Tomas Crisp, 65 and dying of cancer, stirred in his sleep, the I.V. tubing and wires attached to the monitoring electronics made it difficult to roll off his back and onto his side. He coughed, and the cough led to another, and then another deeper cough which developed into a full-blown coughing fit that finally woke him from yet another of this afternoon's short naps. The drugs just weren’t working. He was in pain and he just couldn’t get any meaningful sleep. With all of his money, he couldn't beat what ails him. He looked around the small hospital room as he pressed the dosing trigger for another hit of morphine. The room was dimly lit, medicinal and stark, no flowers or cards, no evidence of family or friends. At the age of 65, Tom would die alone, and this was fine with him as he had lived a good life; lonely, but good. He felt a warm rush as the drug took effect; his eyelids slowly dropped him into another fitful nap.
To read more of Tom’s miracle, please follow the attached link: Miracle
