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Chapter 97: Moby

The following weeks bring more of the same. Once again, Piper's back to essentially being a full-time caregiver. We've been to countless doctors, specialists, internists, rheumatologists, and nutritionists; at last count, we've seen seventeen unique doctors or homeopathic specialists in three cities, all with the same result. None of them has a clue why I'm in such debilitating pain, and none have been able to relieve it longer than the narcotic lasts.

Initially, I worried I'd become addicted to the painkillers. Now I'm afraid I'm going to die before someone can diagnose the problem. Once again I'm confined to a wheelchair, unable to walk because the pain is so severe. My wife helps me to the bathroom, bathes me, dresses me, feeds me. Every movement is more painful than the last.

My rehabilitation process has completely halted since I can't do any of the work. None of my therapists have ever seen anything in a stroke patient like I'm experiencing. Piper has an obsession with findin
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