Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

What had started as a 23-point lead for Miami turned into a fight to the finish. The Raiders, who had looked absolutely out of it midway through the second quarter, began to claw their way back. In a war for the ages that featured multiple lead changes--especially in the second half--the Los Angeles Raiders (as they were still known in 1994) outlasted the Miami Dolphins 62-56, with players on both sides putting up admirable numbers. Perhaps no one excelled more where it matters than the great Tim Brown, who had thirteen catches for a jaw-dropping 445 yards, and five touchdowns to one single drop. Lionel Washington did not record a sack or an interception, but did produce nineteen tackles and was a critical component to the Raiders' comeback. Jeff Jaeger was as perfect as a kicker could ever be, going four for four on field goal tries and six for six on PATs, accounting for 18 of the Raiders' 62 points (which comes to about 29%). Tyrone Montgomery ran for his life and then some, with 33 carries for 125 yards and one rushing touchdown, while never fumbling the ball at any point in the contest. Last but not least, Jeff Hostetler went 23 for 73 with 623 passing yards and six touchdowns to five interceptions (most of which came in the first half, before he found his rhythm and started leading the way to the come-from-behind victory). Taking a look at Miami's production, the numbers--and the players who made them happen--are equally as interesting. Dan Marino, the Dolphins legend who by 1994 held virtually every team passing record, had a superior completion percentage, going 25 for 64 with 573 passing yards and two touchdowns to two interceptions (a ratio of 1:1, better than Hostetler's). Michael Stewart, who for some reason was listed as #33 in the game--his real-life number was #35, which he wore for the Dolphins from 1994 to 1996--produced eight tackles and was responsible for two of the five picks Hostetler threw. He was one of only two defenders to achieve eight tackles; no one achieved nine, let alone entered double-digit territory. Pete Stoyanovich led the way in scoring for the Dolphins, going a perfect seven for seven on field goal attempts and five for five on PATs. His 26 points counted for roughly 46% of the Dolphins' total scoring output throughout the contest. Mark Ingram proved he could grab a football with the best of them, with twelve catches for 368 yards, one touchdown, and no drops. Terry Kirby, who in 1994 was entering his second year in the NFL after an excellent rookie season with the Dolphins in 1993, had forty carries for sixty yards. Truly abysmal numbers on the surface, but he also recorded two rushing touchdowns and did not fumble the ball once, so in a way he was even better than Montgomery despite having less than half of his rushing yardage. As heartbreaking as it was to see Miami lose--on their final drive, with less than two minutes left, the Raiders' defense forced them into a fourth-down situation, with the ensuing attempted pass from Marino to Ingram falling incomplete--at least they managed to keep it close. It will be fun to see what the Raiders do in their next go-round; the plan is for them to face the Houston Oilers, who if I'm not mistaken had moved on from Warren Moon and promoted Cody Carlson, Moon's longtime backup QB, to the starter. Having Carlson under center, combined with the fact that the Oilers were dreadful in 1994, finishing in last place in the AFC Central and having the worst record in all of football that season with a 2-14 record, it should be a fairly winnable 'defense' for the Raiders. As it turns out, 1994 was Carlson's final season in the NFL, as he never played another down after that season. Cody, who had been named a Second-Team All-SWC in 1986, did not amount to much in the NFL, but still put up better numbers than I would have, finishing with 4,469 passing yards, 21 touchdowns, 28 interceptions and a passer rating of exactly 70.0. The CNA helping out this afternoon, who has been here for nearly the whole day and was here yesterday, engages in a conversation with the 'client' she is assisting in a nearby bathroom. A somewhat one-sided affair where she is doing her best to discern the expressions of this client's ever-focused mind. It seems her brain has 'reset,' as she says hello to the CNA once again. Her brain goes through several of these 'resets' on a daily basis, and I shall not endeavor to contemplate what causes them. Suffice it to say, the struggles she endures make me infinitely more thankful to possess the powers of communication that I have. The CNA is named after a city in France, but it is your guess as to what city I'm referring to. I cannot volunteer the answer, but you are now halfway there. I chuckle a bit, as our oldest housemate--currently in search of some bladder relief, I would presume--opens the door to what had once been the men's bathroom (back when there was an equal proportion of male to female residents). He quickly apologizes and shuts the door, realizing the circumstances, with one woman helping another in the shower. I am learning to be just as civil, to abandon my urges. It's been a while since I felt the desire to seek 'satisfaction,' and I cannot help but wonder if my interest in sports games has helped me find a new channel for this energy that wasn't being tapped into before. My libido is still strong, but I'm not giving into it as I once had. The lady's brain 'resets' once again, as she commences with a 'hello' and a combination of stuttered squeals that seem to form some sequence of words, but to my perception are utterly incomprehensible. For all I know, she could be communicating the cure for cancer. I like to imagine that she and her brother are the two most intelligent people in the world, but have toned their intellects down to a level where the playing field is heavily imbalanced in favor of myself and the rest of the 'clients.' I know it is not true, but it is the sort of thinking that can keep you humble. The last thing I want to do is fall into any sort of feeling of superiority. I'm not so superior, if I am in the same boat. And these people have all become family to me. When our oldest housemate comes to me for assistance with putting on his diapers, or putting a toilet paper roll on the rack, I am as kind as I possibly can be. I feel like he comes to me not only because of the convenience of me being right next door, but because I don't make a fuss. I don't make him feel bad, or shame him. It pains my heart when I see older people stripped of their dignity, and talked down to as if they were mischievous children. I don't feel like it happens to him that much, but I care about him now as if he were my own father. God knows if I had seen someone treating Richard like that, I would probably be in prison right now. "Good night," the lady gently says. It seems her brain has 'reset' again, but there is no 'hello' to indicate it. She advances to her room, cherishing the sleep she is able to enjoy. Perhaps part of why she wants to go to bed early--she has vied unsuccessfully in the past for early slumbers, a request that is sometimes granted depending on who is in charge, but on other occasions is rejected, with the rejections being mixed with ridicule and condescension--is because she has trouble sleeping. I got an indicator of this today, as I heard her yawn multiple times; her yawns were so loud that she could be heard all the way from the living room. Maybe it will help matters if I go to bed early myself. It is a tempting thought but my mind is inclined to write to a couple of people. Can I suppress the desire? (Spoiler alert: probably not.)