My Intern Sister Operated on My Tumor

My mother, Winona Barlowe, who was the medical director at the hospital, decided to let my intern sister, Mia Barlowe, practice her skills by performing a brain tumor surgery on me.

I begged my mother to assign another doctor since it was my only chance at survival.

She slapped me across the face and cried out, "How did I ever give birth to a selfish girl like you? Mia just started her internship. Can’t you give her the chance to practice?"

When I died from the botched surgery, she turned gray overnight.

I was dead. My sister, Mia Barlowe, who was just an intern at the hospital, killed me. After my death, my soul returned to my mother's side.

My mother, Winona Barlowe, was in the middle of consoling Mia, "Don't worry, Mia. Your sister, Willow Barlowe, is a tough girl. She’s going to be fine. Come on, let me take you home to get some rest."

Her eyes were filled with heartache as she looked at Mia. I have never seen her regard me with such tender affection.

For years, she had always regarded me with nothing but sheer irritation. Whenever she spoke to me, her voice would be laced with annoyance.

I always played it off by pretending that it did not bother me, but that was not true. I only reacted that way because I did not want to come across as weak.

Now that I was dead, I could no longer withhold all the bitterness within me.

As soon as I got home, Mom's phone rang.

When the doctor informed her of my death, she declared stoutly, "That’s impossible! Don’t you have enough competent doctors in your hospital to rescue her? She’s not even that sick in the first place anyway! She’s just upset I had her sister operate on her and got you to call me to scare me, didn’t she? I know what she’s up to!"

After hanging up curtly, she was still convinced that I was just drumming up a scene. She turned back to Mia with an apologetic look on her face. "Mia, I’m sorry for scaring you. I’ll punish Willow when she comes back!"

As soon as she said this, her phone rang again.

Her tone instantly switched from gentle coaxing to impatience as soon as she picked up. "Like I said, you can tell Willow she can go off and die if she wants to. Just stop calling and bothering me!"

There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the phone before a response came, "Mrs. Barlowe, this is the police. Your daughter, Mia Barlowe, is suspected of being involved in clinical malpractice, and we’ve been trying to get in touch with her. We appreciate your cooperation in the investigation."

Mom could no longer hold back her rage. "First the doctors, now the police! I don’t care who you are. Stop throwing these accusations or else!"

The officer responded curtly, "Mrs. Barlowe, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. We’re just doing our jobs."

Mom turned to the terrified Mia, who was sitting beside her, and cried out irritably, "Alright! Tell Willow to quit being so unreasonable! She’s scaring Mia!"

With that, she hung up again.

Ever since I was hospitalized, Mom had been constantly upset with me. She was convinced that I was overreacting to a minor illness and that I was only getting hospitalized to get her attention.

Mia whimpered aggrievedly with tears in her eyes, "Mom, I’m scared! What if something happens to Willow?"

Mom snapped with a sharp gleam in her eyes, "She’s only doing this to get my attention! Besides, you had the most experienced doctor in the hospital take over halfway through the operation, so everything should be fine. I can’t believe she’s making a fuss over something like this. She’s pushing her luck!"

The sight of Mom's apathetic attitude sent a wave of chill across me, even whilst my corpse was still warm. When I recalled the way I had been begging for Mom’s affection like a beggar, I felt like a fool.

A little while ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor at the hospital where Mom worked as the Medical Director.

Tragically, Mom outright refused to accept the diagnosis and even claimed I was faking it.

The attending doctor, Dr. Thomas Videu, noted that my condition was critical. He told me there was a chance I could survive if I could get in touch with the famous Dr. Luke Batiste, who was the best brain tumor specialist in the country, to operate on me.

Dr. Batiste happened to be Mom’s friend and classmate in the past.

I tried a few times to go to Mom for help with the documents as evidence of my condition.