Life, Death, & a DNR
What it means to sign a DNR from inside.
By Michael Jorgensen
When Death comes knocking on life's door, will you give in, tap out, and let Death take you? Or, will you fight for life by keeping that door closed?
For many who are incarcerated, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot to look forward to. Life inside consists of pain and suffering, day in and day out. From insufficient food and undrinkable water to lack of contact with the outside world and the lowest allotments of healthcare, the quality of life is below acceptable levels for a developing nation, let alone America.
Is this blind injustice, or have we, as a nation, become content and complacent about the inhumane treatment of our incarcerated citizens? As an inmate, I can attest that I am not content and that the inhumanity behind these walls must cease. But I retain hope for a better tomorrow. I cherish life and the preservation of it.
Even if these horrible conditions got worse, I could never give up and relinquish my right to live through a do-not-resuscitate order (DNR). A DNR is an advance directive that prevents medical personnel from attempting to revive a patient through any life-saving techniques or procedures, now or in the future.
While I may regard life as precious no matter what, I also have an out date. For other inmates, however, a life sentence is a death sentence. So is a DNR a way to speed up the process? To me, it seems like this is a silent surrender from life and the possibility of a future before resuscitation is needed. Are people who opt into a DNR throwing in the proverbial towel?
Four guys I interact with daily admitted to me that they willingly placed a DNR on their file. Each of them has a de facto life sentence. To understand further, I interviewed my cellmate, Anthony Ehlers, who agreed to tell me about his decision to sign a DNR 20 years ago.
Ehlers, a recent bachelor's graduate from the Northwestern Prison Education Program (NPEP), has been incarcerated for 32 years for a murder-robbery charge. He was initially sentenced to death and spent nine years on Death Row before his sentence was commuted to life without parole in 2001.
I assumed that Ehlers's choice for a DNR was based on hopelessness and his life sentence, especially after Ehlers said that he would remove his DNR if he got out of prison within the next couple of years.
I wanted to know more about how he came to this decision, which is almost always reserved for people with fatal medical issues and for those who are entering hospice for end-of-life care. But Ehlers told me he's healthy, has no physical medical concerns, and is only 52. Why doesn’t he want to be brought back to life?
"It's about the quality of life and living conditions,” Ehlers said. “[It’s not about] giving up." Ehlers tells me, "I've worked in healthcare [at Stateville] and interacted with hospice patients on a regular basis, seeing how no one helps, the unsanitary sights and smells, the lack of hygiene, cockroaches crawling over blind guys." Ehlers tells me he couldn’t live like that if he came back from a severe medical event and couldn’t care for himself because no one would help him. Healthcare in prison is understaffed, underfunded, and overstressed.
Coming back to this place in any form is a nonstarter for Ehlers, and he is not alone. Many individuals who have life sentences also have a DNR on file.
Some might question with the link I've drawn between DNRs and life sentences. Because of medical privacy laws, I couldn't obtain the actual number of individuals inside prison who have DNRs. But, in my limited six years in maximum facility prisons, I struggled to locate people with life sentences who haven't submitted a DNR form.
With a lack of access to proper healthcare, poor living conditions, minimal nutritional requirements, and undrinkable water (Stateville has found high levels of lead, copper, and Legionella), you might assume we live in a developing country. But this is how America treats and further punishes its citizens.
At times, the mental pain and physical anguish can seem insurmountable, so I understand why some of these men don't want to be brought back to such a horrible place where a less-than-humane life awaits them. My stance on preserving life hasn’t changed, but I understand where some like Anthony Ehlers come from. Their decision isn't necessarily linked to hopelessness but instead to overall quality of life.
Conditions need to change because, if nothing else, we are human beings, and this is not how we treat each other. Change can begin with providing basic necessities such as drinkable water free from deadly bacteria and toxic metals, proper nutrition in the chow halls (or the capability of purchasing it through the commissary), and mandatory healthcare that prioritizes the level of care we receive behind bars.
Will America wake up? Or will She remain complacent as many more opt in for a DNR as opposed to seeing this life inside prison through?
