Meet Anna Rehbein – Wisconsin Advocacy Committee Chair
While other kids twirled in princess dresses or pretended to save the world in capes, I carried a toy stethoscope. I looked at doctors and nurses as real-life superheroes and wanted to be like them. Even as a child, I believed that helping someone stay alive was the greatest superpower a person could have. I didn’t know the word “purpose” yet, but I felt it growing quietly inside me, guiding me toward something bigger than myself.
That feeling became real when I was eight years old. I can still remember the sound of my grandfather collapsing, the sudden panic in the room, and the way everything shifted when my mom dropped to her knees and began CPR. Her training and her courage saved his life. Watching her brought a truth into sharp focus: ordinary people can become heroes when they know what to do in extraordinary moments. That day sparked my lifelong passion for heart health and emergency preparedness.
Years later, that passion was reshaped by heartbreak. When I was nineteen, I received a phone call that changed my life forever. My dad had passed away suddenly from a heart attack. There was no warning and no chance to say goodbye. One moment, he was part of every future I imagined, including my college graduation, my wedding day, and the next he was gone. Losing him changed the course of my life and gave me a new sense of purpose. I never want another family to carry the same questions and regrets that mine does.
A routine blood test revealed I was at higher risk for heart disease due to family genetics. I remember getting my results back and being stunned. I was young, active, and I watched what I ate, so how could this happen? For a while, I felt truly defeated, but I refused to let a genetic factor define who I am. I learned what the results meant, made changes where I could, and started telling people about it. If I hadn’t lost my dad, I might never have known how important it is to check your numbers, no matter your age. Heart disease and stroke are often preventable, yet they remain the leading causes of death in our country and take more lives than all cancers and chronic respiratory diseases combined.
Although I can never bring back my dad, I can help shape a future where fewer families experience the pain of losing someone to something that could have been prevented. That belief is what first led me to the American Heart Association as a volunteer, and it is why I am now honored to serve as Chair of the Wisconsin Advocacy Committee. I have witnessed both sides of cardiac emergencies. I have seen a life saved because someone knew how to respond, and I have felt the devastation of losing someone I love without warning. Those moments are the foundation of my commitment to this work. Each year in the United States, more than 350,000 cardiac arrests happen outside of a hospital, and immediate CPR can double or even triple a person’s chance of survival. That reality reminds me that lifesaving change does not happen in a single moment. It grows when ordinary people choose to learn, to act, and to advocate for something greater than themselves.
This year, my focus as chair is helping communities feel prepared long before an emergency happens. That includes expanding CPR education, increasing access to AEDs, and strengthening prevention resources. A major part of that work is advancing the CERP bill through the Senate and, ultimately, to the governor’s desk. My hope is to see it signed into law by the end of 2026 so it can begin protecting families across Wisconsin. If my story resonates, please get your numbers checked, learn hands‑only CPR, and join us in advocating for safer communities. Ordinary people become heroes when they choose to act.
