I saw him attired in a designer suit, getting into his late model Mercedes and he spotted me staring at him with anger and loathing in my eyes. He couldn’t deal with it, avoided my stare and hustled away.
The quack. Leaving my buddy behind while he finished getting a check for thousands knowing full well he was selling feces to a dying man.
He did this with late stage cancer and ALS victims, promising them they will live and walk again. Just pass me the money and I will order the stem cells from France to inject in you to make you whole. That was his line to those without hope.
He made a good living from his PhD.
I have known the Healer. Competent, kind, compassionate and honest. If there was little hope, they would say so. The good PhD.
There are too many quacks out there. Pious bastards with one hand in your wallet, the other around your throat.
There are not enough true Healers.
