Where did you grow up? Born in Detroit and raised in its suburbs, I have lived with and around the economically challenged population most of my life; there is a unique perception of the world when you grow up poor. Fortunately, Mama was an Italian-American, Dad a US Marine, so the influences of my family (famiglia) taught responsibility, patriotism, and pride. The Midwest contributed a sense of connectedness and belonging, and the combination of com-munity, culture, and ethics planted the seed of desire to become a patient advocate and agent for social change. Why you are uniquely qualified to write this book I can tell these stories because I have lived them and know the difference between dramatic representations and real life. Like many, I grew up watching the EMS and ER shows on television that focused on the hero aspect, providing predictable outcomes, and an unrealistic percentage of happy endings. Although television and movie depictions are more factual these days, the truth about how the emergency worker feels remains mostly hidden. My slant is in telling another side of the story: what responders think and feel during calls, how they internalize tragedy, what happens after the call, and how our world turns upside down when the patient is someone we love. Why did you write this book? When I tell people what I do, they focus on the gory side of life, like those who cannot look away from the scene of a bad accident. What they do not realize until it happens to them is that trauma affects someone who is loved and cherished, and lives are forever changed. I want people to see the world for a moment through my eyes, to walk with me through the broken glass, to sit next to me and hold the hand of the injured or dying, to fight against death thinking that sometimes we just might have the power to win those battles. And then I want them to see the complete lunacy of it all and laugh. What do you think readers will get out of it? I am hoping that readers will see emergency service workers in a new light and realize we are human, too. We have our own challenges, pains, and sorrows. We have had surgeries, major illnesses, broken bones, and our share of emotional scars. We have been in accidents, our backs are killing us from lifting, and our feet ache after shifts that last from 12 to 24 hours, often without a break. We also realize the importance of last words, how sometimes the sound of an "I love you" has to last a lifetime. One misperception I hear in the ER is that "you don't understand what I'm going through." Perhaps not, but folks may be surprised. Some may appreciate knowing what we think about after the call is over as we strip off our uniforms and profes-sionalism, scrub off the bacterial and emotional accumulations of the day, and settle into an easy chair at home. What will you do next in your life? Things have changed dramatically in the past year. I work from home, and speaking engagements have been through video. CISM moved into teleconferencing, which is beyond me, so training is on hold. Despite heightened precautions in 2020, COVID-19 found me and left its mark; I am a fortunate and blessed survivor. I am writing and editing for the Michigan Crisis Response Association (MCRA), and editing into American English microbiology studies from a group in Italy (through Giovanni di Bonaventura, Ph.D., Professore at Università degli Studi "G D'Annunzio" di Chieti - Pescara). The future is uncertain. I put one foot in front of the other, live an attitude of gratitude, watch, and improvise. Maybe this is how one eases into retirement, and in retirement, I hope to write.