Caring for sick, prisoners learn compassion
Once, by his own admission, Sam LeMaire was "one of the craziest individuals" at Oregon State Penitentiary. "Two words that never used to be in my life are compassion and caring," the inmate says. "I shudder to think what I used to do."
In the past 16 months, however, volunteering to care for patients in the maximum-security-prison's hospice program have made those two "c" words a daily focus.
The meaning of his work hit home shortly before his first patient - also a close friend - died. As Mr. LeMaire held his hand, Lew Miller "looked right into my eyes. It was like saying, 'Thank you for everything you did....' That's a big thing if you can help bring peace to somebody's life."
A recent development in a small number of US prisons, hospice programs are surprising many by not only easing patients' situations in their final months but also transforming the lives of inmate volunteers and affecting the milieu of prisons themselves.
"What correctional professionals are observing - and are willing to talk about - is the positive impact on their institutions," says Ira Byock, M.D., a national expert in hospice care. "Wardens and assistant wardens have told me that ... this is having a really wonderful effect."
Corrections departments began to recognize the need for hospice services in the mid-1980s, as the size of the US prison population grew, longer sentences were mandated, and the number of older inmates mushroomed. Tougher attitudes toward crime meant parole boards were less likely to give "compassionate releases" to sick inmates. More began dying inside the walls (2,500 in 1998).
The first prison hospice programs opened in 1987. Now there are about 20, with at least a dozen more being planned. Oregon State Penitentiary trained its first inmate volunteers in 1999, using the same 36-hour course community hospice workers get.