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Born in Cleveland, the "later in life," unexpected seventh child of eight, I spent my pre-school years living above my father's furniture store. "Joe Ralph Furniture" was a profitable but mostly a family operation, with my mother the bookkeeper and my older siblings doing the manual labor. Each summer, my mother loaded up her tribe of children to spend three glorious months in a cement block cottage on the shores of Lake Erie. There my older siblings had jobs working for our grandmother at "Saylor's Place", a restaurant that specialized in smoked ribs, hosting a casual atmosphere along with white-tablecloth dining. My grand¬mother also owned a small marina and motel which required a teenage work force, easily fulfilled by my six older siblings. Eventually we left the big city and moved to Port Clinton, Ohio, a small community located on Lake Erie, where my father became as a manufacturer's sales rep in the furniture industry. I grew up in a "turn of the century" house that was spacious enough to house our large family, where faith, family unity, and a strong work ethic were the absolute rules. Why are you uniquely qualified to write this book In 1976, I graduated from Sandusky School of Practical Nursing and enjoyed a variety of experiences performing my own "art" in nursing. Three years in a hospital environment, five years in a nursing home setting and two in private duty nursing provided a wealth of information about the human spirit. I learned that patients are people, not diagnoses! During my brief tenure in nursing, I heard many times that the "fractured femur" in Room 108 wasn't comfortable on his current pain medication. Some¬times, the "congestive heart" in Room 110 needed increased diuretic because their urinary output wasn't sufficient to match their intake of fluids. Or, it was the "old schizophrenic" in Room 102 whose blood pressure was up. In report, none of them had names ¿ just health problems that needed to be resolved. For many years, I cared for "people" who had a primary diagnosis of schizophrenia and suffered other health problems. Somehow, in my youth, I understood the sadness of their brain disorder. Just at the moment of final maturity, their lives had been stolen. They were left behind, not allowed to go forward to reap the benefits of their hard work. Some had been confined to mental institutions for as long as fifty years. I under¬stood that for them, "life really wasn't fair." Why did you write this book? At first my writing was nothing more than journaling, writing short vignettes out of pain and catharsis. As time went on, I believed I had actually started writing a book. In the beginning, I was unsure whether the ending would be one of tragedy or triumph. I simply knew I was compelled to tell our story. I wanted to put a beautiful face that belonged to a brave, kind spirit on a tragic, horrific disease. I hoped that by introducing Michael as a healthy "all-American" kid, a real person, that anyone could identify him with their own child. Perhaps I could separate his lovely being from an unfortunate diagnosis ¿ a label ¿ and cause others to understand that he was a person suffering from schizophrenia, and not a schizophrenic. My very first thought of wisdom on mental illnesses was: If this could happen to Michael, it could happen to anyone. I under¬stood that once you tell the truth, you can't "un-tell" it, and I realized that there was indeed risk involved. But my brave son Michael encouraged me to go forward. My greatest aspiration became reaching the parents of children who had been recently diagnosed, in their early, painful mourning period. I wanted these parents to believe that no matter what they were witnessing and no matter what pain their child was enduring, recovery was possible.
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