On My Deathbed, She Wants a Confession
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Summary
It's my third year living with ALS, and my 11th day since losing the ability to speak completely. My wife, Renee Sutton, bursts into my hospital room with a lawyer and a notary in tow, gripping a so-called expert report that concludes all of my symptoms can be faked.
She throws it onto my bed.
"Miles, you're really a hell of an actor," she says. "You had me fooled for three years. Today, you're finally going to tell the truth."
I look at her and open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
