Dead Mom, Fresh Invoice

My stomach dropped. I headed straight to the hospital.

I checked the bill as soon as they handed it over.

Every medication and treatment had been ordered today.

My mom died here three days ago after they failed to save her. So who were all these expensive drugs and tests for?

Something was off.

I asked for copies of every record, saying I needed them for insurance.

If I hadn't checked, I never would've known.

My mom had spent two weeks in the hospital after a heart attack.

And somehow, the total came to $180,000.

She'd been charged for more than ten coronary angiograms.

And over thirty heart stents?

There were even five CT scans in one day.

My jaw tightened. I went straight to her attending physician.

"Dr. Reed, my mom died after you couldn't save her. Where did all these charges come from?"

Dr. Reed froze. "Sometimes after a patient is discharged, the hospital finds an unpaid balance and contacts the family.

"We've never overcharged our patients. You can rest assured."

I pointed to the date on the bill. "These medications were ordered today. My mom's already dead. Who are they for?"

Irritated, he pointed to the framed thank-you letters on the wall.

"I understand you're grieving, but this is insulting! Please leave!"

I tried to argue, but Dr. Reed grabbed my wrist and shoved me out of his office.

"If you doubt me, take it to the hospital director. I'll cooperate with any investigation! I've practiced medicine for over thirty years, and no one's ever accused me of this. This is outrageous!"

I swallowed my anger. "But there's obviously something wrong with her account. You were her attending physician. Aren't you responsible?"

Before I could finish, several nurses shoved me back.

"What problem? Stop harassing the staff! Security won't go easy on you!

"Or are you just here to cause trouble and disrupt other patients' care? Your mom's treatment is over. That doesn't give you the right to hurt everyone else!"

The other patients immediately got worked up and started shoving me.

My face hardened. "You won't explain it? Fine. I'm calling the cops!"

Then a familiar voice came from behind me.

"Calling the cops for what? Daniel Carter, why are you causing a scene? This is a hospital."

I turned. My longtime friend George, a doctor at the same hospital, pushed through the crowd with a frown.

I took a breath and held out the bill. "George, something's wrong with these charges. I want an explanation."

His voice shot up. "That's impossible!

"Daniel, your mom was greedy when she was alive. Guess you really are her son. You're just like her."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"