The first blog by a British prisoner. Variously described as being "obviously extremely intelligent" (Michael Gove), "the most interesting interview I have ever done" (Michael Portillo), and a "fully paid up member of the awkward squad" (Parole Board), I try to generate debate around the moral and political nexus that is imprisonment. Imprisoned between ages 14 to 47, released on Licence in August 2012
After much waiting, an appointment arrives and I present myself to the Healthcare Centre (ho ho ho...). The first words out of the Doctors mouth were to remind me that I was only permitted to raise one medical problem per appointment.
This poses a dilemma. Not being a medical chap, how am I - any of us - meant to judge which out of several problems was the most serious? Is that not the point of medical training...? In an attempt to avoid an arsey retort, I offered her the choice - chest pains, or my extremely painful left arm and shoulder.
She went for the chest pain, wired me for an ECG, checked cholesterol, is testing for diabetes, and so on. All very thorough and hardly standard practice for a prison Doctor. My arm even got a look-in, only to be met with the standard prison Lazarus mixture, paracetamol and ibuprofen.
Only depression and my crumbling back left to go. Shouldn't take more than a few weeks for that appointment...
Oh, I knew there was a point to this. We are meant to receive broadly equivalent healthcare from the NHS as we would outside. Does anybody's GP insist that they only mention one problem per appointment?
Any day that involves being knocked out and ending up naked with your arse in the air can't be good!
My irritation button was pushed when our Healthcare told me that I was off outside for another biopsy. The nurse called me "Gunn", not Mr Gunn. A small thing, I know, but it gets my goat when NHS staff who work in a prison pick up nasty habits and attitudes from prison staff. They begin to treat us as prisoners rather than patients.
The day only got worse when I arrived in hospital to be told that I was getting a general anaesthetic. It was a surprise, because the prison healthcare had hijacked the letter from the hospital and not bothered to tell me the details.
And in the hospital, I was interested to discover that they called me Mr, even having a form to detail how I prefer to be addressed. I went with Ben, obviously.
NHS staff working in prison take note - we have a whole institution to talk to us as prisoners rather than people. You can feel free to treat us as patients first.
Not officially an oxymoron, but a conjunction of words guaranteed to make any prisoner raise an eyebrow. Healthcare provision in prisons has always been a point of contention.
The official stance accords with my own desire: that the healthcare provision should be broadly equivalent to that offered in the community. As with all things penological, however, the official version and the facts on the ground don't quite match.
Politically, this gap was recently revealed during the course of a legal challenge when the Ministry of Justice was forced to reveal that it had a secret policy. This was to the effect that, regardless of the medical opinion, elective procedures for prisoners had to pass a 'public acceptability' test. This is truly repugnant and that the MoJ kept this secret revealed that they must have understood the legal and moral unacceptability of such a criterion. Getting medical treatment on the basis of public popularity reveals the disgusting depths to which criminal justice policy has sunk.
Lofty legal, moral and political principles aside, what concerns most prisoners is the treatment they receive for their ailment from the NHS staff who now provide our healthcare. Three recent (and ongoing) events here highlight the level of that care.
Firstly, a prisoner is alleged to have been slapped round the head by a nurse. No big deal, you may think. But Healthcare is plastered with notices stating that NHS staff must not be abused or assaulted and such actions will be met with a stern response. So what would the reaction be if a lifer slapped a nurse? All the middle management who have been saying that “it was just a slap” would be at the front of the queue to have the con thrown into solitary and write long reports harping on as to his propensity for violence and unsuitability for release.
As it is, the attitude of the prison has been, 'it's nothing to do with us'. That we are in their care, that the place is wallpapered with policies about bullying and violence reduction, all means nought. It seems that NHS staff are perfectly able to enter a prison, assault any passing prisoner, and the prison staff won't raise an eyebrow. I'm assuming the same privilege doesn't apply in reverse?
Secondly, the man in severe and acute pain who was fobbed off with paracetamol for days. Until he suddenly had to be rushed out to hospital with what we now believe to be a life-threatening illness.
Thirdly, a man who is alleged to have over-used his painkillers to the tune of two - count 'em - two whole pills. He has been on these painkillers for 4 years but in the space of a week the Doctor has cut his dose by three-quarters. Seeing as his underlying medical condition hasn't changed, this raises an interesting question. Was he being massively over-prescribed these opiates for 4 years? Or is he suddenly being massively under-prescribed now? It's one or the other, and neither makes the medical staff look good.
There are countless stories that illustrate the reality of medical care in prisons. These are just three random stories from a single week, from one of the smallest nicks in the country.
The key to understanding these issues (failings) is the attitudes of the NHS staff. Simply put, they have been 'captured’ by the prison. Rather than importing a medical ethos into prison, they have been indoctrinated with the attitudes of prison staff. In their eyes we are not patients, we are prisoners first and foremost. By definition, we are said to be devious, manipulative and generally scheming bastards. If we present ourselves to Healthcare with a set of symptoms that outside would see the Doc reach for his prescription pad, here it is assumed that we are lying and get fobbed off with paracetamol.
Perhaps even worse is the fact that our treatment is dictated by the needs of prison management. As
is commonly known, prisons are full of drug abusers and we are regularly urine tested for drug
use. The NHS staff are quietly pressured by the prison to reduce the levels of prescribed drugs in
order to reduce positive tests. This would only be good practice, but for the fact that this leaves
people in serious pain from their illnesses.
This may go some way to explain why, even though the NHS has taken over our healthcare provision, prisoners are widely dissatisfied with the medical services. It also explains why, for many prisoners, their worst nightmare is to get a serious illness whilst in prison.
Previously known as "one of Britain's best known prisoners...he constantly questions authority and exposes the futility of the system" The Times, Ben was finally released from prison after 32 years in August 2012.
Pleading guilty to the murder of a friend when he was 14 years old, he renounced violence and fought for the recognition of the inherent dignity of all human beings.
As a result of speaking truth to power, he served far longer than the recommended 10 years, leading Education Secretary Michael Gove to argue that he had "been punished excessively for a crime committed as a child".
One of the more intellectual of prisoner-campaigners, Ben chose to educate himself from schoolboy level to having both undergraduate and post graduate degrees. He is currently one of very few prisoners in Britain ever to attempt a Doctorate. Ben's speciality is non-violent action and the Human Needs Theory.
Now on Life Licence, He is forging a career as a CJ policy consultant, writer and - as ever - campaigner.
