Have you ever experienced something that shock you to your very core, something that
makes you remember every single little detail of your surroundings from that moment in time,
Even years after, I can remember so vividly the moment I realized something
was wrong with me. I was in my junior year of high school,
sitting in class just like any other day. I remember the smell of the
razors and cheap cologne that permeated off my classmate who sat next to me.
I remember the scratchy tag of my T shirt and how I was resisting taking
it off in the middle of class, just to cut it off. I
remember what my teacher, Missus Brown, was talking about, the fall of
Constantinople. My mouth felt dry, and I kept looking at the clock,
counting down the minutes until I had lunch so I could get a soda.
The sound of a pen clicking behind me was synchronized with the song that was
stuck in my head. All those things were going through my brain at once.
My adhd mind went a million miles per hour. When it all came
down to a crashing halt. When I felt it at eleven twenty three,
I felt what I can only describe as a hand grabbing at the inner lining
of my stomach. Yet it didn't necessarily hurt, not at this point.
That's not why I got so scared. You see, not only do I
have ADHD, I also have OCD that manifests itself in the fear of anything
growing or moving inside me. Even if I think about the concept of blood
moving in my body or a heart that is beating in my chest, I
have to think of something else. I've had full blown panic attacks because of
it. The closest term for this is tocophobia. That's technically the fear of
pregnancy. I'm a guy, so it's not completely accurate, but it's really
the closest term. I mean, I also have a huge fear of pregnancy,
not necessarily of me being pregnant, but even though I knew I could
never get pregnant, the thought of it made me feel sick. I bet
you can imagine the terror that overcame me. As I felt something moving inside
me, I made an audible groan and grabbed my stomach. The whole class
turned to look at me. Even my teacher stopped talking to ask if I
was okay. I stood up and started to run to the nurs's office without
even acknowledging my teacher. My first thought wasn't thinking that something was actually in
my body. Even stomach aches and the feeling of gurgling in my stomach made
me feel this way before. I didn't have anything on hand to help with
the stomach ache. Unfortunately, however, the nurse always did. I sprinted
across the school, hoping and praying that my stomach wouldn't make that awful feeling
again. Before I got there, I turned the corner into the nurse's office
with my tennis shoes squeaking in the process. I saw the school nurse,
Missus Kennedy, sitting on the couch in her office reading a magazine. She
looked up at me with a sweet smile that quickly turned to worry. Sam.
What is it? How can I help? She said, as she
stood up and hurried over to me, putting her hand over mine with just
grabbing my stomach tightly. It's it's my stomach. Something's wrong with my stomach,
I mumbled with the red face. She shuffled away over to a large
medicine ca and she motioned for me to sit down. She asked me questions
about my stomach, asking if it was pain, grumbling, cramps, nausea,
etc. As she was asking me what my symptoms were and digging through
bottles, the feeling happened again. However, this time it was different.
It felt like fingers grazing against the inside of my body. I screamed and
wrapped my arms around my torso Missus Kennedy ran over to me to comfort me.
This seems a lot worse than normal. Maybe we should call your parents,
she said, as she put her hand on my back. It felt
like some days I saw missus Kennedy more than my teachers. Any small element
would distract me so badly from class that I had to go see her,
sometimes multiple times a day. She knew at this point when something was really
wrong. Within about thirty minutes, both my parents were there with us.
That may seem fast, but I'm an only child and my parents are very
aware of my tendencies. They know I can spiral and like to be around
if it happens. They kept asking me where the pain was. I think
they assumed by the way I wasn't responding to their questions, the pain must
have been really bad. The reality was that I just didn't know how to
tell them. What was going on. I got so frustrated after they asked
me over and over again that I just yelled at them something is inside me,
Get it out, Get it out. I left my shirt and was
ripping at my stomach, leaving rednails, scratches and cuts. My mum and
dad ran to either side of me to grab my arms. Missus Kean had
seen me go pretty crazy, but this was the worst I've ever gotten in
front of her. My parents, however, had seen a similar situation before,
not exactly like this, but they didn't skip a beat on trying to
help me. Sam breathe, sweetie. Just remember everything is in you for
a reason. It's keeping you alive. Nothing is going to hurt you,
my mom said softly to me, trying to calm me down with the words.
My therapist gave her ice cubes. Get him ice cubes, she said
to missus Kennedy. As I started to hyper ventilate, Missus Kennedy grabbed a
zip lock bag and started to fill it with ice cubes. My mom went
over to her and grabbed her an ice cube right out of the bag,
opened up my hand and put the ice cube in it. This worked in
the past. To distract me. I knew that's what she was doing,
and trust me, I wanted it to work too. But this was different.
I kept trying to tell myself that it was just a different feeling I
hadn't felt before, that it wasn't possible something was physically inside my body,
but I couldn't help it. Everyone in the room could see that this was
getting intense. I think they assumed it was just a mental breakdown and that
nothing was physically wrong with my body. But I didn't care. I just
wanted help. My parents got me into the car, with my mom even
sitting in the back seat with me, she kept trying to distract me with
conversation when my mind was only on that awful feeling in my stomach. We
pulled up to the er and my mom guided me in while holding both my
wrists. If i'll Achoo was walking me on a leash, but I didn't
fight it. I knew she was just trying to stop me from scratching my
stomach. We walked in and I spoke to the receptionist. All I said
was that I had a terrible pain in my stomach. I didn't want to
sound too crazy. I just needed a doctor to look at whatever was going
on. After giving the receptionist my name and insurance information, we went to
sit down. I was sitting in between my parents, and I could see
my mom lean back to try and mouth something to my dad without me seeing.
I didn't think much of it. I was way more worried about other
things. My dad then went up to the receptionist. He pointed over to
me, and she looked a little concerned. I saw her pick up the
clipboard that I had my information on it, and she started writing something else
on it. I asked my dad what he did, and he just said
not to worry and that he wanted to let her know it was urgent.
No more than ten minutes went by and I felt a terrible moving sensation.
I cringed and grabbed my stomach, immediately followed by not just the feeling of
a hand grabbing my insides, but also scratching and pinching. I yelled out
in pain as the other people in the waiting room looked at me mortified.
A doctor and a couple of nurses came running over to me and helped me
up, but I couldn't stand up. I was in too much pain.
They put me in a wheelchair and started to head for a room. However,
they didn't take me through the normal, big er doors that went to
the standard examination rooms. They took my parents and I through a smaller door
to the side that I had a pad lock on it. We walked through
a white hallway that was very quiet. The doctor and nurses showed us to
my room and helped me into my bed. As I was wriggling and wincing,
I had one parent either side of me, patiently waiting to stop my
arms from scratching. The doctor was trying to ask further questions, but he
could tell it wasn't going anywhere. I knew that my dad probably told that
receptionist about my ozyd tendencies that I needed to go to the pside cord,
not just to the standard side of the er. I couldn't take it any
more and blurted out that something was inside my stomach and that it was trying
to get out. The doctor just looked at my parents for a reaction,
and they gave him a sad nod. It was like they warned him that
this could happen. The doctor didn't just think I was crazy. My parents
did too. The doctor took a deep breath and came up to me.
I knew I was about to hear some kind of dumb speech about how this
was just my O c D and everything was going to be okay. As
he came closer to me, I pulled on my shirt and he gasped.
Not only was my stomach scratched a blight crazy, but we saw a movement.
It looked like when a pregnant woman can see a baby kicking, but
this was much stronger. It was stretching my skin. My parents stood up
and gasped, while the doctor looked frantic and unprepared. Damn, damn,
damn, damn, damn, the doctor said, as he backed out of
the room. Hang on, We're getting this taking care of Just hang tight.
Seconds later, a nurse came in to gave me some painkillers. I
started to feel the pain slip away with something so much worse started to creep
in. I heard her voice, not my own, not some creepy sounding
creature, but the voice of a normal sounding man that I'd never heard before.
But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was what he was
saying to me. Get me out, Get me out, Get me out.
It started in a normal tone, but slowly became more urgent and rushed,
then demanding. The voice would coincide with a movement inside me. It
was getting so loud that I was having a hard time hearing the people around
me. The doctor came in just a few minutes after I last saw him.
He was red and sweaty, like he'd just run a marathon. He
told me they needed a zoo, just a few tests and what was inside
me? Before taking action. I was trying so hard to pay attention to
the words coming out of his mouth, but all I could hear was the
voice. The voice stopped for just a second and changed what he was saying.
Now he was repeating, cut me out, cut me out, cut
me out now. I now knew this thing didn't just want out, but
it wanted out now. I begged the doctor to just get it out now,
but he wouldn't listen. The voice spoke up again, this is taking
too long. Don't be afraid. Get me out yourself. I think it
could feel me resisting him without realizing it. I was looking around the room
for something. It was like I didn't have control over my head or eyes.
Anymore. I knew the voice was looking for a knife, but I
was trying to ignore the feeling. I knew there weren't any knives around.
I was in a very safe place. Just as I had the feeling I
was safe, it was immediately taken away. The thought passed through my head
that my dad probably had a pocket knife on him. My heart sank.
I knew this thing could hear my thoughts. I knew what it would try
to do. The next thing I knew. I was on my feet leaping
for my dad. My body it is luckily it's in pretty good shape for
his age, and had no problem putting me in my place. He got
on top of me and pinned me to the ground. All the while I
could barely hear my mom in the background yelling at my dad to be careful.
My dad knew something was going on and that I just needed to be
on the ground until I calmed down. My body tried to flail, but
it wasn't successful. The whole time, the voice in my head now yelling
and screaming, not saying any distinguishable words, but just having what felt like
a tantrum. What made my dad the most uncomfortable was the kicking feeling coming
from my stomach. After a couple of minutes, the voice calmed down and
I felt in charge of my body again. My dad slowly got up and
attempted to help me up, at this point with an audience of hospital staff
that looked like they were getting ready to take me somewhere for more tests.
Just as I stood up, I felt the voice take over and I lost
all sense of my own body. I felt like a shell of myself.
My dad gave me a soft, yet worried smile, and in that instance,
I grabbed him and reached into his pocket. My heart sank as I
felt his pocket knife. The room started to panic and about five people tried
to grab it from me. The last thing I remember is plunging the knife
into my stomach. I felt a blinding pain and everything went black. Several
hours later, I started to wake up. Everything was extremely blurry and fuzzy.
I could hear a faint voice telling me to relax. As the minutes
passed by, things started to get a little bit clearer. I looked around
and saw I was in a large room with a few other patients. A
nurse was going up to all the beds and checking in on them. I
tried to sit up a bit to get more comfortable. I moved my hospital
gown out of the way and saw a huge scar about six inches across.
Most of the scar looked very surgical, like what i'd imagine sea section surgery
would look like, except where I remember the knife going in. It looked
like a bunch of extra stitches had to be added where it went in.
It also looked pretty bruised. I can imagine that a dull ten year old
knife that was harshly shoved into a body really wouldn't clean cut through and leave
some damage. The feeling of shock from looking at my stomach was quickly gone
when I realized that meant whatever was in me was now gone. I didn't
hear the voice, I didn't feel a hand in my gun anymore. I
didn't see that vile kicking anymore. I felt like I could breathe. I
asked the nurse what they found, and she looked flush. Ah, that's
something that you are. Your doctor will talk to you once you eat something
and can speak clearly, she said as she scurried off, looking upset.
Shortly after that, I was wheeled into a recovery room and my parents came
to see me. As they walked in, they had a very similar look
on their faces as the nurse did. They looked pale and didn't want to
look me in the eyes. I kept asking them questions about what was going
on, but they said the doctor needed to discuss it with me and he
wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling high from the anesthesia. While we had
the conversation, the doctor didn't come and see me for another ten hours,
which felt strange. And to add to the strangeness, my parents were taking
shifts hanging out with me. There was only overlap when they switched and the
other parent took over while the other one left the room. I would understand
if they weren't both with me for the whole time. I'm not that needy,
but they were only both in the room together for about an hour.
That was the hour before the doctor came to my room. Finally, the
doctor came in to talk to me. When he walked in, the room
was cold and quiet. It was evident he didn't feel the same relief I
was feeling. He seemed awkward, like he was taking way too long to
get over to me, He grabbed a chair and scooted it close to me.
Listen, Sam, I know this last twenty four hours has been very
challenging. I apologize for not explaining what happened during your surgery sooner, but
we all needed time to figure it out and quite frankly, process what happened.
We feel we have enough information to let you in on what is going
on. Silence filled the room. I felt like no one was brave enough
to break it, and I asked with confusion, I think it'll be easier
if we just show you. The doctor, along with my parents, helped
me into a wheelchair and we started to make a way across the hospital to
an entirely different section. I couldn't believe all the things running through my head
at what we were about to see. It felt like cruel and unusual punishment
to leave me in anticipation and not just tell me what I was about to
see. When I went around the corner, I couldn't process what I was
looking at. I thought they were showing me a large tumor or growth of
some kind. Why would a tumor be in a big incubation chamber with tubes
connected to ivs and machines coming out of it. As I got closer,
I started to see human features on it. It was mostly just a six
foot lump of flesh, but I could see a hand sticking out of it.
It was small, but what made it creepy because it looked like a
fully developed man's hand, just small. I could see a patch of hair
coming out of what I assumed was its head. It had no discernible facial
features, just a few teeth scattered in one section. As I looked at
it with disgust, coming to terms with this thing, I was just in
my body, I had a realization I wasn't feeling sick at the thought of
something being in my body. Sure, I was grossed out that this particular
thing was just in me, with the thought of bacteria in my body didn't
make me want to throw up. I thought about all the blood pomping through
my veins, and I felt normal. Not only was the voice and kicking
on, but my OCD was gone too. It was just this thing trying
to find its way out for years. As I was staring at the creature,
the doctor came and put his hand on my shoulder. We believe this
is your twin brother. I immediately looked up on my parents, who looked
very disturbed and upset. I let the doctor finish talking. We believe that
you absorbed him in the womb, and that he's been living inside you your
whole life. This is an extremely rare condition called vetus and fetu. It
seems he didn't quite have the best opportunity to develop normally. That's why he
looks the way he does despite his appearance. He has all the organs he
needs to survive. Looks like he's missing a lung and his gall bladder,
also a bit of his liver, but other than that, it looks like
he will live for at least a few years. He won't be able to
leave this room due to him needing a feeding tube and a few other things
that his body cannot do on its own. He needs a lot of support
just to live. What makes this situation extremely unique is that your twin is
still alive despite your body not sustaining him anymore. Even though we have him
hugged up to a few ivs and machines. It is unexplainable how he is
living outside of your body. I was in complete shock. I didn't want
to believe it. I asked my mom why she never told me I absorbed
to my twin in the womb, and she said she had no clue.
There was never a sign when she was pregnant with me. He also mentioned
that sometimes, even in pregnancies, women will go their whole pregnancy without even
getting a belly. It's called a cryptic pregnancy. I've always had a bit
of a gut, but never anything big enough to cause suspicion. I guess
in my case, I had a fetus feed too, and an experienced similar
to cryptic pregnancy, even though it was in my stomach. At least,
that was the doctor's best guess. Although it all sounded like bs to me,
the doctor or my parents kept trying to explain more and more details to
me. I don't know why they didn't slow down a little bit for my
sake. How could they not tell I wasn't processing any of this. I
noticed something while they were trying to explain things to me. I kept calling
it. He Now, listen, I'm not some kind of asshole who won't
respect someone who wants to be called a specific pronoun. I've never been that
kind of person. But this is where I draw the line. Not just
that, but this thing had a name. My parents named it and said
it was his birthday. While they told me all this information, he didn't
look happy about it. It seemed like they were forced to do all this
nonsense, and now it was my turn to be convinced. I could tell
they were trying to force it. The doctor told me, despite it not
having a high probability for a long life, that we should still try and
give it all the love it deserves. Of course, the doctor referred to
it as a he, but I refuse to. This thing disgusted me.
This thing tried to kill me and ruined my quality of life for so long,
and now, oh, we're going to treat it like it's some kind
of prince. No, absolutely not. Luckily, it seemed like it would
never leave the hospital, but my parents planned on going to visit it daily,
visiting it. Are you kidding me? It has no eyes, no
ears, It's probably miserable, and has no concept of people even being around
it. I'm refusing to ever see this thing again or acknowledge its existence.
I could get in trouble for even talking about this. The hospital or anyone
involved has signed NDAs to not share any information about this until it officially dies.
This is because it's a medical anomaly and the first of its kind.
They want to do the proper research and how this all occurred before coming out
with a statement. I just have to get this all off my chest.
I feel like I'm the crazy one here when I know I'm not. I
don't care if I get in trouble. I'm scared that the doctors are trying
to force my parents into giving this thing a proper life. I think that's
why it took them so long to tell me. I think they scared my
parents into keeping it alive and guilting them, or even forcing them into being
its parents. I'm all for every life being important and all that stuff,
but I have a feeling my parents are terrified of this thing, just like
I am. I'm convinced they gasped at my parents into believing this thing is
my brother. If there wasn't any sign of him while my mom was pregnant
with me, could this thing be something else. This all happened about two
years ago. It's still alive and they're still researching it. My parents continue
to visit it despite everythings told me that I'm probably just struggling with jealousy now
that I'm not an only child anymore, and so much are my parents's attention
is on him now. But it's so much bigger than just jealousy. Since
this thing showed up and my OCD is pretty much gone, I've hardly seen
my parents. I know I'm not just jealous. There is something more to
this, I know it. Something just feels off about this whole thing.
What is this thing? Where did it come from? And what does it want