Scenes of Prison
21. Addiction
I met an inmate named Earl when I was assigned to the general population unit where he lived. Although he didn’t intend to do so, one day he taught me and my fellow caseworkers a lesson about addiction. It was a lesson I never forgot.
Earl was fairly tall and mentally challenged. He had a buzz cut of thinning blond hair. He was in his mid-fifties, and he was very heavy. He was a big man, but he was too old to be so heavy. His obesity was going to give him some dreadful health complications. He could become diabetic or his arteries could clog up and give him a heart attack. He could get fatty liver disease or congestive heart failure. His weight was going to kill him, but he didn’t worry about his weight or his health, so we worried about it for him.
Earl wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone, inmates or staff. He didn’t stop to chat if he wasn’t busy. He always seemed to have something on his mind, but we didn’t know what it might be. Looking back on Earl, I believe he was always thinking about food.
Earl lived in a section of a unit that offered some protection from the general population for mentally challenged inmates. Our prison architecture allowed us to create small, homogeneous groupings, and the group-living setting where Earl found himself had other mentally challenged inmates living nearby.
One day, we caseworkers decided that we could help Earl lose some weight. We brought it up to him, and we tried to interest him in going on a diet, but Earl merely looked confused when we talked about diets, restricting his food, and him losing weight. He didn’t care about losing weight, and he definitely wasn’t on board to reduce his intake of food.
It didn’t matter.
We could control the amount of food Earl ate, so we could help him lose weight whether he wanted to or not.
At least, we thought we could.
At this time, our pantries were dining rooms where people ate meals. Food was delivered to the units on rolling hot carts, and we placed long, rectangular pans of hot cooked food into steam tables we maintained on our Unit.
An inmate kitchen worker served the food onto trays. The inmates lined up at the food cart, took their trays, found seats at tables in the pantry, and ate their food.
One of the rules in the Inmate Code of Offenses forbids inmates from giving or loaning anything of value to another inmate. This rule protects inmates from theft. If one inmate’s property is found in another inmate’s room, then both inmates can be charged with passing and receiving, a rule violation. The excuse that the item was loaned or given would not work. We decided that for Earl, food fell into this category. Inmates would not be allowed to give Earl food. It would be a new application of an existing rule, just for Earl.
In the past, it had been common for Earl to stroll from the food cart to his seat after receiving his tray and pause at tables as he went by. When he paused, inmates would take food from their own trays and give it to Earl. They loaded items onto his tray as he waited. Presumably, this was food they didn’t want. The inmates weren’t going to eat it, so it was destined for the garbage. At least, that’s what we were supposed to believe. We really didn’t know.
Perhaps the other inmates gave Earl food because they feared refusing him. Perhaps they recognized Earl’s obsession with food, took pity on him, and gave their food to him. It didn’t matter.
We decided that we could take control of this. We would remind inmates that giving away food was a violation of the passing and receiving rule, and we would enforce this rule when inmates tried to give food to Earl at mealtimes. If we kept close watch, Earl would reduce his food intake and start to lose weight.
Our resolve and Earl’s like-it-or-not diet lasted about five minutes.
On the first day of Earl’s new diet, the noon meal included Salisbury steak. This is not a premium cut of meat. It is so tough and full of gristle that it has to be repeatedly pounded with a steel-toothed mallet to soften it up and make it possible to eat. A typical Salisbury steak was about the same size as a pork chop, and our kitchen staff breaded it and either baked it or fried it in oil. It’s not pleasant to eat, but Earl wasn’t particular. It was food, and food was his addiction. He had to have it. Today and every day.
As was his custom, Earl strolled from the food cart after picking up his meal and paused at a few of the tables. On this day, however, we were watching, and when an extra Salisbury steak landed on his tray, we moved in to remove it.
That’s when we discovered how fast a big man can move, and how desperate an addict can be when he is about to be deprived of the object of his obsession. Earl moved quickly away from us and stuffed an entire Salisbury steak into his mouth. Without even trying to chew it, he tried to swallow it whole!
That wasn’t going to work. The steak stuck solidly in his throat.
Suddenly, our efforts to help Earl lose a little weight became life-saving efforts to save the life of a choking man, a very large choking man. A very large choking man who was struggling to breathe because of us! Because of a diet we imposed upon him against his will.
No one’s arms were long enough to get all the way around Earl’s belly, so we were no help. We summoned our Emergency Response Team.
When the ERTs arrived, a blur of frenzied activity dislodged the solid, grisstily Salisbury steak from Earl’s throat. They saved his life. Earl didn’t die. The Salisbury steak didn’t kill him.
Earl’s diet was quickly forgotten, and Earl resumed his normal routines including his stroll through the pantry at mealtime collecting extra food. Meanwhile, we caseworkers learned a valuable lesson.
Addiction has a powerful force over its victims. It is a formidable opponent, both for the one suffering an addiction and for others who want to help someone overcome it.
Treating addiction was not part of our job description. It was out of our pay grade. We could help, but we weren't the experts. There were no more diets imposed upon unwilling inmates by well-meaning but unprepared and unlearned caseworkers, at least not while I was there.
Discussion
- Describe an experience you have had with addiction, either your own, or someone else’s.
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