191 Justice or Retribution?

On Wednesday, I had to have an ultrasound scan at Milton Keynes hospital.  The ultrasound department is in the X-ray area and of all the areas in the hospital, that zone is the furthest department from the car park.  

Once I had walked the 150 yards from the car park into the hospital building, I was then faced with walking along what must be one of the longest corridors in England, if not Europe.  

I have mentioned before that it is possible that I may suffer from arithmomania (Click to see), a compulsion to count.  

The first time I visited the X-ray department at MK University Hospital, I was so surprised by the length of the corridor, that I counted my steps back.  It was 502 and even though my steps these days are shorter than they ever were because of arthritis, that has to be getting on for a quarter of a mile.

I was instructed not to eat anything nor drink any liquid but water for six hours before the ultrasound scan which was scheduled for 1 p.m.  That is the worst possible time for such a procedure as it meant that I had consumed nothing but water since eight o’clock the previous evening - 17 hours!  

With the prospect of the long, gruelling trek awaiting me, I left home too early and because I walked pain free, arrived at X-ray much too soon, at 12.25 p.m.  The waiting room was empty and the woman at reception told me that I would be the first to be seen after lunch.  I sat on one the  front row chairs of the nine empty chairs and to pass the time, started to play a game on my phone.

Twenty minutes later, I looked up to see two men with their backs to me standing side-by-side at reception.  They were deep in conversation with the receptionist. One of them, who was probably just in his twenties, looked round at me and grinned.  I was surprised and not because he had grinned at me, a stranger, but because of the odd look of his face.  If ever it is possible to detect learning difficulties by looks alone, this was such a case.  

I went back to my game and they both came to sit behind me.  I couldn’t help but overhear everything that was said.  

The young man who had grinned at me was constantly asking questions of the other.  “Are we there now?” and “What’s that lady’s name?” were two of his many queries.  It was like listening to a three-year-old nagging a parent.  The man with him never responded to any of the countless questions and then, a woman came in and sat with them.  She ignored him too.

Just after I heard him ask, “Who’s that man?” which I assume was a question to do with me, the receptionist caught my eye and beckoned me.  “I’m sorry but your appointment will be delayed.  That man has to be seen first.”

“Why?”

“He has to have priority,” was all she said.

As I walked back to my chair, I looked at the three of them properly for the first time and I was stunned.  Both the silent man and the woman were wearing heavy, dark blue jackets with silver buttons but the shocking thing was that the young, grinning man was in handcuffs and he was also shackled to the wrist of the other man.

They were two prison warders and a prisoner, almost certainly from Woodhill, a high security prison and young offender institution in Milton Keynes.

I have no idea what the prisoner had done to be in custody.  I don’t know whether he was on remand or serving a sentence; whether he was innocent or guilty or what crime he had committed but it seems blindingly obvious to me that prison is not the place where he should be.  

He clearly has huge mental problems and if incarceration is necessary, a secure hospital is surely the place for him.

With prison overcrowding at crisis point and talk of releasing all female prisoners to create space for men, there is one space that could be given to house someone who certainly understood that what he did was criminal.  I doubt that young man did.

That look on his face still haunts me.