My Side of the Bars

By Cleo Dunnit

Cleo Dunnit is a Forensic Psychiatric Nurse in a maximum security prison for males in New York State. The book is from a nurses perspective and Cleos opinions. It reveals the criminal mind at work in all its manipulations, selfishness, and lack of remorse. It reveals how the manipulative behavior of the inmates is condoned versus being corrected. It reveals the bureaucratic incompetence of the state system. It shows the lack of rehabilitation and how the system actually sets up anyone release from prison for failure. It shows that although there are many hard working dedicated employees, there are also incompetent and inept persons whom are never held accountable or fired. They are just transferred to another facility. It shows how in the over all picture our present prison system in New York State puts staff, inmates, and ultimately society itself in danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 7, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462804153

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Copyright © 2008 by Cleo Dunnit.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

INTRODUCTION

JOURNAL OF A FORENSIC NURSE

FINAL THOUGHTS

INTRODUCTION

It has been suggested to me, more than once, that I write an introduction, something that will give the reader an idea of who I am. I know it is a good idea; it is probably a better idea that I give you an idea of who I am than leaving it to your imagination. If your imagination is anything like mine, that is a scary visual. So although I thought it was a good idea, I kept procrastinating. Finally I started to explore why I was procrastinating. I realized to tell you about myself would leave me vulnerable.

Then I got thinking, Why am I afraid of being vulnerable? I’m not a bad person; I’m not mean to old ladies, and I don’t kick dogs. Then I realized the only people I would be vulnerable to would be the people I really don’t care about anyway. The people who don’t know me are going to form their own opinion. Some will like me, and some will not, just as I will not like everyone that I meet . . . That is just the way it is, so I finally came to terms with this, and if, when reading this book, you choose to judge me, fine, that is your choice. If you decide you like me, great; if not, please keep it to yourself.

I have three brothers and no sisters. I am the youngest. All my life I have heard the youngest is always spoiled. Well I’m still waiting to be spoiled. I grew up poor in a pretty rough neighborhood. I was a tomboy, but with three older brothers and no sisters, what else did you expect? Growing up poor has its benefits. Growing up in a rough neighborhood has even more benefits. Through both you have to be a survivor. You also learn how hard it is to get out of poverty. Many people get sucked into living off the government. They hang out talking about what they are going to do but never getting off their butts to it. That is the easy way out. They keep blaming everybody and everything else for their situation. It’s harder to accept responsibility for your own life and then go for it.

After high school I went to LPN school. I always wanted to be a nurse. I don’t know why, I just did. Halfway through the program I got sick and required emergency surgery. I couldn’t finish the course and would have had to reapply following year. That wouldn’t fit into my plans because I had no money. And I already decided I wanted to go straight for my RN degree. Therefore I got a job as a secretary. Two very important realities became loud and clear to me with this job. First, I realized I was not going to save money for RN school on $75.00 a week before taxes, and second, I really hated the job. I have nothing against secretaries. The job was not for me. I hated being chained to one spot, but it motivated me to find a way to get an education. There is nothing harder than to get up and go to a job you hate every day plus do a good job while you are there.

So I came up with a new plan. I joined the army. The only problem with the plan was they changed the GI Bill, and I didn’t find out until after I signed the papers and swore in. Oh the government did offer a plan for tuition. I just didn’t think it was worth the paper it was printed on. It was a mute point by then. I signed the papers, and nobody twisted my arm. So in August of 1977, after just turning twenty years old the month before, I went into the army.

What can I say about my time in the army? More accurately, what am I willing to reveal about my time in the army? I thought long and hard on this and procrastinated for more then a fair amount of time. Finally I decided enough was enough.

Regarding the army, for the people I met, the things I did, saw, and learned, I wouldn’t trade it for the world, As far as Uncle Sam, is concerned, well let’s just say he is an uncle I don’t readily admit to. I learned I only thought I knew what sexual harassment was. After I finished basic training and my AIT (Advanced Individual Training), the army in its infinite wisdom decided to see how women would do in a field unit. They took five of us female medics (Private E nothings) and put us in a cavalry unit with 2,500 tankers. Remember this was 1977. My first commanding officer told us women have no use in the military. We should all remain home barefoot and pregnant. He then took us to our unsuspecting platoon sergeant. This poor guy had no idea he was getting replacements, let alone female replacements. I still remember what my commanding officer told our platoon sergeant. He said, Here, you got five fu—king female bitches. I don’t want the f—king bitches. They are yours. Then he turned and left. Obviously, he was not a warm and fuzzy person. From that day on, I learned to really dislike him. He took sexual harassment and discrimination to levels I couldn’t imagine. Fortunately, later when he was transferred, things improved. Our new commanding officer treated everybody the same. He was a good officer.

During my time in the cavalry unit, I drove a tank, fired a tank, and learned when the wind chill is minus sixty degrees, there is no such thing as getting warm.

I went into the army in perfect health. I came out of it wearing sunglasses and a screwed-up knee that kept rotting away. Would I do it again knowing what I do today? I don’t know.

That is all I am willing to reveal on paper about the army. It was when I got out of the army that I went into nursing school. I worked on an ambulance while going to school. I went to school during the day, worked four to twelve on the ambulance, and pulled call duty three nights a week. I promised myself I would sleep when I graduated and one day I am going to keep that promise.

In 1984 I graduated from nursing school. In July of that year, I passed my RN exam. It was a long hard scenic route to my goal, but the end point was that much sweeter.

My first nursing job was on a telemetry unit. Back then we called it Cardiac Step Down Unit. When I no longer felt challenged there, I went to work in Bellevue’s emergency room. That was a terrific experience, and I worked with some terrific people. Two years of that and I needed a break. I was getting burned out. I took a job doing research. It was fun while setting up the study, but after that, I found it boring. I wasn’t being challenged. During that time, I did per diem in another emergency room. I loved the challenge of the emergency room and went back to it full-time. I took a job as head nurse on nights at an emergency room in the Bronx. I loved working the night because I am not a morning person. I don’t think the day should legally start before 6:00 PM. Around 1989, I switched to home health (visiting nurse); the emergency room was taking its toll on my knee.

I did visiting nurse for Montifiore Home Health. I worked in the south Bronx and wouldn’t use an escort. I enjoyed it. Once I went to see a patient in a nonescort area, and someone tried to mug me. I broke his nose and put his right testicle where his tonsils belong.

In 1992 I moved to the Boonies. I mean you need a map and a compass to find it. I took a job doing home health for a local hospital. I worked up to the position of supervisor and worked for them for six and a half years. All my evaluations were excellent. Suddenly we got a new director. The next thing I knew I was out of a job, and two days later her friend is in my position. Obviously, I do not have a good opinion of that hospital or the people involved. However, I will not lower myself to their level. I can still look at myself in the morning. I doubt they can. I am a firm believer in what goes around comes around. Their day will come, and I just hope I’m around to see it come.

I went back to the emergency room. Although I loved it, my knee hated it. Then my parents began having health issues, so I went back to doing visiting nurse in the South Bronx three days a week. While doing this, I stayed at my parents and took care of them. While there, I was relegated to an inflatable mattress on the living room floor. But you do what you have to do. During this time my knee just kept getting worse and worse. If I stood on my right leg, I was 5'10. If I stood on my left leg, I was 5'7.

In 2000, I had a knee replacement. I think my knee replacement is a wonderful gift that I use to its fullest every day. I switched job again in 2001. My parents were doing better, and I was offered a position closer to home. I became the health wellness manager at a Job Corps center.

When I took that position, the Health Service Department was a disaster. I liked my job, and I think the Job Corps program is terrific. I liked the kids, but the program’s effectiveness all depends on the private company running the center. I did that job for five years. We had gotten a new contractor in, and I have nothing nice to say about that particular company. It is my personal opinion—they were just using the center as a tax write-off.

During my five years there, I went through eight different bosses. My boss was the center director. The last one was, in my opinion, in need of medication. He was inappropriate, unethical, and a legend in his own mind. I blame the corporate office and the regional Department of Labor (they run Job Corps) even more than this man for the havoc he caused. They knew of his inappropriate and unethical antics and willingly chose to ignore it. If you do not address the behavior, you obviously condone it. For their behavior, I have absolutely no respect for any of them as people. Don’t get me wrong, I met and worked with a lot of terrific and dedicated people in Job Corps. They just don’t happen to include the ones I mentioned.

To work for Job Corps, you have to be dedicated because the pay is so poor. Sometimes you get what you pay for. This was true regarding the nurses and secretary I worked with for about the last year and a half I worked there. Individually, these three nurses and one secretary all had some good qualities; put them together and they were toxic. They were the most unprofessional, unethical, and lazy group I have ever seen. They were all so terribly dysfunctional that they fed off of one another. I found them to be a constant petty annoyance. At one point in time, I had respect for them. However, while working with them, I lost all respect for them as employees and people.

I know that if they should ever read this, they will just rant and rave and will readily trash me as they trash everybody including each other when one of them is not there. I can picture their reactions in my mind, and it makes me chuckle. It makes me chuckle simply because they really are clueless of their behavior. However, they are out of my life now, and I like it that way. I do not wish anything bad on any of them. I just choose not to have people like them in my life. My only mistake with them was attempting to treat them as adults and professionals.

After Job Corps, I went to work in the prison. The money was much better. I also felt, Why not? I had done just about all other areas of nursing; I thought it might be interesting to study the criminal mind. The human mind has always fascinated me. I believe nothing is impossible for the human mind. As a people, we are just beginning to explore and learn the brain’s potential.

Now you have some idea of who I am and my background, or at least what I am willing to share on paper. Besides, this is a journal about where I work. It is not a bare-my-soul book.

I have changed all the names in this book to protect the guilty. I have changed the facts just enough to call it fiction. Not only am I protecting the guilty, I do not want a family member of an inmate or victim of the guilty to recognize a crime or person. It is not my intent to open old wounds. In addition, I am protecting myself from lawsuits.

Please keep in mind, this journal was written through my perceptions. However, isn’t our perception our reality?

On that note I hope you enjoy the book. I hope it angers you about our present prison system. I also hope parts make you laugh. Because life without laughter just isn’t worth it.

JOURNAL OF A FORENSIC NURSE

December 8, 2006

I started at Sullivan Correctional Facility on October 5, 2006. My official title is Forensic Psychiatric Nurse. This is the first time I am working solely in the psych specialty.

It takes me an hour to drive to work, and during the drive I do the same things as other commuters do, or at least I think they do. I listen to the radio, maybe mutter about some slowpoke I’m stuck behind, and watch for cops so I don’t get a ticket I can’t afford! I’m just as vigilantly looking for deer.

It is not until I am climbing the big hill up to the prison that I prepare myself. The prison sits high up on a hill. You can’t see it until you are at the top.

The building has an oppressive appearance; it sits very square and spread out, the perfect institution. The high fences topped with razor wire add to the somber ambiance. I pull into the parking lot that sits in the front and say a prayer for myself to keep me safe, prevent me from absorbing any of the negativity in the prison, and help me find a few words that might help the staff or inmates.

You first enter a small reception building and show your ID at the entrance. On any given day, you will see family members waiting for visits with inmates. They are of all ages and varying moods. Sometimes you see little kids playing, oblivious to where they are. It amazes me how adaptable children are. Which is usually a good thing, but every now and then I am disturbed when I hear a little child say in their innocent way, Is your daddy in jail too? I don’t think any child should be so comfortable in a prison; it shouldn’t be a part of anyone’s life.

Some of the visitors act as comfortable as if they were just having a day out with friends, other than children this group disturbs me the most. They are usually young, around their early twenties, and it seems that it is the most natural thing in the world to visit someone in a maximum-security prison.

Other times the visitors won’t look you in the eye, and they appear embarrassed to be there. These usually are the older people who appear to be parents of the inmates. Others just sit there with a blank look on their faces, trying to be invisible. Some of the visitors act as comfortable as if they were just having a day out with friends; and other than the children, this is the group that disturbs me the most.

Once you show your ID, you go through the metal sliding doors. The CO in the control panel opens and closes them for you. The next door is not opened until the one before is closed. From