This memoir was written because it has been in my head for most of my adult life.
Some of this started in 1977 when I worked as an assistant professor in anesthesia and surgery at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, FL, which is where, more importantly, I spent more than four months with my 31-year-old brother in an intensive care unit before he died from a car accident.
When I finally realized this, they had to come out, and I began to write.
All of my hopes and dreams and fears were secrets.
This memoir was written because it has been in my head for most of my adult life