My lungs weren’t hurting particularly. I knew what had happened. I was dead. The murk was just the mess I’d made of my life. Maybe I would have et...rnity to clear it up. For some reason I remembered just when I’d lost Hope.My mid-life crisis hit the day I realized thirty-three was half-way through my life expectancy. Of course, technically, having already survived Viet Nam, I should have had a much longer life expectancy than the sixty-six that was estimated in 1982, but apparently I had. I didn't want to be a hypocrite any more than I had to."Isleta, stop." It took a while for her to do this and I had to put my hand on her shoulder to get her to react to what was here and now. "Isleta, I am not a religious person. You are free to believe just what you want."She started to understand, I hope, and I added, "I have some special tools that I use a lot to save lives. I can see into your husband's body and found the problem. I then worked with a tool that goes through more than the. More

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