Hard to believe it’s been 20 years since that fateful morning in September. Not a cloud in the sky. A crisp fall chill in the air. A perfect day. Where were you? Driving to work. Making your bed. Walking the dog. For me, it was the final week of my medical leave before going back to work after open-heart surgery that summer. I was 41, tanned, rested and ready to rejoin the rat race. Until I wasn’t. I wouldn’t know this until six months later when my doctor diagnosed me with a form of PTSD and prescribed Zoloft, which helped and got me through the worst of my post-op anxiety.…