“I Was Strapped to a Backboard After a Crash — My Mom Only Wanted a $4,200 Transfer”

ready for the pain medication now,” I told the nurse who’d been waiting with a syringe. As the morphine flooded my system, I closed my eyes and pictured my mother at the salon checkout counter, her card extended, waiting for the familiar beep of approval.

Only this time, there would be silence. Then: “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your card has been declined.”

I continue reading …