Dad rescued me from suicide in Atlanta.  I left all real estate, stocks and bonds, my profession and, most of all, friendships there.  Mom and Dad let me rest overnight in their home.

The next day, Dad brought me to Humana Hospital.  SInce I had  been suicidal, the Emergency Room staff placed me in the Psychiatric Services Unit, disregarding the fact that I was paralyzed on the right side of my body.  After a few days observation, doctors determined that I was faking paralysis (symptomatic of psychosis ? ) and transferred me to the Psychiatric Services  Unit of Baptist Hospital in Pensacola, Florida, completely disregarding the fact that I had been a neurological patient for the past twenty-two years.

Baptist Hospital, too, stated that I was faking paralysis to the right side, diagnosed me as manic depressive  and transferred me to University Hospital (now closed), also in Pensacola.  There I lay, for a little over one year, until my body became completely paralyzed.  Mom would make the three-hour round trip almost daily to visit  me. 

Then, in July  1985, I was transferred to the most degrading, inhumane place on Earth (unknown to me because I was completely paralyzed), Florida State Hospital at Chattahoochee, Florida.

My body was placed in a room in the Admissions Unit.  Since I could not verbally (nor in handwriting) express my thoughts, I was assigned a legal guardian.  I do not remember much about that unit, except that it is across the street from the canteen (snack bar).  Mom, Dad and  my sisters were  there almost daily visiting me.  I knew they were there.  However, how much response can a person give  who is completely paralyzed, unable to  eat or speak typically?

In November 1987, Mom went to Chattahoochee, raising Holy Hell with the hospital administrator, Dr. Ivory: "Why wasn't he treated for neurological disorder? Why does he weigh only 102 lbs. now  (stands 6'1"? Why is Patrick still completely paralyzed? "

Almost immediately, Dr. Ivory had me shipped to Shands Hospital in Gainesville, Florida for intensive examination. After several days there, doctors at Shands decided only one thing:  that I was faking paralysis to my  entire body.  I was returned to Florida State Hospital at Chattahoochee with a new diagnosis:  paranoid shizophrenic.  Once again I was placed in the geriatric  unit.

On December 22, 1987, Shands Hospital, again, requested that Dr. Ivory send me for more exams.

The next day, 12.23.1987, an international team of neurosurgeons removed a 10 1/2" -long Arnold Chiari Malformation (the cause of complete paralysis in my body; it was growing down the spinal column), a benign brain tumor and 2 " of neck vertebrae. (Apparently, the diagnosis of "psychosis" was incorrect.) Neurosurgeons stated that I would be on a gurnie for life, utilizing a feeding tube.

On 1.16.1988, I was transported back to Chattahoochee - Level 4 of Unit 4.  There, I was regarded as royalty:  life was good, and I was recovering slowly but surely, until...

The abuses started !!!

In line at the cafeteria, waiting for my meal tray, Roy Saylor, another patient, charged at me hitting his fist to my forehead. I immediately fell on my face, the plate in my head went C-L-A-N-G-, and blood gushed on the floor.  Staff did nothing for a few minutes, until Mr. Al Jackson checked my vitals then called the ambulance.  I was brought to the Medical Unit for sutures by a  surgeon then retrned to Unit 4.  (The scarring is delicately hidden in my eyebrows).  I wasn't allowed to call home to notify.

Then came the brutal beatings by Ronald Blackmon aka Robert Walker and the head-hitting by Stephen Patterson - almost daily.  I notified the Advocacy Center for People with Disabilities (800.342.0823) and Human Rights Advocacy Center (800.342.0825) that supervisors at Chattahoochee Hospital were not stopping the physical abuses.  However,I was beaten almost daily by patients at that hospital until September 1988, when Susan Curran and Michael Wilson, of the Advocacy Center (Tallahassee, Florida), came and spoke with me, then staff of Unit 4. Who's ever heard of physical abuse at a hospital?

Soon, I was transferred to Level 5 of Unit 4, the "free time" unit.   However, my freedom only lasted a brief while.

I rebelled against the conversion therapy that Florida State Hospital at Chattahoochee emphasized. (As  you may know, conversion therapy is the pseudoscientific practice of trying to change an individual's sexual orientation using psychological or spiritual interventions. There is virtually no reliable evidence that sexuality can be controlled or changed and medical bodies warn that conversion therapy practices are ineffective and potentially seriously harmful.), by delivering a speech in the dayroom that began, "Yes , I am gay, but so what?"

I was immediately transferred to Level 3 (Closed Unit) and enrolled in GED Classes (although I possessed an MBA from Georgia State University).  On Level 3, I was re-introduced to conversion therapy and code talk.  Almost immediately, I was assigned a girlfriend, Kathryn.  We shared much,  but not romance.  Most of the clients on that unit were diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, which was code talk for homosexual, lesbian,  gay, whatever...    Little did I realize that code talk was language inside the unit; straight talk (or free time talk) was the language outside  the unit. Code talk was similar to speaking in antonyms!  ...how confusing !!!

On Level 3, gay sexual activity was almost as predominant as it was in The Club Baths on 4th Street in Atlanta.  No wonder a Unit Director (Jerry Anderson) once stated  that Chattahoochee is the "sex capital of  Florida". 

In 1991, to my dismay, I was released from Florida State Hospital at Chattahoochee after acing the  habeas corpus examination.

...so began another chapter in my life:  the discrimination that I face is worse than it was to be gay, a       slave, a prisoner, et al...is the discrimination of "mental patient".  (To this day, I am still referred as "retarded", "idiot"and "mental case", by some people.)