Questions And Answers

Nothing too bad, just incredibly stupid. I now think back and find it pretty funny. Apparently, eye injuries are fairly common.  When I was going for a post-op follow-up appointment, there was an older kid there because of a paintball accident.  That is probably why everyone in the movie A Christmas Story told Ralphie he was going to shoot his eye out. Chapter 13 I woke up to my mom rubbing my back.  I rolled onto my back and looked up at my mom.  My mom said, “Good morning Will, the nurse will be here in a little bit to start your morning feeding and weigh and measure you.  I want to change you before she gets here.” My first thought was why do I need to be changed, then as I was fully waking up, I could tell that my diaper was swollen and it was pushing my legs apart.  With a shocked look on my face, I said, “I didn’t realize that I wet myself.” I could see my mom’s facial expressions soften, and then she said, “It's OK, sweetheart.  You have the body of a two-and-a-half to three-year-old.  You will probably wet the bed every night like you did before at that age.” I just nodded my head and thought about how I hadn’t wet the bed since I was six.  My mom pulled the covers back, then picked me up and repositioned me on the bed to make it easier to change me.  I could then see my dad come into view over me and he handed my mom a diaper and wipes.  He looked down at me and with a smile said, “Good morning, Will.” I simply replied, “Morning.” My mom pushed my gown up to my chest, then I could hear her ripping the tapes open.  She started wiping the front of me and it still felt weird, but at least I was mentally prepared for the difference.  She lifted my lower half by my ankles, then wiped my bottom.  I then felt myself being lowered onto a new diaper.  She quickly taped the diaper up and balled up the old one with the used wipes inside.  My gown was pulled back down, I was moved back to laying with my head on the pillow, and the covers were pulled back up.  While holding my dirty diaper in one hand my mom started raising the bed and said, “I want to try and stay upright a little more today if you can.” I just nodded my head as I was raised to an almost sitting position but the bed was supporting most of my weight.  My mom had to grab the pillow to keep it from falling and I watched as she walked over to throw the used diaper away.  I turned my attention to the TV and could see that my dad was watching the news.  I started to pay close attention to see what I missed when I was in a coma, but it looked like they were talking about the same things as always, just the details were different.  About 30 minutes into watching the news, I see Abby walk in pushing a cart.  As she was hanging a feeding bag, she looked down at me and with a smile, said, “Good morning, Will, how are you feeling today?” I said, “OK.” As she was connecting my feeding tube to the bag and giving me a syringe of nausea medicine, all I could think about was why was everyone so overly cheerful and smiling at me.  I couldn’t decide if it was because of my reaction to everything and they were trying to make me feel better, or was it because I looked like a small child and they were having a disconnect between the toddler that they saw and the adult that they know I am.  As much as it pained me to admit it, when I saw myself last night in the mirror being held by my mom, all I could see looking back at me was a cute toddler. My thoughts were interrupted by Abby saying, “Will, I’m going to weigh and measure you.” I just nodded my head and was thinking how she was going to do it.  My question was answered when she picked me up out of bed with one hand supporting my upper back, the other supporting my diapered bottom, and laid me down on a baby scale that was sitting on top of the cart.  I did my best to not blush at the infantile method that Abby had to use on me.  She pushed my feet up against the end of the scale to where my feet were flat.  I could then feel a thin, flat piece of metal touch the top of my head that was slid into place.  She then said, “Twenty-seven pounds and five ounces, and thirty-six and three-quarters inches.” She then picked me back up and sat me back down in bed.  She stated, “I will be back in a little bit to flush your feeding tube, do you need anything?” I just shook my head no and she walked out pushing the cart.  I started watching the TV again, but within 20 minutes I felt the intense need to poop and pee.  I turned to my parents and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.” My mom got up and took a seat on my bed and said, “Will, I know I haven’t told you yet, since all the times before were accidents, but until you get better you’re just going to have to go in your diaper.  I will change you whenever you need it and if it is just pee, you should still feel dry since those are nighttime diapers you are wearing.” My eyes got as large as saucers at the thought of pooping myself on purpose.  Moments later, the decision was made for me as my body began to push out wave after wave of semi-solid poop into the back of my diaper.  My bladder released too, and the front of my diaper began to warm as I peed myself.  I grimaced as I could feel the poop work its way up the front of my diaper and cover my privates.  A minute later, my mom asked, “Are you done going?” All I could do was nod yes and hang my head in shame.  She gently picked me up and laid me down.  Once my gown was out of the way, she untapped my diaper, and when the front was lowered down, I almost wanted to gag at the smell.  She made quick work and used an ungodly amount of wipes to clean me up.  I was quickly tapped up into a clean diaper and placed back into a sitting position in bed and my foul diaper was thrown away.  She then walked back over, caressed my cheek with her hand, and kissed me on the forehead.  She looked me in the eyes and said, “I know this is hard on you, but you have nothing to be embarrassed about.  Once you get better, we can work on trying to re-potty train you. OK.” I looked down at my lap and in a quiet voice, I said, “OK.” She gave me another kiss on the forehead and took a seat in the recliner beside me.  I cringed at the thought of potty training.  All I could do was picture myself sitting on a plastic potty with a pull-up around my ankles and my parents praising me for making it to the “potty” in time as any normal toddler could do.  But I’m not a toddler, I’m supposed to be an adult, and not just an adult, but an adult male, not a toddler girl.  Would I need to wear girl pull-ups?  Before I could go any deeper down the rabbit hole of potty training, I saw Abby and Dr. Cameron walk in. Dr. Cameron greeted, “Good Morning, Will, how are you feeling?” As Abby was flushing my feeding tube, I said, “I’m OK.” “That’s good to hear, I am going to give you a test in a little bit to see how your brain is doing.  I see that you are sitting up, have you tried sitting up unassisted yet?” she asked. My mom quickly butted in and said, “He was able to sit up by himself yesterday for a little bit.” With a smile, Dr. Cameron said, “That’s wonderful news, one thing I would like for you to do a few times a day is to sit up on your own for as long as you can to help build up your core strength.  Can you give it a try for me?” I nodded yes as I saw Abby walking back out of the room.  Dr. Cameron beside me on the bed and after setting down the tablet in her hand, she helped me up to a full upright position.  With one hand in front of my chest to keep me from toppling over, she let go of me.  I was surprised that it was easier than yesterday, but I still felt like I was giving the same effort as trying to do a plank.  At about 5 minutes into it, my core muscles were starting to quiver again, and after another couple of minutes straining with all my might, I fell forward into Dr. Cameron’s hand.  She gently pushed me back to where the bed was supporting me and in a cheery voice said, “Good job Will, that was fantastic.” Out of breath, I just nodded.  After a few deep breaths, I saw Dr. Cameron grab her tablet, and then asked, “Are you ready to take a test?” After a brief pause, I asked, “Could you explain to me how all this happened?  I know Dr. Taub did, but I zoned out during most of it then freaked out.” She said, “Certainly, Will.” I could see her scrolling on her tablet then she said, “Alright, the genes that we determined that were mutated were your 3p26, 6q25, 7q36, 9p1, 9q34, 12p11, 12q, 13q32, Xq24-25, and SRY.” “How did I get all these gene mutations?” I asked. “We think it happens when your cells undergo mitosis, this is when your cells divide to replace old ones.   There is an important process during the interphase when all your DNA is being replicated.  This is called the G1-S checkpoint.  This checkpoint checks for any problems in your DNA and stops the cell from dividing if there is a problem.  In your case, it did not catch the mutated genes and allowed for the cell to divide.  Over time, more and more of the cells in your body had this mutation from being replaced.  At some point, enough of your cells carried these genes to where you started to show physical symptoms and changes to your body,” she said. I asked, “Will I get more mutations and why now?” “It seems like your G1-S checkpoint only allows your mutated gene to undergo cell division.  We took some cell samples and grew cultures in a lab, then caused mutations in the cells using UV light and it seems that we could only get the control sample to undergo mitosis.  As far as why now,  It looks like you were born with the issue with your G1-S checkpoint.  It was only a matter of time before the mutations took effect.  A good analogy would be that people who do not die of other causes will get cancer at some point if they live long enough due to DNA damage from the environment.  Does that make sense to you?” she asked. I nodded my head, but then asked, “How do all these mutations cause me to go from an adult guy to basically a toddler girl?” She said, “It looks like the mutations trigger an autoimmune response.  Your body started to pretty much eat itself and attacked your bones and tissue.  Your body also seemed to try and reject any food or water during this process and treated it like food poisoning. That is why you are not able to keep anything down right now.  It uses your tissue and bone cells as substances to sustain you and expel the rest.  As you physically got younger, your limp proportions changed, you stopped producing hormones which caused all your body hair to fall out, and you converted cells into fat cells around your abdomen and in your cheek on your face.  You also had a build-up of more collagen throughout your body that we normally lose as we age.” Taking in a deep breath, she said, “The changes to your reproductive system were unexpected.  We noticed that your testicles accented into your lower abdomen at first.  Then your scrotum, followed by your penis.  As your penis was accenting into your lower abdomen and pelvic region, your urethral moved upwards as a vaginal opening formed.  Through imaging, we were able to see that the tissue from your scrotum formed your uterus and fallopian tubes, and the tissue from your penis formed your vagina.  From samples, we were able to see that the cells from your penis and scrotum were being converted into stem cells to then be converted to the cells needed to form the tissue for your vagina and uterus.  We were also able to see that your testicles degenerated into scar tissue.  Does all this make sense to you?” Thinking for a second, I responded, “I understand what you are saying, but I don’t think it will ever make sense.” With a slight smile, Dr. Cameron said, “That is understandable, you are the first known case of anything like this happening.  Do you have any other questions?” Thinking back to anatomy class, I asked, “Do I still have my prostate?” She responded, “You do still have your prostate, but it is now underdeveloped.  That is one of the big differences between your case and someone born with Swyer Syndrome.  Are you ready to take a test on my tablet?” After being so engrossed in what Dr. Cameron was saying I didn’t notice at first that my joints were starting to ache again.  I asked, “Could I get some pain medicine? My joints are starting to hurt.” She said, “Certainly, I will be right back.” Dr. Cameron walked out of the room and was back moments later with a syringe in hand.  She said, “Will, I don’t want you to get too sleepy during this test, but I also don’t want you to be in pain either.  Is it alright if I just give you a partial dose, then the rest afterward?” I said, “Sure.” She then pushed about a third of the syringe into my I.V.  I could tell that my aching joints were feeling better, but I also wasn’t feeling sleepy.  Dr. Cameron moved the teddy bear that was beside me to the other side and then took a seat in its place.  With the major height difference, she was able to have one arm reach over me and hold the tablet in front of me.  She asked, “Have you ever taken an I.Q. test before?” I simply said, “No.” “Well, it is pretty simple, the test is timed for thirty minutes, and you just need to answer as many questions as you can,” she stated. I said, “OK.” She pressed an icon on the screen, then the test started with a timer in the upper left-hand corner.  I then started answering different questions about patterns, finishing the sequence of numbers, and word association.  They seemed to get harder the further along in the test I got.  With 12 minutes left in the test, I felt the need to pee build up quickly.  Thinking about what my mom said, I started to wet myself with very little effort on my part.  The warming sensation in my diaper caused me to pause for a moment.  Dr. Cameron, seeing me stop, asked, “Is everything alright?” Not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to tell the whole truth, I said, “Uh, I think I just wet myself.” “That is OK, can you wait until the test is over for a change?” she asked. I just nodded and began to answer questions again.  As the test was drawing to a close, it seemed like I was having to do mental gymnastics to answer the questions.  When the timer landed on zero, the test stopped and a new screen popped up with a loading bar and the caption calculating results.  Moments later the number 132 popped up in block letters. Dr. Cameron said, “Wow, you are one smart cookie, your score makes sense since you are in grad school for math. I bet you could have scored higher if you didn’t just wake up from a coma and were feeling a hundred percent.” I could then hear my dad speak up, “Yeah, he was a real smart ass when he was a teenager.” I then saw my mom smack my dad on the shoulder, and I responded, “It's better than being a dumbass,” as I shot him the bird. Looking back at Dr. Cameron, I said, “Maybe, why did I need to take an I.Q. test?” Pausing for a moment with wide eyes at my family’s banter, she caught herself and said, “Since you were in a coma, any MRI of your brain wouldn’t have been very helpful in seeing if this physical regression affected your intelligence.  Now that you are awake, an I.Q. test is the simplest way to tell.” I asked, “Why wasn’t it affected if my brain is so much smaller?” “Intelligence has more to do with the number of synaptic connections in the brain.  Males and females have the same average I.Q. of 100, even though males on average have slightly larger brains.  The number of connections in the brain are more important than the overall size,” she stated.  I nodded, then she said, “I’m going to give you the rest of your pain medicine and let you get some rest.” I responded, “OK.” After injecting me with the rest of the pain medicine, she said, “Someone from the team will come by tomorrow during rounds, you all have a great rest of your day.” My mom responded, “Thank you, Dr. Cameron.” My mom got up and moved the teddy bear back to the other side of me and said, “I'm going to lower your bed back down so that you are comfortable if the medicine makes you sleepy.” I nodded my head and she lowered the bed and placed the pillow back under my head.  After tucking me in, she kissed me on the forehead.  As I was lying in bed contemplating the results from the I.Q. test all I could think about was what has my life become.  What’s the point of being smart if I won't be able to finish school?  I don’t need to be told that it is highly unlikely I will be returning to ASU this coming fall.  How would I even teach, it's not like I can reach the chalkboard now.  I can’t ride a bike to school anymore or live on my own.  How would I even cook for myself?  Who would even take a toddler seriously?  My last thought as I fell asleep was, ‘Who am I supposed to be now?’ I woke back up sometime later and looked over at my parents to see they were watching TV.  I tried to squeeze my legs together but was stopped by my now swollen diaper.  All I could think was ‘Great’; best case scenario, I won’t need diapers when I’m awake and have easy access to a bathroom, but would need my parents to diaper me anytime I need to sleep for the rest of my life.  Then I started thinking about how I would need help to go to the bathroom.  Anytime I needed to go in public I would have to be taken to the restroom like a small child.  Diapers or not, either way, seems undignified to me. My mom noticed that I was awake, came and sat on the bed, and asked, “Did you sleep well?” I just nodded my head.  She then asked, “Do you need a diaper change?” as she squeezed the front of my diaper through the covers. I just nodded my head and bit my lower lip at the loss of autonomy over my own body.  After pulling the covers back, she positioned me to change my diaper as my dad handed her a clean diaper and wipes.  A couple of minutes later, I was in a dry diaper and lying back in my normal position in bed. After throwing away my wet diaper and washing her hands, she came and sat back down on my bed and said, “Will, are you up to work on sitting up on your own again?” I nodded my head again, not really wanting to, but knowing that I needed to and to just get it over with.  She lifted me into a sitting position slowly let go and kept her hands in front of me, ready to catch me if I toppled over.  While I found each time that I worked on sitting up easier, I felt like an infant with their mother working on developmental milestones.  The diaper change beforehand did not help either in that regard.  I seemed to last longer sitting up, but eventually, my body gave up, and my mom had to catch me and lay me back down. While catching my breath, my mom said, “You are doing great, honey.” Feeling dejected, I didn’t even respond and just turned over on my side, facing away from both my parents.  My mom started rubbing my back and gingerly asked, “Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?” I remained quiet and didn’t respond.  My mom continued, “Talking about whatever is troubling you will make you feel better.  I know you probably think that your life is over, but it is not.  Things will be different for you but the story is not over.  God still has a plan for you.” Hearing my mom's last words struck a raw, exposed nerve within me.  With tears of frustration and anger welling in my eyes, I turned and looked at my mom and shouted, “Fuck God and fuck his plan.  He turned me into a freak of nature.  I’m supposed to be an adult man, not a goddamn toddler girl!” Anger quickly turned into sorrow and despair as fat tears began to pour down my face.  In a quiet voice, I said, “I don’t even know who I am supposed to be anymore.”  After a sob escaped me, I said, “What future do I have other than daycare and shitting myself.” With those last words, heavy sobs begin to rack my body.  My mom quickly picked me up and held me tightly in her arms.  I clung to her shirt and buried my face into her shoulder as she slowly rubbed my back.  Her shirt became dreaded in my snot and tears as I cried out all my anger, frustration, sorrow, and sadness at the world.  Eventually, my bowels erupted and as the back of my diaper filled, I began to cry even harder at my own self-fulfilling prophecy. After a few minutes and my crying subsided somewhat, my mom gently laid me down and kissed me on my tear-soaked cheek.  I just stared at the ceiling as I continued to sob uncontrollably.  I see my dad come into view above and as my mom started to change my dirty diaper, he leaned down and after kissing me on the forehead, he said, “Will, we would never put you in daycare.  If you haven’t forgotten, I’m retired and we will just spend time together until we figure out something for you to do.  You are one of the smartest people that I know and if you set your mind on something, you will find a way to accomplish it,” as he was running his fingers through my hair. I could hear his words and knew that they were true, but at that moment they still felt hollow to me.  He then grabbed a washcloth and wiped my face of all the snot and tears, but it was only temporary as more snot and tears leaked out of me.  My mom finished changing my diaper and as she was handing my dad my used diaper and changing supplies, my dad handed her a towel.  She draped it over her stained shirt from my tears, then picked me back up.  With me in her arms, she lay down in my bed.  I laid on top of her with my head resting on her upper chest covered by the towel to soak up all my tears.  She gently kissed me on the top of my head and began to rub my back with one hand and pat my bottom with the other.  My dad laid a blanket over the both of us.  Still lightly sobbing, I cried myself to sleep minutes later.

Lord of the Lost - One Last Song (Official Video)   

When you're comfy and gotta pee real bad but don't want to get out of bed ... but you know your diaper is already at saturation point.

Between Myrtleford and bright🤷‍♂️👍

Seed