Your browser window currently does not have enough height, or is zoomed in too far to view our website content correctly. Once the window reaches the minimum required height or zoom percentage, the content will display automatically.
Alternatively, you can learn more via the links below.
Imagine being a prisoner of your own body. Unable to sit, stand or walk, looking down at your useless abs, legs and feet as you lie motionless for months. Because the experts can’t find a cause, they tell you ‘it's all in your head’ as paralysis takes over your arms, bladder, bowel and breathing. All the while, no one can visit you (COVID), and your partner of 20 years takes or sells everything you shared, leaving you paralysed, hospitalised, homeless, single and stranded.
Seven months after walking into hospital, you wheel yourself out to end up back there again a year later, with not only your body holding you prisoner, but also the state. Waking up in the ICU handcuffed to a bed surrounded by machines, you are still wondering why your body is covered in stitches and staples when a police officer strides in to lay down a charge for a crime you don’t know you've committed. Still in delirium, you think it must be a dream… but no, it’s not. Welcome to my nightmare.
Hi, I’m Mark. A paraplegic 52 year old father of four that finds himself incarcerated for the first time as I await to hear my fate, remanded (12 months and counting) at an acute care unit in a Victorian prison.
Experienced inmates reckon I’m in the worst part of the worst prison in the system, and wonder how I haven’t gone crazy with boredom, but thanks to chronic nerve pain I never have a dull moment.
I suppose the small concrete yard, limited run out time and no access to the gym, chapel or library makes this place suck harder than most, but I wouldn't know any different, and my physicality makes activity a difficulty anyway. That being said, I can’t really complain about how I’ve been treated… or the food. The salads are consistently top notch and the soup’s sublime. Well done lads, your work brings a smile to my dial every time. Whilst I’m at it, the care and professionalism of the nursing staff definitely rates a mention.
There are far worse places for a crook to get crook.
After the initial shock and post traumatic stress of my situation subsided, I opened myself up to make the most of what this experience has to offer. Prison has freed me from the slavery of money, or the expectations of friends and family. My only obligation now is to serve time itself, and although I don’t know yet how long I’m required to do that for, I choose not to waste time feeling depressed, lonely or in the past… dwelling on what might have been. Much easier said than done, but the passing of time and culling of some contacts has helped make the FOMO fade away.
Fortunately, I had contacts outside that cared for me. The first inmate I met was doing it hard as he had no one. He was an Iranian national that broke both his legs from flying off an apartment building to avoid being mauled by a police dog.
Imagine being a prisoner of your own body. Unable to sit, stand or walk, looking down at your useless abs, legs and feet as you lie motionless for months. Because the experts can’t find a cause, they tell you ‘it's all in your head’ as paralysis takes over your arms, bladder, bowel and breathing. All the while, no one can visit you (COVID), and your partner of 20 years takes or sells everything you shared, leaving you paralysed, hospitalised, homeless, single and stranded.
Seven months after walking into hospital, you wheel yourself out to end up back there again a year later, with not only your body holding you prisoner, but also the state. Waking up in the ICU handcuffed to a bed surrounded by machines, you are still wondering why your body is covered in stitches and staples when a police officer strides in to lay down a charge for a crime you don’t know you've committed. Still in delirium, you think it must be a dream… but no, it’s not. Welcome to my nightmare.
Hi, I’m Mark. A paraplegic 52 year old father of four that finds himself incarcerated for the first time as I await to hear my fate, remanded (12 months and counting) at an acute care unit in a Victorian prison.
Experienced inmates reckon I’m in the worst part of the worst prison in the system, and wonder how I haven’t gone crazy with boredom, but thanks to chronic nerve pain I never have a dull moment.
I suppose the small concrete yard, limited run out time and no access to the gym, chapel or library makes this place suck harder than most, but I wouldn't know any different, and my physicality makes activity a difficulty anyway. That being said, I can’t really complain about how I’ve been treated… or the food. The salads are consistently top notch and the soup’s sublime. Well done lads, your work brings a smile to my dial every time. Whilst I’m at it, the care and professionalism of the nursing staff definitely rates a mention.
There are far worse places for a crook to get crook.
After the initial shock and post traumatic stress of my situation subsided, I opened myself up to make the most of what this experience has to offer. Prison has freed me from the slavery of money, or the expectations of friends and family. My only obligation now is to serve time itself, and although I don’t know yet how long I’m required to do that for, I choose not to waste time feeling depressed, lonely or in the past… dwelling on what might have been. Much easier said than done, but the passing of time and culling of some contacts has helped make the FOMO fade away.
Fortunately, I had contacts outside that cared for me. The first inmate I met was doing it hard as he had no one. He was an Iranian national that broke both his legs from flying off an apartment building to avoid being mauled by a police dog.
The horror stories he told me about Iranian prisons, boat people and detention centres helped to remind me of the fact that no matter how bad you think you've got it, there is always someone worse off than you. To him, deportation to Iran is a fate far worse than prison in Australia. My fascination with his tales led me to write his story, the first of dozens that I have collected so far from the many colourful characters that I share space with.
In the ward here I’ve spent much time with men battling ailments, injuries and cancer. When I add in their health story to their life story, peppered with ‘doing time’ and crime tales, I get a cache of content to process that inspires me to write it down.
It is an honour and a privilege to receive these heartfelt gifts from the gab because when you look at it, all that we really own is the one thing that can never be taken away from us… our story.
I’ve got to admit, writing this one has been more difficult to knock out than other stories about my inmates, but I deeply appreciate and celebrate About Time for giving me an excuse to do so.
Big shout out to my interviewees and of course to you, dear reader, for letting my words into your mind. Don’t forget the moral of the story… whenever you catch yourself thinking ‘fuck my life’, just remember there is always, ALWAYS someone worse off than you, and simply sparing a thought for them can pull your head out of any funk you’re in (oh, and if you can’t find anyone… simply watch the 6 o'clock news for a daily dose of dilemmas to dive into!)
Cheers!
Mark
The horror stories he told me about Iranian prisons, boat people and detention centres helped to remind me of the fact that no matter how bad you think you've got it, there is always someone worse off than you. To him, deportation to Iran is a fate far worse than prison in Australia. My fascination with his tales led me to write his story, the first of dozens that I have collected so far from the many colourful characters that I share space with.
In the ward here I’ve spent much time with men battling ailments, injuries and cancer. When I add in their health story to their life story, peppered with ‘doing time’ and crime tales, I get a cache of content to process that inspires me to write it down.
It is an honour and a privilege to receive these heartfelt gifts from the gab because when you look at it, all that we really own is the one thing that can never be taken away from us… our story.
I’ve got to admit, writing this one has been more difficult to knock out than other stories about my inmates, but I deeply appreciate and celebrate About Time for giving me an excuse to do so.
Big shout out to my interviewees and of course to you, dear reader, for letting my words into your mind. Don’t forget the moral of the story… whenever you catch yourself thinking ‘fuck my life’, just remember there is always, ALWAYS someone worse off than you, and simply sparing a thought for them can pull your head out of any funk you’re in (oh, and if you can’t find anyone… simply watch the 6 o'clock news for a daily dose of dilemmas to dive into!)
Cheers!
Mark
Elections never bring anything good for people engaged in the system.
The thought of spending any time in close contact with Jonny sets my heart racing – and not in a good way.
Each court attendance made me feel sick to my stomach with nervousness as rich strangers decided my husband’s fate – and our future.
Education is not regarded as the most significant risk factor for reoffending but there is an undeniable link between a lack of education and crime.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
Leave a Comment
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Suspendisse varius enim in eros elementum tristique. Duis cursus, mi quis viverra ornare, eros dolor interdum nulla, ut commodo diam libero vitae erat. Aenean faucibus nibh et justo cursus id rutrum lorem imperdiet. Nunc ut sem vitae risus tristique posuere. uis cursus, mi quis viverra ornare, eros dolor interdum nulla, ut commodo diam libero vitae erat. Aenean faucibus nibh et justo cursus id rutrum lorem imperdiet. Nunc ut sem vitae risus tristique posuere.