Back around 1957, at 2 a.m. or so, my Uncle, who was visiting, went downstairs and outside (it was summer and he was thinking of sleeping outside). Meanwhile, his cigarette dropped on the mattress and started a fire. My brother awakened and was shouting for help as he tried to beat out the smoke. I awoke, saw the smoke and saw what he was doing. I ran downstairs and ran into my Uncle, who ran upstairs and forced the mattress out the window and into the backyard.

By now, naturally, my mother and the rest of the house was wide awake!

For several years I slept with a large glass of water by my bed and so did my brother.

That was PTSD, but I got over it (I still remember the sights and sounds, however). But the water helped both of us because we could then do something more if it happened again.

A fire is one of those very traumatic events....