In a few weeks I will be less of a ClinkShrink than I currently am. I'll still be a ClinkShrink, I'll just be doing it in fewer prisons. It feels odd to schedule my patients for followup knowing that I will no longer be there for their followup appointment. I am faced with the question of how to say goodbye to my patients, some of whom I've treated over multiple incarcerations in the last fifteen years.
Patients come in and out of my life fairly quickly. With a caseload of at least 150 patients or so, there's no way I can specifically remember each one. Often they disappear without warning, released to parole or transferred to other facilities. Sometimes I read about them in the newspapers later, either arrested or killed. That bothers me. I used to think that inmates didn't get attached to prison doctors because they move quickly through the system and see someone new at each pretrial facility. Generally though once they get into the sentenced side of the system, the prison side, this settles down and you have a chance to develop some longterm relationships. And the longer you work in the system the more inmates you get to know. Dinah thinks that when you're 'only' doing med checks the therapeutic relationship isn't important, but I can tell you it is. I'm going to miss (not all, but many) of these guys. If it matters to me, I'd be willing to bet it's going to matter to (not all, but many) of my patients.
The patients it will matter to are the ones who ask for me by name when they get arrested, the ones who insist on getting on the phone to say 'hi' when the nurse pages me for medication orders, the ones who honk and wave when they drive by me on the street, or run up to me in the recreation yard to tell me how they're doing. These are the patients who prove to me that kindness and a good rapport counts, even when you're 'only' doing med checks.
So I've been saying goodbye this week, not without a fair amount of guilt. Eventually I will be replaced but not right away, not for the full amount of time, and likely by someone with little or no correctional experience. I have sympathetic anxiety pains for the new clinician who has no clue what he's walking into, as well as for the inmate who sees the new face and has to start all over again.
But starting over is what the correctional experience is all about, for patients and sometimes also for physicians.