Sammy turned 32 on May 17, 2022. It was twenty years ago “when I caught sight of Sammy in the side yard. My just-turned-twelve-year-olds eyes were scrunched up tight, sealing out the daylight.” (page 7 of Saving Sammy). I did not know the hell that was coming. I only knew the boundless ferocity of my love for my sons. When the tsunami hit, there were no parent groups, or charities, or conferences, or lists of providers for #PANDAS and #PANS. “We were an island.” (page 129) But today — we’re not. Sammy and Josh are both happily living and working in the tech industry in Seattle. Here we are in South Lake Union a few weeks ago with the Space Needle in the background. I’m the shrimp in the middle. Josh is wearing shades. Sammy had just climbed off his bike. (“I hate bikes,” he screamed – page 31). James, who now lives in Los Angeles, couldn’t make it. Next time, he will. As my sons have grown into men, I’ve come full circle. First the law, then medicine, then medicine and the law–and three books all to help parents! It’s been a heck of a journey. We made it to the other side. Everyone should be able to. While strep and other infections are finally being recognized for triggering behavioral aberrations that are the symptoms of post-infectious brain inflammation, it is ridiculous that some in the medical community are stubbornly resistant to what is as plain as the noses on their faces. Hubris is the Achilles’ heel of medicine.