Victory?

Moving silently down shadowed halls the darkness hinders not at all.
Pushing softly on each passing door then returning to the one before.
This one had moved the tiniest bit just by barely pushing it
Inside the room in deep shadows lay a man with clothes in disarray.
A broken glass lay by the door and whisky scent rose from the floor.
Beside the bed on the windowsill sat an empty bottle of fentanyl.
Ragged breathing filled the air and perspiration soaked the pillow there.
Moving slowly over the moaning man a silent transformation began.
His face turned an ashen gray and the moaning faded soft away.
His temperature began to drop and then at last his breathing stopped.
Now it was clear for all to see the man was finally cancer free.