Very quietly Ron said, "You know, I think the Towers are going to go. Maybe we'd better get out of here." ßWe suddenly realized that if either of the Towers fell at a certain angle, our building was directly in the line of fall. Above the raging flames, the perpendicular steel I-beams were beginning to bulge out, softening in the heat. Again his unnaturally quiet voice, "I can't stay here. If the Towers fall on us, I'll die of fright." (BALCONY VIEW—a 9/11/ Diary) Julia Frey's account begins on September 11, 2001, as the couple decide that despite her husband's illness, they must somehow flee. They abandon his wheelchair; he is too frail to climb on a boat. Later that day, covered with ashes, they struggle home through a neighborhood pitched into destruction and chaos, to look out his study window at their new view: "the stage set for Dante's Inferno." The domino effect of one burning, collapsing building setting fire to the next one makes it clear that their own building could still go. "The electricity was out. Ron could never go down 26 flights on his rear end. We were trapped in the sky." That's when Julia decides to write it all down—if only for the people who will find their bodies. Describing the first night in the the ruins, being evacuated, then returning weeks later, to live at Ground Zero, she discovers that their world has totally changed, yet finally not changed at all. "Our previous problems didn't magically disappear. They were just waiting for us to come back in the door." This powerful narrative of double coping—with Ron's progressing disability and with the after-effects of 9/11—describes a situation the manuals don't cover—caregiving in a disaster.