In 1999 I was incarcerated in a nursing home in Binghamton, NY. This occurred after I had a procedure on my kidneys. I was ill and very weak; this is how the individuals representing the nursing home were able to convince me I should recover and rehabilitate in their facility.

I recovered my physical health within two months. I believed I should return to my apartment where I had lived for several years in the community. All of a sudden they were coming up with scenarios to show why I could not return to my home. Some eight months later, I was still at the facility and getting more depressed by the hour.

Many of the people I came in contact with begin to question why I was still at the facility. They seemed to think I no longer belonged there. By this time I didn’t feel I should still be at the nursing home either. However, the question now became, how do I get out of here? The nursing home was getting in excess of $5,000.00 a month. When you consider this type of money coming in to their facility, this is why they did everything they could to keep me right where I was.

I begin to complain bitterly that there was nothing to do. A week later the activities’ director stopped by my room and gave me several pages from a coloring book. She also gave me a large box of crayons. They were all in primary colors. Her explanation was that she believed I might be able to express my artistic side by coloring. (At this time I held two degrees, an AA from Nassau Community College on Long Island and a BA from Binghamton University, NY). After she left I stared at the coloring pages at the end of my bed. Without much thought I picked up a red crayon and began to color. After a half an hour, my mind suddenly snapped back to reality; I thought, what am I doing? I have to get out of here or my next placement will be in the “insane asylum”.

A friend of mine has a brother who is disabled and is very active within the disability community. When he heard about my difficulties, he phoned me to say he was calling Bruce; my response was “Who is Bruce?” He laughed at me and said you will see. The Bruce he was referring to is Bruce Darling from CDR. A week later after talking with Bruce, we both decided a nursing home was not for me. A month later I was on my way to my new apartment in Rochester, NY.

The nursing home did everything except spit wooden nickels in an attempt to keep me in their facility. All their efforts went for naught. I had won my freedom.
A week later I found myself in Washington D.C. taking part in my first ADAPT Action. The beer someone handed me sure tasted better than the Maalox the nursing home was giving me. It was amazing once I was free. How quickly my health improved! It was during this period that I learned to chant “2 4 6 8 Hell We Won’t Go!”

Remembering this experience some 10 years later is rather frightening. I think to myself “Thank God for CDR”. I will always be grateful to Bruce and the other individuals who helped in winning my release from the nursing home.