About a decade ago, I had a brain hemorrhage. It was my first day of my vacation, and

my brother rushed me to the hospital. I went from completely fine without symptoms

to brain dead within a couple of hours. Had it been for my mother's unshaking and frankly

misplaced faith, they would have pulled the plug of me. Instead, I was kept alive for

three months. Then I woke up. It was unceremonious at best. I waived at a nurse who calmly

went to fetch a doctor. I felt in and out of consciousness, and in about an hour, I

was sitting up on my own. I had about a dozen tests and several ex-rays, but there was

seemingly nothing wrong with me. I bit my own nourishing and lacking bitmins, but a few

hearty meals later, and I was fine. If all my brother was even told about me waking up,

I was already on my feet. A bit wobbly, but still. I heard the word miracle thrown around

too many times to count. My mother was beside herself, and it cemented her faith in an unhealthy

place. She started giving most of her money to faith healers, spirit guides and mega-churches.

I know I shouldn't complain. Her attitude might have stayed the hand of someone who,

in good faith, were told to pull the plug. But I just hated seeing her get conned over

and over. Still, to her, in all my sense. I had to find a new place to live, and I'd

been replaced at my job. I moved in with my brother while I got back at my feet. I still

didn't notice any side effects, and in many ways, I was healthier than ever. I stayed with

my brother for two years before I got a nice job at a lumber mill outside of town, and was able

to get my own place. And up until about a year and a half ago, everything was fine. Then,

things started to feel weird. At first, I thought my old health problems were flaring back

up. Every day, my commute to work, I was getting headaches, dizziness, and sudden burst

of neck pain. It got so bad that I started dreading the drive to and from work, more

...