In Brisbane, Australia, a doctor pronounced a 92-year-old woman dead and the hospital promptly notified the family. What the doctor neglected to remember is that breathing still counts as a living characteristic even when it's coming from a 92-year-old. A few minutes later, the nurses inspected the woman and realized that she was breathing and the family had to be contacted again. Only three days later, the woman died, this time for real of an "undisclosed illness."
Imagine being the grown child of this woman, waiting for the inheritance and getting that glorious news on the phone. You're so excited you don't even put on trousers, you run out of the house in your Mickey Mouse boxers and a pair of ratty flip flops. With a huge smile on your face you rev the engine of your Fiat and set off to the hospital rubbing the peppers from your leftover fajita in the backseat on your eyes to get some real tear action going. Then when you get half way to the hospital, "Who Let the Dogs Out?!" starts playing and you answer your phone. It's the hospital. They made a mistake and your mom is still alive...
How in the Hell do you make a mistake like that? She was in pretty bad shape when you dropped her off at the hospital, what was she doing at the time the doctor thought she was dead that made her appear any more dead than usual? So you turn back around and hope to God this isn't some sort of karmic trick that's being played on you. Three days later she's still alive, you figure she's already 92, she might hold on another twenty years and break some world records, but you need that money NOW. So you call up someone at the hospital and agree to pay them fifteen hundred New Zealand dollars if they poison her morning toast with Vegemite. Did I ever mention that you are a very disturbed individual and I hope you rot in hell?