My wealthy investors laughed in the middle of a five-star restaurant when I trusted my paralyzed daughter’s recovery to a quiet man in a cheap gray t-shirt.
She hovered her right foot over the first shallow stair, balancing entirely on the legs they had declared dead, and began to shift her weight forward into the empty air. Her foot found the floor. One step. Then two. The stage was low. She cleared the two shallow stairs and stood on the ballroom floor….
