ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. -- One sunny morning recently, Millie Galan-Aguirre pushed her 14-year-old son's wheelchair past an AMVET post and a tattoo parlor to a strip-mall storefront called Chamber of Hope.
She rolled Manny inside and parked him next to a long, blue tube with a zipper along the top.
"Hi, Sunshine," she said, taking his hand. "You ready to go in?"
Soon the other mothers would arrive with children who had other problems. The boy with half a brain. The girl who nearly drowned. The teenager with cerebral palsy. Everyone seeking miracles.
There are no doctors in this unlikely outpost. No insurance needed. No fees. The only currency is hope -- and Mark Fowler, the man who runs this place, tosses it around like confetti.
Fowler hooked Manny up to a lift that lowered him into one of the five hyperbaric chambers positioned around the large, open room. His mother climbed in and laid down next to him as Fowler zipped the top closed.