I met Bush over two decades ago at a prison in Raiford, Florida. I had just turned thirty and only been in prison a few years. Bush, on the other hand, was over fifty and had been in prison since the early 80’s. He quickly became a mentor, teaching me how to make it through a violent prison system. Simply – he taught me how to act. Bush had already spent over twenty years at Raiford, he was grounded and knew how to stay out of trouble.
I left that prison in 2005 and hadn’t seen Bush in almost twenty years when, by chance, I had to go to a prison hospital to see a medical specialist. While there, I ran into an acquaintance, Harley, who told me Bush was at the hospital. Bush had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was expected to die at any time. The man I had always known to be large, muscular and healthy was virtually on his deathbed.
I asked an officer the following day if I could go upstairs and visit Bush, but my request was denied. I didn’t give up. The next day I snuck down to where the inmate orderlies lived. The orderlies wore white uniforms while everyone else wore blue. I ‘rented’ a uniform.
The following day, during the orderly shift change, I went to the hospital and blended in. Once on the second floor, I found Bush lying in a hospital bed and fighting for his life. He wasn’t easy to recognize at first, housed in a room with six terminally ill men. After someone pointed him out to me, it took all I had in me to keep from crying right then and there.
Bush was awake and looked at me for a minute before he recognized me and smiled. Thinking I worked there, my old friend asked how in the world I’d pulled off getting a position as an orderly. He’d always had a good sense of humor. He smiled even more when I told him that I hadn’t pulled off getting the position, I’d only tricked them into thinking I’d gotten the position.
We chatted for a bit, caught up on our lives. Bush told me about his cancer and the treatments he had gone through to no avail. Then he got very serious and shared with me that he was ready to depart this world, he’d lived long enough in prison. After those words, I had to step away to keep from crying in front of Bush. Prison life can be lonely, no matter how many friends and people we have around us. I couldn’t imagine how lonely one could feel at the end of life in a hospital bed and having no friends or family around to say goodbye to.
I told Bush he wasn’t alone. Along with Harley and others he knew, we would be with him all the way. I told him what he meant to me and others. I visited Bush everyday while I was at the medical prison. I brought snacks from the canteen and anything else he wanted until I had to go back to my prison.
I learned later that Bush died three days after I left. I said a prayer, hoping he never felt alone as he faded from this world to the next. Ever since that experience, I have been trying to get a job as an orderly in a prison infirmary. I never want any of my fellow prisoners to feel they are alone. I want them to know that someone is there and actually cares for them.
ABOUT THE WRITER. Robert King is new to WITS, as well as creative writing. This first piece was written with heart and reflects the humanity, empathy and compassion that we value. I hope to hear from Mr. King again, and he can be contacted at:
Robert King #J04029
Lake Correctional Institution
PO Box 23608
Tampa, FL 33623
