Too Late for Mercy: Dying on My Mother's Autopsy Table

Five years of stomach cancer. I couldn't hold on anymore.

I called my mother, begging her to save me.

"This pathetic trick again? You disgust me."

"If you're going to die, do it already. At least then we can have your kidney for your sister."

She hung up. The call lasted barely thirty seconds.

I didn't beg again. I faced death alone.

Until I ended up on her autopsy table.

My mother, who despised me with every fiber of her being, went entirely gray overnight.

1.

The nurse told me my hospital account was empty.