National Nurses United

Prisons:3 6/7/07 2:57 PM Page 10 Many days, it's all Joey Upland can do to keep herself from abandoning her 33-year career as a correctional nurse. How and why do RNs like her stay committed to fixing the healthcare system from within prison walls, and what do radical reforms under way now mean for inmate care in California? INSIDE JOB J oey upland is sitting in her home office reviewing a video on the MSNBC website that made headlines across America. The registered nurse says it explains everything about what's wrong with correctional nursing. The clip shows a young man in a juvenile offender boot camp slumped near a chain-link fence, surrounded by correctional officers. According to reports, the boy has told them he can't breathe, but the officers think he is faking. Nearby, a woman in a white coat who appears to be medical personnel stands with her hands on her hips, as ineffectual as a rag doll. The officers dominate the scene, pinning the boy to the ground. The boy falls limp. The woman in the white coat steps forward to check his heart just once before his final collapse. Later, the boy will die. "Now why, why does she do that?" Upland asks, her voice rising as she watches the grainy surveillance tape that caught the action. "The only thing she ever does is listen to his heartbeat," she says. "But she stands by because custody comes first, and that's how she's been trained. In situations, even life and death ones, custody rules over care." As a nurse who prioritizes patient care, it's a conflict in the system that Upland has struggled against her entire career, but which has bound her in as well. One recent Saturday afternoon, Upland is getting ready for work. She is 52 years old, with a round face, kind eyes, and an occasional sudden smile that erupts from a face too often beset with worry. She wears goldrimmed glasses and short honey-colored hair. She's put on her scrubs: the 10 REGISTERED NURSE W W W. C A L N U R S E S . O R G AP PHOTO/RICH PEDRONCELLI By Erin FitzGerald

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