his life seemed to us to hang in the balance. Our daily routines revolved around his feeding sessions, each of which would take literally hours per sitting. I remember one of those sessions quite vividly. I saw my mother cuddling Mark’s practically lifeless body and literally crying out to God from the depths of her heart. I certainly felt her anguish, and what seemed like his pain, although I’m not sure I knew enough to be certain that Mark was suffering. Regardless of what Mark did or didn’t feel,