When I first met Billy, he was sitting motionless in a wheelchair, gnawing on a bedsheet dangling from the side of his mouth. He did not reply to questions. When I asked him something, he would just stare at me with an ear-to-ear smile, as if he knew something no one else did. His muscles were stiff. Occasionally he would glance from side to side, chew on the sheet or pick at his arms with his fingernails.
Two weeks ago, Billy went to the emergency department of another hospital with wet shoes on the wrong feet, saying, “I need to talk … about brain damage.” Now he was in a state of catatonia, immobile and stuporous. How could a perfectly healthy guy become like this in just a handful of days?
With silky black hair, a winning smile and a cocky, sarcastic edge to his humor, Billy typically had enough ...
