I know you’re not supposed to smoke in bed, and I never would—in fact, I don’t smoke—but the person living in the apartment below mine does…and did. Which is why I woke up in the middle of the night to a loud banging on the door, my apartment filled with smoke. The place was on fire, and I was lucky to get out alive. Alive, but not well. I had a killer headache, I was dizzy, my heart was racing and I could hardly breathe. Then I started vomiting. By the time the ambulance got me to the hospital, I had suffered a seizure and then lost consciousness. It turns out that I had actually inhaled a large amount of cyanide gas. They put me on a respirator in the ICU. After two weeks in the hospital, they were ready to release me, but until I fully recovered I couldn’t work and I had no place to go. My apartment was obviously out of the question. I panicked. Was I going to be homeless? Kingston Center came to the rescue. I’ve been here for eleven months now, and they’ve taken care of everything I need—with professionalism and compassion. Their Respiratory Management team has been superb, dealing with all my medical issues. But even more than that, I haven’t had to worry about where I’m going to live, what food I’m going to eat or what clothes I’m going to wear. The fire messed my life up. Kingston Center put it…