“Why didn’t you come sooner?” the nurse asked gently, placing a hand on Margaret’s trembling shoulder. The skin on Margaret’s stomach felt rock hard, not soft like fat or fluid. It was a solid mass.
“I was afraid,” Margaret confessed, a single tear tracing a path through her wrinkles. “My husband died back then. Then my son moved to Canada.” She took a shaky breath. “I was all alone.”
She explained how she had simply decided to “live as long as she could” without intervention. She had adapted her entire life around the growth, buying larger clothes and sleeping in a chair. But now, she couldn’t breathe.
“We need to get you to imaging immediately,” Dr. Evans said, grabbing the phone to page the radiology department. “This isn’t just weight gain, Margaret. There is something inside you that doesn’t belong there.”
As they wheeled her down the sterile white hallway, the wheels of the gurney squeaked rhythmically. Margaret stared up at the fluorescent lights, wondering if she would ever leave this building again.