The pot clattered to the kitchen floor, splattering lunch across the clean tiles. Rosa gasped, her hand flying to her stomach as a pain, sharper and more vicious than anything she had ever known, tore through her. Her husband, Ader, rushed in, his face etched with alarm. “Rosa, what happened? Are you okay?”
Trying to mask the fear gripping her, she managed a weak smile. “It’s nothing serious, Ader. Just a little stomach pain. It’s already passing.” But Ader had seen the grimace she couldn’t hide. For weeks, he’d been watching her, a quiet concern growing in his heart.
“I’ve noticed your belly looks a bit swollen,” he said gently, careful not to upset her. “Don’t you think we should get it checked out?”
Rosa waved a dismissive hand. “Swollen? That’s nothing. I’ve just been eating too much.” She was 50, a proud mother of three, and had always been meticulously in control of her health and appearance. The idea that something was wrong felt like a personal failure. “I’ll get back to my routine, and I’ll be fine in no time.”
Ader pressed on, trying to inject some humor into the tense moment. “Even so, you’ve never gained weight like this before. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were pregnant.”
She chuckled, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her casual demeanor.
Over the next few days, Rosa launched a full-scale assault on her swelling belly. She ran, she biked, she dieted with fierce discipline, but the swelling only worsened. Anxiety began to coil in her gut, a constant companion to the persistent pain. Then came something new and utterly terrifying: a distinct sensation of movement inside her. She tried to rationalize it, to convince herself it was gas or indigestion, but deep down, a primal fear was taking root.
A staunch believer in home remedies, Rosa avoided hospitals at all costs. To her, they were places of last resort, not for routine checks. A strong herbal tea was her answer to everything. But Ader, her husband of 30 years, was her opposite. He needed answers, and watching his wife suffer was becoming unbearable.
One morning, after another sleepless night, Rosa stood before the mirror. Her reflection stared back, distorted. Her belly was larger than ever. For a fleeting, surreal moment, the idea of a cryptic pregnancy flashed through her mind. She’d heard stories of women conceiving in their 50s. It was the only explanation that seemed to fit the bizarre symptoms. But she quickly dismissed it. She had been in menopause for over three years. It was impossible.
When Ader found her, the anguish on her face was unmistakable. “Rosa, that’s enough,” he said, his patience worn thin. “You have to go to the hospital.”
But it was the day their children and grandchildren were visiting. “Not today,” she pleaded. “I want to enjoy the day with them. I’ll make some tea. It’s probably just fluid or something.”
The family arrived, and though Rosa chose a loose-fitting dress, the change in her appearance was impossible to hide. Her children teased her good-naturedly about expecting another baby, but Ader seized the moment. He explained the pain, the swelling, and his wife’s stubborn refusal to seek help. As Rosa tried to downplay their concerns, another wave of pain crashed over her, so intense she nearly collapsed. Her eldest son caught her just in time.
The family was horrified, begging her to go to the emergency room. “I promise,” she gasped, breathing through the agony. “If this doesn’t go away by the end of the weekend, I’ll go.”
Two days later, the promise was broken, and Ader was frantic. Rosa’s belly was now shockingly distended, resembling a nine-month pregnancy. That morning, he found her in the kitchen, brewing yet another potent tea from her garden herbs.
“This ends today,” Ader said, his voice firm with desperation. “I’m taking you to the hospital, Rosa, whether you like it or not.”
As he gently took her arm, a deep, piercing scream ripped through the house. Rosa collapsed into his arms, shaking uncontrollably. The pain was different now—sharp, unrelenting, and terrifying. She gasped, clutching her stomach as she felt a powerful shift inside her, something alive and desperate to get out. Ader, now pale with fear, placed a hand on her belly and recoiled. He felt it too. A strong, definitive movement under her skin.
“Oh my God, what is that?” he shouted.
The car ride was a blur of agony and fear. Rosa’s screams echoed from the hospital entrance as Ader parked. Nurses rushed out with a stretcher. “We’ve got a pregnant woman in labor here!” one of them announced, her eyes wide at the sight of Rosa’s abdomen.
Dr. Elvira, a seasoned obstetrician, took charge. “How far along is she?” she asked crisply.
Through tears, Rosa managed to utter, “I’m not pregnant.” Ader quickly explained she was 50 and post-menopausal. Dr. Elvira’s professional calm faltered as she placed a hand on Rosa’s stomach and felt the unmistakable movement. It was unusual, but every other sign pointed to a full-term pregnancy. An ultrasound was the only way to know for sure.
Lying on the gurney, Rosa watched the doctor prepare the machine. Dr. Elvira spread the cold gel across Rosa’s skin, and as she did, she felt the movement again. But this time, she realized it wasn’t the gentle, rhythmic motion of a baby. It was a strange, unsettling, wavelike pattern—fast and constant. A chill ran down her spine.
As the image flickered to life on the screen, Dr. Elvira froze. Her eyes widened in disbelief and horror. There was something inside, moving with sharp, unnatural force. It was not a baby.
“What is that, doctor?” Rosa whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, what’s inside me?”
Dr. Elvira didn’t answer. She quietly summoned Dr. Leonel, a gastroenterology specialist. When he saw the monitor, he physically stepped back. “My God,” he muttered. “I don’t believe this.”
After a heavy silence that filled the room with dread, Dr. Leonel finally spoke. “Rosa, what you have is a worm.”
The word hung in the air, absurd and horrifying. “A worm?” Ader stammered. “But doctor, how? That thing is huge.”
“You’re right,” Dr. Leonel confirmed, his face tense. “It’s nothing like a normal parasite. We believe it’s gone through some kind of mutation, growing hundreds of times larger than it should have. I’ve never seen anything like it. We need to take it out right away.”
Surgery was the only option. The woman who had spent her life avoiding hospitals was now being prepped for an emergency operation to remove a monstrous, mutated parasite from her body. As the anesthesiologist prepared the needle, Rosa’s eyes flew open in a panic.
“No, it’s not that,” she cried out, startling everyone. “This pain, it’s different. Not like before.”
Before anyone could stop her, she leaped off the stretcher. “I need the bathroom right now!” she shouted, rushing into a nearby restroom and slamming the door. The medical team stood in stunned confusion. A few moments later, the door opened. Rosa stood there, beaming, a look of profound relief on her face.
“It’s gone,” she announced with a shaky laugh. “The worm came out.”
Dr. Elvira peeked inside and saw it for herself. There, in the toilet, was the giant parasite, no longer inside her patient. Rosa walked back to Ader, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “I told you my tea would fix it. That tea I was making before you dragged me here. It was a laxative. That was all it took.”
The tension that had suffocated the room for hours finally shattered, replaced by roaring, incredulous laughter.
Later, lab tests confirmed Dr. Leonel’s theory: it was a mutated parasite, likely ingested from contaminated food, that had grown to an unprecedented size. Further tests showed Rosa was completely healthy, with no damage to her stomach tissues. From that day forward, she never missed a doctor’s appointment. She still cherished her herbal teas, but she had learned a profound lesson about the vital importance of seeking medical care when your body sounds an alarm. She was grateful—for her life, for her health, and for the husband who refused to let her give up, even when she wanted to.