"Her name was Anne. I found her in the lobby of our church crying hysterically, unable to be comforted by our staff. When I finally got her in a room by herself, I innocently asked, "What can I do to help you?" She then yelled, "Look at me! Look at me. My name is Anne, and I am a person. I want someone to treat me like a person!" "
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This article originally appeared as a guest column in The Orlando Sentinel.