tingle” – simply apply Zovirax. Your Cold Sore will be gone before it even appears! How spiffingly wonderful.
One morning a fellow prisoner, we shall call him Mr Johnson, felt a tingle (on his lip) and made his way to the wing dispensary. He queued with all of the other prisoners that were collecting meds and waited for his turn.
“Hallo” said Mr Johnson to the nurse on duty, “I’m feeling a tingle on my lip – I have a Cold Sore coming.”
The prisoner was asked for his name and ID Card, which he provided. Identity established the nurse asked. “So what do you want from me?”
“I was hoping to get some lotion or cream, perhaps Zovirax, that I could use to prevent my lip from developing a Cold Sore.” said the Mr Johnson, before cheerfully adding “You know the jingle, ‘When you feel a tingle, reach for Zovirax.’” Sadly, his musical attempt at levity fell on stony ground.
The nurse replied, “The doctor will have to prescribe any medication. I can give you paracetamol or Ibuprofen.”
“Very well, can I see the Doctor then?” asked the Mr Johnson.
“You will have to fill in an app. Do you want the paracetamol?”
When the Mr Johnson answered no, he took his leave and set about finding the application he would need – a Healthcare app. He duly filled it in and submitted it to be processed. Over the rest of the day his tingling levels increased steadily, he kept those of us who were interested (and everybody else) updated on a scale from intermittent, to persistent, to mild, to irritating with stops at pulsating and distracting along the way.
When we were unlocked the following morning, like Cassandra at Troy, his prescient predictions, that had fallen on deaf ears, were evinced by the Cold Sore that was now protesting angrily from the top right corner of his lips. He returned to the meds hatch and upon reaching his turn for treatment he was delighted to see the same nurse from the previous day was on duty.
“Good Morning!” said the Mr Johnson, “As you might notice, the Cold Sore that I felt coming on yesterday has duly arrived” he made flourishes with his hands to highlight that point. “Is there now anyway that I could see the doctor in order to be issued with some cream? I can understand your inability to treat something that wasn’t evident, but hopefully you will be able to treat something that you can see. Surely you must accept that this is a Cold Sore (more flourishes) and that it needs treating.”
The nurse looked closely through the heavy gauge steel bars of the dispensary, paused, then delivered her verdict. “That is a nasty looking Cold Sore. Do you have your ID with you Mr Johnson?”
The prisoner, Mr Johnson was his name, asked “Do you really need to see my ID – considering that you have already identified me by referring to me by name?”
“I’m afraid it’s policy Mr Johnson. I can’t treat you unless I see your ID card.”
Incredulously, Mr Johnson proffered his card. Having checked the photograph and satisfied that he was the man on the ID card, the nurse continued.
“I can’t give you any cream unless it has been prescribed by the doctor. Would you like some paracetamol?”
“Thank you, no” said Mr Johnson. “Could you please tell me when I can see the Doctor? I’d really rather that this condition not get any worse. It is becoming very irritating.”
“Have you had a movement slip to see the doctor today?” Asked the nurse.
“No, I haven’t had a movement slip.” Said Mr Johnson.
“Well it won’t be today then I’m afraid. Do you want some paracetamol?”
“Thank you, no.” Mr Johnson again took his leave. This was Mr Johnson’s ground-hog day – it was the nurse’s too! The Cold Sore became as much a part of our prison clique as was Mr Johnson himself. Finally, 9 days after first feeling ‘the tingle’, Mr Johnson received a movement slip to see the doctor. By this time the Cold Sore had passed its Zenith and was receding day by day. Mr Johnson though still felt he would benefit from treatment and went to see the Doctor. He returned with mixed results.
The Doctor confirmed that it was a Cold Sore. He agreed that it was worth treating. He further agreed that applying ‘Zovirax’ would be a suitable course of action and promptly prescribed same. The doctor estimated that it would be available for collection from the meds hatch within 3 – 5 days.
After 4 more Groundhog days Mr Johnson waited his turn, presented at the hatch, verified his identity and asked if his prescription was ready to be collected. The nurse confirmed that the prescription had arrived. However, she said that she couldn’t help but notice how the Cold Sore had cleared up of its own volition and questioned whether there was still a need for the prescription – “There is no point wasting NHS money – don’t’cha know.”
“But Nurse, I have another tingle – on this side now!” Mr Johnson made flourishes towards the opposite side of his mouth. The nurse looked somewhat unconvinced, however she did issue Mr Johnson with the Zovirax. He was very happy. He had beaten the system. Next time he (or any other prisoner) felt a tingle, Mr Johnson would be able to nip that tingle in the bud! Around 6 months later that tube of Zovirax was still un-opened when he was released from prison.
