diaper dimension The Biggest Little - Hiatus

[Moon3ye]

56 minutes ago, Jayme said:

Interesting chapter. Hospitals give many people the creeps anywhere. I really hate them myself so I know how she is feeling right about now.

 

Interesting statement. I know from many stories this fear of hospitals and mostly the authors of this story are from the USA.

Are your hospitals/doctors so bad that you are not treated properly there and are therefore afraid or is it the fear of the bill because something like a health insurance system as it is perfectly normal in e.g. Germany is considered evil?

Where does the fear come from? Alone I was in the last 2.5 years 3 times at least 1 week in the hospital and about 5 times for a day. I am not afraid of it because I know that the people who work there are all intelligent and well-educated people.

What are you afraid of. I would be really interested to know.

[Jayme]

9 hours ago, Moon3ye said:

Interesting statement. I know from many stories this fear of hospitals and mostly the authors of this story are from the USA.

Are your hospitals/doctors so bad that you are not treated properly there and are therefore afraid or is it the fear of the bill because something like a health insurance system as it is perfectly normal in e.g. Germany is considered evil?

Where does the fear come from? Alone I was in the last 2.5 years 3 times at least 1 week in the hospital and about 5 times for a day. I am not afraid of it because I know that the people who work there are all intelligent and well-educated people.

What are you afraid of. I would be really interested to know.

I have a fear of needles. I had a bad experience where someone was trying to draw blood and pierced both sides of the vein 7 times with the same needle, also some doctors don't want to do proper tests and immediately assume it's psychosychematic (spelling?), or "all in your head", Due to genetic issues. Another issue when I was was young I spent 5and a half hours strapped to a spinal board after a bicycle accident... Not fun times.

[Guilend]

I think this is going to be an awesome story in the end. I can’t wait for more. 

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Chapter 5

 

The squeak of a chair woke me up.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you”. Alex sat on my right hand side. Clutching a stuffed purple unicorn to her chest.

 

“I asked the nurse what I could get you. She said no food or liquids, but that the stuffed animal would be okay. It’s hypoallergenic and sterilized, so it’s safe for the ER”. Not my primary concern, but it’s clear she put in some thought.

 

“I um, it’s not to make fun of you”. She quickly stammers out.

 

“I just thought you might like a friend. I can return her if you want”. The embarrassment on her face makes me want to wince.

 

“No, I like it. Thanks”. A trip to the hospital is pretty much the one occasion where it is socially acceptable for an adult to get stuffed animals. Plus, it’s super cute. 

 

She gently places the unicorn on my chest and I squeeze it with one arm.

 

“So, what’s her name?” she asks with childlike enthusiasm. 

 

This is not the conversation I imagined myself having, but it’s nice. It’s been too long since I’ve just chatted with her. My own best friend, reduced to just a roommate. I missed this.

 

“Why does it have to be a she. Unicorns can be boys as well, or something else entirely if they want”. I retorted.  Which was far better suited to a playground than a hospital.

 

“I guess she could be a he, or a they. I don’t know, she seemed like a she to me”. A smile spreads across her face.

 

“Pokey. Her name is Pokey”. The stuffed bear I had as a kid I named bear. So Pokey the unicorn is at least one step up.

 

“With a name like Pokey, I would have guessed a boy”. She jokes back. Tapping the top of Pokey’s horn.

 

“Girls can poke things too. It’s the modern era after all”. Both of us giggle like school girls.

 

We sit in silence for a minute; only interrupted by the sounds of the machines around us.

 

“You should go back to sleep. You look exhausted. Don’t worry, I don’t mind”.  The concern is evident in her voice.

 

She starts to get up when I grab her arm.

 

“No. It’s alright. The doctor should be here soon. Plus I wanted to talk”. Want might be a stretch. Need is more accurate.

 

“Are you sure? Like I said before, I’m not mad. We don’t have to have this conversation now if you don’t want to. It can wait as long as needed”. Please don’t give me an out like that.

 

“No. I would rather get this over with. Otherwise I’m going to continue to come up with increasingly dire hypotheticals”. They certainly feel realistic. I mean look literally anywhere. The only ones I see wearing diapers are also not allowed to tie their shoes.

 

“I understand. You can say as much or as little as you want. I really don’t know much about it, but I want to be supportive”. People being ‘supportive’ is what I am worried about.

 

“It’s just that I’ve worried for so long about what I would say if you ever found out. I always pictured it as some shouting match where I get kicked out”. Something I have experience with.

 

“Shhh. You’ve known me long enough to know I would never kick you out. Especially not without a chance to explain yourself”. She said soothingly, as she brushed hair out of my face.

 

Two sharp knocks draw our attention. A tall (even for an Amazon) woman is in the entryway, wearing a lab coat, a stethoscope around her neck, and carrying a clipboard.

 

“Sorry to interrupt. Seems like one of you fainted and I need to figure out which it is”. The woman said in a dead serious tone.  Am I being pranked?

 

“Um, me”. I raise my non IV arm up.

 

“Of course. It’s normally the one in the bed. Although, it’s more fun when it’s not”. She and she alone cracks a smile.

 

“Uh, I can go if you want me to” Alex asks, clearly as off balance from the situation as me.

 

“Sure, it’s probably just some boring medical stuff”. At least I saved one of us.

 

“I know I can’t get you anything to eat or drink, but if you want something else...”. Trailing off as she slowly creeps pasts the curtain

 

“I’m good. Thanks”. Never say I didn’t die the hero.

 

“There’s a cafe on the third floor. It’s good and has a great view of the city. If you haven’t had dinner yet, I recommend the chicken salad sub. And if you are feeling adventurous, tell them Dr Martinez sent you”. She winked at Alex while saying the last part.

 

Taking a seat while she waits for Alex to get out of her earshot, she scoots right next to me.

 

“She seems nice. How long have you two been together?” Not the first time I’ve been asked that.

 

“She’s my roommate”. I reply curtly.

 

“Oh. I made the same mistake with sisters before. Now that was awkward”. Why is she smiling even more?

 

I blink my eyes, hoping she is just a figment of my imagination.

 

“Soooo. Fell and hit your noggin. It happens. You and every senior citizen” Maybe if I stay perfectly still, she won’t see me.

 

“Well, it looks like you don’t have a concussion, but we’ll do a CT scan just to be sure”. The whiplash when she starts acting like a real doctor is enough to make my brain hurt.

 

“I looked at your EKG, as well as blood and urine. You had some minor dehydration. However the real culprit was low blood sugar, as well as a host of related issues”. What other issues?

 

“I’ll give you the full details later, once I’ve had a chance to write it up, but no organ damage or anything too serious”. The mention that organ damage was even on the table is difficult to hear.

 

“The whole ‘Not eating enough’ thing, you seeing someone for that?” What?

 

“What?”. I vocalize, as my internal monologue becomes external.

 

“These papers don’t say that you skipped a meal today, they say you’ve been skipping a lot of meals for some time. With too much exercise added on top. So, are you seeing anyone for that?” Asked with significantly more force than before.

 

“Not really”. Do internet chat rooms count?

 

“Not really as in no, right? That’s okay. A social worker is going to swing by tomorrow, they’ll go over resources and people who can help”. A don’t want to be a case for a social worker. I just want to go home.

 

“How about playing surgeon with your thighs? Got anyone helping you with that?” Where did she learn her bedside manner?

 

I shake my head in reply.

 

“Social worker will cover that too”. I am not looking forward to talking with this social worker.

 

“Have any of your cuts gotten infected or required stitches?” asked with the tone one might use for such serious topics as ‘paper or plastic?’.

 

“No. I’ve had to superglue a few closed, but nothing more than that”. I felt clever at the time. Getting the glue off, now that’s another story.

 

“I’m telling you this for reference, as I know you're never going to do this again, but if a cut doesn’t stay closed by itself, is deeper than the epidermis, that's the first layer of skin, or even hints about being infected, you go straight to an urgent care or a hospital. No exceptions. No excuses. Is that clear?” Her eyes burrow into me as she makes her point.

 

I feel like I’m in the principal's office in grade school. She is only a little taller than me, but I might as well be one foot high.

 

I give a weak nod in response.

 

“Your roommate has a good eye. The unicorn is my favorite we have here”. She runs her hand through Pokey’s mane.

 

“What’s their name?” How is the women who made a joke about incest not two minutes ago, having this conversation with me?

 

“Pokey”. Please don’t make a joke.

 

“That’s a good name, the best I would have come up with is Purple or Unicorn”. Our brains are too similar for comfort.

 

“You know, we have cases like yours come through here somewhat regularly. One thing is constant. You’re not accomplishing what you think you are. You hurt people, but not the ones you mean to. You hurt yourself, but not in the way you wanted. You give ammo to your enemies, and drop bombs on friends. It’s a bad tactic. I’ve held the hands of friends and family when I have to tell them that their loved one isn’t going to wake up, when they need a heart transplant but will never be accepted on any list, when there is nothing left to do but say their goodbyes. You better be damn sure that’s exactly what you want before it is picked for you. Is that clear?”. She glares at me the way a magnifying glass looks at an ant, before setting it ablaze.

 

Nodding my head takes all the willpower I have left.

 

“Take a deep breath. It helps. I know you're scared and a lot has happened, but I have a few more questions, and I need you to be honest. Okay?” her tone softening as she flips through her clipboard.

 

“Okay”. I try (unsuccessfully) to suppress the quaver in my voice.

 

“Any suicidal thoughts?” There’s no judgment in her voice, just concern.

 

“No”. I don’t know why I lied. Habit I guess.

 

“Eating disorder and self harm, I would be surprised if you aren’t dealing with some amount of suicidal thoughts or impulses. You're not in trouble, just making sure we get you all the help you need. So, any suicidal thoughts?” I pull Pokey under my chin.

 

“Some. But I can handle it”. I don’t even manage to convince myself.

 

“Any plans or preparation?”. She kindly withholds any comment about my previous answer.

 

“Um. Some pills. I ordered them online, but I don’t know if they work. But I wasn’t going to take them. It’s just nice to have a plan B you know?”. It felt smart at the time, but I can’t believe I went that far.

 

“Thank you for being honest. I’ll give the social worker a heads up, and put you on a fifteen minute watch. That’s not a punishment, and it shouldn’t feel like one”. She sounds like a school teacher counseling a class about having to miss recess.

 

“I can see your eyes searching the ceiling so I know you saw the camera. That’s to keep you safe, but it also means you can relax. No matter what, while you are here, you are safe, even from yourself. No coming up with plans B through Z. No seeing what you can get away with. You can stop your scheming, because we have seen it all before. Okay?” Tears start to form in my eyes.

 

“Okay” I mumble as I try to get deeper under what counts for covers.

 

“I know you’re tired and had a long day, so I’m only going to hold you for a minute longer”. Good, I don’t think I can hold it together for more than a minute.

 

“First, we will be giving you some medicine. A nurse will be in later with a list as well as some paperwork explaining it. Please ask them if you have any questions”. Checking off something on her clipboards as she goes.

 

“Second. Is there anything else I should know? I don’t care how embarrassing or uncomfortable it may be. I’ve been a physician in this department for three years. I have seen everything and in everywhere. Now is there something you should tell me?”. The hard edge returns to her voice as I squirm.

 

I turn crimson as I think of what caused all of this.

 

“Your expression and silence is telling me there is something. So you can either tell me now, or I can have a nurse look you over with a fine tooth comb, and I don’t think you want that”. Oh please no.

 

“It.. It’s nothing, just something very personal that surprised me. It’s the reason I fainted”. More the straw that broke the camel's back.

 

“Okay. I’m going to trust you that it really is nothing. If it starts to become something, you’ll tell me. Right?”. Never.

 

Nod

 

“Good. Lastly I wanted to tell you to press the call button if you need anything. You seem a bit shy, and some people make their stay much less comfortable than necessary because they don’t want to be a bother. We are here to help, and that extends beyond just medicine”. Am I really that transparent? Well, after the last few minutes I guess so.

 

“Alright. CT Scan is going to be in a few hours at the soonest. So say goodnight to your friend and get some sleep till then”. Pushing back her chair, she turns to leave.

 

Pausing mid step, she turns to face me again.

 

“You know, I’m putting my time and effort into keeping you alive and healthy, and my team is doing the same. I expect you to respect that. So if you feel yourself needing to do something that puts that work in jeopardy, you tell us, even if it’s after you leave. No one will be mad. It takes a lot of guts to accept help, and I know you can do it. No one here or anyone elsewhere worth a damn is going to think less of you for it”. Walking out of the room, leaving me a shell of my former self.

 

Like pulling on a loose thread, she untangled all the bullshit and lies I had been telling myself, and laid it bare. No defenses left to raise, or stubborn pride to hold onto. Just me and the tatters of the mask I had mistaken for my face.

 

What do you do when everything you are comes apart? I cried until my eyes were as empty as my chest.

 

---

 

Nuzzling Pokey brought some comfort as I waited for Alex to come back. Willing myself to stay awake while trying to dry my tears.

 

Alex peaks her head around the curtain. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her sleeves are damp, and she looks like she has aged a year since I last saw her.

 

“What happened? Is everything okay?” I exclaim, trying to sit up right.

 

“What? Oh. Ya. I’m fine. It’s just that I tried her recommendation and it was super spicy. I washed my face a couple of times, but I guess I still look like a mess”. She starts laughing, which makes her hiccup, which creates a feedback loop.

 

I laugh with her till my chest hurts. I don’t know if it’s the emotional toll, or just being plain tired, but I couldn’t imagine anything funnier.

 

“How about you? Was the doctor that mean? She seemed funny”. She thought that was funny?

 

“No, she was fine. Just some hard truths to accept. Nothing too serious, but a wake up call nonetheless”. ‘Hard truths’ is an understatement.

 

“Good. I’m glad it helped. You should really go to bed. I came back expecting you to be asleep. I just wanted to check on you before leaving” The next time she’s sick, I’m going to dote on her back even more.

 

“Wait. I need to clear the air. I don’t like having this between us, and I don’t want it to fester”. I’ve tried to have this conversation in some form at least twice, I’m not going to bed without finishing this.

 

“Nothing will change between now and tomorrow morning. Just go to sleep”. She pats my hand.

 

“Please, I’ll be quick”. I plead.

 

“Fine. You have five minutes. After that I’m grabbing a nurse to put you under”. At this point, the nurse would probably side with her.

 

I looked out into the corridor. I don’t think I want to see her face for this.

 

“They make me feel safe. That things are going to be okay. I know it’s silly, but they make me happy. I don’t expect you to understand, I don’t really myself, but whenever I wear one I feel whole”. I’ve cried too much for one day, I don’t have any left.

 

“You’re right. I don’t understand, but I don’t need to. If it matters to you, it matters to me”. What did I do to ever deserve such a good friend?

 

“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before. It’s just that I could risk it. Not with this. I barely had a chance as it is, and I was worried I would lose you and it”. I’m a coward.

 

“Is this why you never come out with us on Friday? You could have just asked me anytime and I would have given you the apartment. You didn’t need a reason. You don’t need to be isolated”. I’m even more of an idiot than I thought.

 

“I’m an idiot”. You said it brain. 

 

“No, I am. I’ve been so busy with my own little world, that I didn’t notice what was happening in yours. It wasn’t until I cleaned your room that I noticed how far we’ve drifted apart. I live with you and didn’t know that you were hurting this bad. Sorry I'm a lousy friend”. It’s not fair that I’m hurting her, even now.

 

“You know, I’m glad this happened. Not you getting a hurt, but getting all of this out in the open, and getting you help before it got worse”. She leans across and gives me a hug.

 

I wrap an arm around her, with Pokey being sandwiched in the middle.

 

“Go to sleep Amy. I’ll be by your side until you do, and will be here first thing in the morning when you wake up”. She smiles as I close my eyes.

 

You know, in a way, I’m glad this happened too.

[Guilend]

Lots of feels in this one. I suffer from clinical depression and suicidal ideation. So I totally get where Amy is coming from. ❤️Great chapter. 

[Jayme]

I definitely can understand how Amy feels, it may be possible that there are more who can relate to Amy than will openly admit it as well. You definately have a way of bringing your characters to life and making us readers empathize with them. Please continue to share your wonderful story with us here.

[TerranV]

That got heavy...

Great chapter.

[Bonsai]

It feels real and at the same time surreal.

Sometimes I get the suspicion that large radius screening campaigns for early detection of persons at risk of self harming are purposefully avoided because... they would discover too many people struggling with this issues to cure them all.

The current policy is apparently to speak as less as possible about it, maybe because knowing it’s so normal and widespread would encourage even more people to experiment with it.

[Guilend]

I am absolutely in love with this story. ❤️

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Hey,

Just a notice that the next chapter is going to be delayed.

The story is not cancelled, however I'm on-call at work for the next week, which tends to take over my life.

Thanks

[Guilend]

15 minutes ago, TestAccountPleaseIgnore said:

Hey,

Just a notice that the next chapter is going to be delayed.

The story is not cancelled, however I'm on-call at work for the next week, which tends to take over my life.

Thanks

That’s okay. You already wrote so much in a short amount of time. ❤️

[Guilend]

I hope you’re doing better with work and all. 

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Chapter 6

 

Hospitals suck.

 

Except for the whole healing people part, I would say everything about them sucks (And except for lack of funds, I’m a millionaire).

 

There is the often bemoaned food (which I smartly bypassed by eating with my arm).

 

The smell of disinfectants hangs heavy like mustard gas. Strong enough to prevent the needed relief that nose blindness would bring (anosmia if I ever wanted to go to a trivia night).

 

The sound of footsteps and machines is ever present. Punctuated by cries and whimpers of anguish.

 

Light permeates through the semi translucent curtain, bathing the room in a distinctly artificial glow.

 

All these elements combine to make one thing abundantly clear. This is a hostile place, and I do not belong. While the ER may suffer the worst of it, nowhere within its borders is truly safe from its horrors.

 

It is of little surprise that I’m awake when it was time for my CT scan, having only been truly asleep for the briefest of moments. Staring blankly, waiting for oblivion, or at least a temporary diversion (No, I’m not melodramatic).

 

The procedure itself is rather anticlimactic. After having nothing to do but ruminate on its nature, little could have lived up to the expectation. At least I don’t have a concussion. 

 

While I wait for the ever elusive and rarely attended sensation commonly known as sleep, I am left to ponder that greatest and most fearsome of all the hospital’s aspects. Boredom. 

 

If it was the day I could have at least attempted to watch the worst that television has to offer, on a screen from two decades ago, and with speakers which are the modern equivalent to two tin cans and a string. Not that the entertainment would keep pace with the annoyance it brings, but I could have at least tried.

 

My phone and any other personal possessions had been confiscated. I asked a nurse after the procedure about getting it back, but apparently being on suicide watch means that I am incapable of handling electronics without becoming the MacGyver of how to kill myself (MacGyver is another borrowed term from the littles. Apparently it means the ability to rebuild civilization with only a paperclip and a piece of chewing gum).

 

They left Pokey with me thankfully. She has quickly become my second best friend. A step behind my previously only friend. 

 

My mom threw out the few stuffed animals I had as a kid when I went off to college (One of many reasons we don’t speak), and I had been too scared to buy one as an adult. Another thing I had cut myself off from in a misguided attempt to keep a secret. One which I ended up not needing to keep.

 

How much of my life have I spent in the shadow of that fear? Never daring to live, just survive. 

 

The second thing I’ll do once I’m freed is finally buy what I’ve put off getting for almost my entire life. Rumors be damned, I’m getting some real diapers. Not discreet protective undergarments, but actual diapers. I want diapers that I don’t have to even give thought to the idea of leaking through. Ones which are so cute and fluffy, that I can’t help but poke from time to time. The kind that leaves no doubt of its purpose. Those diapers (Please oh please let me keep the confidence to follow through on this).

 

The first thing of course being giving Alex a hug and taking her out to dinner whatever she wants to go. I might have to slip the waiter an early tip to be the one who actually pays, but it will be worth it. She’s worth it.

 

My happy thoughts are interrupted when Jake the night nurse pops his head in.

 

“Still awake” a sympathetic smile forms on his face as he states the obvious for the fifth time in a row.

 

“I let the doctor know. She wants to make sure your vitals are a little more stable before we give you anything for sleep”. I gave up on trying to fudge my vitals after being caught for a second time. 

 

“I can grab your phone if you want to take a peak, but I can’t leave it with you. Sorry”. Everyone here is too nice. It makes it hard to be angry at them, only myself.

 

“No. It’s alright. There’s nothing to check anyways”. I get two phone calls a year, and regret answering both times.

 

“Alright. You can always ask if something comes up”. It won’t.

 

“Why don’t you try closing your eyes for a little bit again. Who knows, it might work”. Definition of insanity and all that.

 

“There is only so long I can appreciate the insides of my eyelids for in a given day”. Trying to repress too much snark is bound to be unhealthy, I’m just being careful.

 

“Alright. Well see you in another fifteen”. And the fifteen after that, on and on, till your shift ends.

 

Closing the curtain, I can hear his footsteps echo in the hallway.

 

While idly stroking Pokey’s mane to pass the time, I am beset by another need. One which a catheter can’t handle.

 

The glow of the restroom sign is dimly visible from my perch. I am probably one hundred feet from salvation, although it might as well be a mile for all the good it will do me.

 

I dismiss out of hand the thought of trying to make it. It would probably look like an escape attempt, and that’s the best case scenario.

 

I wish I had a clock. Not that it would do me any good. I’m not suddenly going to stop being a fall risk in the next hour or so, but at least I would know how long I held out. I’ll ask Jake for the time on his next lap. At least I have that to look forward to.

 

Trying to not think about something is possibly the most counter intuitive thing possible. The more you focus, the worse you do.

 

It’s too dark to count the dots in ceiling tiles again, so I am left with what I do in my head. Is this what prison is like? Boredom and pain on a loop.

 

Doubling over from the pain, I reach for the call button, stopping myself at the last minute.

 

Why am I doing this to myself? It’s not like the situation is going to change by waiting any longer. Maybe this is just my nature. It’s not like it’s without precedent.

 

The remainder of the fifteen minutes must have passed, as Jake pops his head in again.

 

“Still awake”. Same tone as last time. Same smile too.

 

“Yep”. I try to force a neutral face but evidently fail.

 

“What happened? Are you hurt?”. Rushing to my side faster than most sprinters.

 

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just painful memories”. That’s what we call lying through omission.

 

“Amy, you know you can tell us anything. We’re here to help, and right now it looks like you are hiding something”. I need to seriously reassess my lying ability when this is all over. My record over the past day would make even the most passionate of sports fans lose hope.

 

“Did you hurt yourself? You're not in trouble, we just want to fix it up and keep you safe”. Leaning over he grabbed the edge of the blanket.

 

“I’m fine” Pulling blankets up to under my chin. I realize how childish a response this is, but it’s been a long day, and I’m tired.

 

“Amy. I need to take a look. Let go of the blankets”. I want to say ‘no’, but even what passes for my common sense says that would be a bad move.

 

“Wait! I really am fine, I just have to go to the bathroom. That’s all. I swear”. Why didn’t I lead with this?

 

“Alright. I still need to check just to be sure. I can get a female nurse if it would make you more comfortable. Then I’ll take you to the bathroom.” Fuck! Zero birds, two stones.

 

“Please. I didn’t do anything” The pleading in my voice depresses even me.

 

“We just want to be thorough. I’m sure you understand why. Now do you want me to grab a female nurse or are you okay with me taking a look? Jennifer shares the shift with me and is very nice” Why can’t anything go my way?

 

“It's fine. Go ahead. don’t care”. I really don’t. I just want this over with.

 

As he pulls the blankets down, I use my free hand to cover my face. I don’t care how clinical someone is, there are limits, and they are ten miles back.

 

After being inspected like a horse at an auction, I’m allowed to pull the blankets back up.

 

“Good Job. Nothing new, and everything looks clean”. Does he know how patronizing that sounds?

 

“Do you still need to go to the bathroom?”. If nothing else, that ordeal provided a good distraction. I had almost forgotten my intestinal pain till he asked.

 

Nodding while refusing eye contact, I was safe in the knowledge that it couldn’t get any worse.

 

“I'm just going to pop to the nurses station to grab a wheelchair, be back in a jiffy”. How many times must he have done this to be completely unfazed?

 

The ride to the restroom wasn’t too bad. I got to hold onto my IV pole and swing my legs. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the change of pace.

 

Actually using the bathroom on the other hand... Let’s just say that my definition of privacy is a bit different than the norm here, and I hadn’t accounted for how this works with a catheter. By the time we got back to my room, my face could have been used as a heat lamp (I would have made some lizard very happy).

 

In the end I did get one win. On Jake’s next loop he came bearing two presents. Sleeping pills the doctor has just approved. Within five minutes I was dragged to sleep whether I wanted to or not.

[Guilend]

I definitely understand what she’s going through. Been there a few times myself. I love the detail you put into this story. 

[Bonsai]

You gave a perfect picture of nighttime hospital vibes.

[Moon3ye]

Were you by chance in Germany 8 weeks ago and observed me during my hospital stay?

With the exception of the catheter, this is 1 to 1 my first night in the hospital.

Good chapter looking forward to more.

[Guilend]

I do hope this continues. I can’t wait for more 

[Guilend]

Bump because I love the story

[Guilend]

Bump

[Babyqtboy]

On 9/21/2021 at 5:01 PM, Guilend said:

Bump because I love the story

It’s been over a month, I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting 

[TestAccountPleaseIgnore]

Sorry for the delay.

I've been switching jobs which has killed all enthusiasm for writing.
I should have a chapter posted this week.

Sorry.

[Guilend]

6 hours ago, TestAccountPleaseIgnore said:

Sorry for the delay.

I've been switching jobs which has killed all enthusiasm for writing.
I should have a chapter posted this week.

Sorry.

I know how that is. I just started a new job myself and it’s been hard to be motivated to do anything till I’m used to the schedule change. 
 

And yay. And no need to be sorry. 

[Disk]

Hi!

Just wanted to say I really like what I've seen so far of this story. Dont feel pressured though, we don't want to kill your enthusiasm, just to add to it! Know I'm certainly here for more when you want to write it!

Sorry things have been stressful, sending you my energy (I have no use for it ;p)

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Chapter 7 (Alex)

 

“Alex Miller to visit Amy Silvers”. The middle aged woman working the front desk hunts and pecks on her keyboard with only the pointer finger on each hand. Same as my boss. Same slight wince in my eye too. 

 

The ER is a lot quieter in the morning. I guess a lot less people get hurt before they have had their coffee.

 

“There she is. Looks like she is still asleep. Did you still want to visit?” Amy sleeping in isn’t shocking. No laundry before noon is the standard at home for a reason.

 

“Yes. Thank you”. I promised I would be here when she woke up. Besides, as much as I love my friends, it’s nice to take a break. Saturday morning mimosas are much better as a treat, than the norm.

 

“Looks like you were here yesterday. She’s lucky to have such a good friend. Too many people that come through here never have a single visitor. Especially the older folks. It’s sad”. Sadly in my experience far too many old people have earned their lack of visitors.

 

“She’s a good friend to have. I think I’m the lucky one”. Something I’m glad I realized in time.

 

“Isn’t that nice. Just a moment. I need to print off some documents and then have you sign them real quick”. A clipboard with a cheap plastic pen tied to it followed shortly after. Two pages, front and back. Seems a bit much for a visitor's pass.

 

“Initial on bottom of each page and sign the last. I’ll have a nurse bring you back in just a moment”. Finding a seat in the vacant lobby, I get set on the paperwork.

Much was as expected. ‘Are you or have you been sick’. Others set off my radar. ‘Have you been a caretaker of or experienced urges to caretake an adult Amazon in the past 90 days’. Hmm, I’d heard about that happening on other islands. Hopefully just a precaution.

 

Passing back the clipboard, I decide to take in the decor. 

 

Obligatory fish tanks. Check. 

Health and Safety posters made with a tad too much enthusiasm and color. Check. 

Stain proof vinyl covered seats. Check.

A hint of bleach with every breath. Check.

Inoffensive royalty free nature sounds. Check.

The HVAC providing the closest thing to an actual base. Check.

 

By golly Alex, I think you might just be in a hospital.

 

Maybe I had been spending more time with Amy than I thought. It seems at least her snark has rubbed off on me.

 

Hope she’s doing alright. I know how much traveling impacts her sleep habits, I can’t imagine it’s any better here. That whole ski trip we took, everyone kept calling her raccoon on account of bags under her eyes. I don’t think she slept the entire week.

 

“Alex Miller”. A friendly tone and outstretched lanyard beckons my way back.

 

“Thanks”. Slipping the lanyard over my head, we begin to wind our way through the maze of corridors and buzzing fluorescent lights.

 

“My name’s James. I’m Amy’s nurse for the morning shift. Feel free to let me know if you or her need anything”. Spotless scrubs and a smile in his badge photo. I hope he can keep it up. I know I couldn’t stay positive coming here every day.

 

“Thanks. How is she?” Hope she didn’t do anything too dumb. 

 

“Still asleep. She had a pretty rough night”. Was it an escape attempt? Did she try something even more rash? 

 

“Is everything alright?”. The panic evident in my voice. I knew I should have told a nurse to knock her out.

 

“Oh, nothing that serious. She just had some trouble adjusting to spending the night.  It’s fairly common”. Maybe lead with that next time.

 

“I was worried about that. She has a hard time adjusting”. If by ‘hard’ I mean that she drove back to my mom’s house every weekend of our first semester in college to ‘sleep somewhere comfortable’, then yes, she does have a hard time adjusting.

 

“Here we are”. James parts the curtain and let’s me take in the sight in all of its glory.

 

Amy’s lucky that there’s no pictures allowed in the hospital.

 

Sheets and blankets haphazardly lay in a pile around her. The catheter tube in plain sight as it snakes off to the side.

 

Pokey is strangled by her non-iv arm so tight that I’m surprised her head is still attached. Speaking of Pokey’s head, there is a non insignificant amount of drool on her horn, which is partially in Amy’s open mouth.

 

Going a little bit higher and we are treated to possibly the worst case of bed head in recorded history. It looks like she slept on a live wire. Each strand is pointed in a different direction. Her face is crisscrossed like a switchboard. Lastly, Pokey’s horn is not the only thing she had been chewing on. She’ll be coughing up hairs worse than your average cat.

 

“Sorry about that. I put her sheets back on about an hour ago, but she keeps kicking them off. As long as there is not a safety concern, sometimes it is the best to just leave it as is. I let the doctor know as it might be from a medication interaction”. A slight brush from which is likely second hand embarrassment spread across his face.

 

“Well the bed head is definitely classic Amy. Not sure about the rest. It is pretty adorable though”. If this is from a medication side effect then I definitely want some on hand. Next time she wouldn’t be so lucky about no cameras.

 

“She’ll likely be out for at least another hour or so. If you want some breakfast or coffee I’ll be happy to grab you some. It’s normally only for patients and staff, but it’s pretty empty today and they always have extras.” Breakfast and a show. Not bad for a Saturday morning.

 

“That would be lovely. Thank you”. I’d been too nervous this morning to make anything. 

 

“Great. The coffee’s pretty good. As for the food, let’s say it is competitively priced at free”. Of course. It might be a worn out stereotype, but that doesn’t mean it’s false.

 

“Understood. Maybe just the coffee then. I think it’ll tide me over till lunch at the cafe”. This time without the peppers.

 

“Good call. I’ll be back in a moment with the coffee. Is there anything else?”. The professionalism to be able to maintain composure with Amy’s next to him is impressive. 

 

“Oh. I brought some books for her. I hope that’s alright”. Mostly light reading. A trashy romance novel with a few pages I had dog-eared, some young adult fantasy novels, and the book from Amy’s bedside table. 

 

‘A collection of classic Little literature’. It is not as the name would imply a bunch of nursery rhymes and coloring books. It came out a few years ago. A Little volunteered to come here and brought it with them. Apparently it was a demonstration of why Littles are grown ups. I don’t think it went well for him, but the book did cause a fair bit of stir. It’s even been included as part of some real literature classes.

 

In her own way, she was always the more academic of the two of us. I get why she dropped out, I just wish she found work that let her apply her brain more.

 

“No worries. I’ll need to check through them when I get back”. Worried I’m smuggling Amy a nail file? Well behind every rule, there’s a reason. Wonder what that one is.

 

---

 

My endless scrolling through social media is interrupted by a very tired groan.

 

“Good morning sleepy head. How do you feel?”. I had covered her back up mostly to protect her ego, but the droll and hair were a lost cause.

 

“Alex?”. Assuming I had translated that right from sleep speech.

 

“Here as promised”. It’s hard not to giggle as she extracts Pokey from her mouth as well as an impressive arrangement of hairs.

 

“What time is it?” I’m a little surprised she didn’t ask ‘what year’ with how she sounds.

 

“9:45. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much”. A vast understatement, considering the most excitement all morning was a paper jam. Of which I heard the heroic struggle from no less than three staff members. 

 

“Tell me. It is as bad as I think it is”. I struggle to think of ways it could be any worse.

 

“Sorry Amy. It’s much much worse”. Said the predator to the prey when asked ‘are you hungry?’.

 

“If you took a picture then you’re going to end up in a bed in the room next door”. It would have been worth it.

 

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me”. Only thanks to hospital policy.

 

I scoot my chair next to her and help brush aside the strangling hair.

 

“Alex.. I’m sorry. I...”. Her voice trails off to a mumble as she breaks eye contact.

 

“Shh. We both said enough apologizes last night to last a lifetime. No more”. Sadly this probably isn’t the last time we will have this conversation today. She seems to really need to beat herself up.

 

“Thanks. I really mean it. For everything”. I feel guilty everytime she thanks me. Thanks for what?  For ignoring her for so long that I didn’t notice till it blew up.

 

“Don’t worry about it. You're my best friend. Besides, my mom would never forgive me if something happened to you”. My mom clearly has a favorite, and it’s not her daughter. 

 

“I think I’m going to have to break the no apologies rule. I’ve bailed on her too many times”. I would call her right now to put that to rest, but I don’t think Amy’s ready to talk to anyone else.

 

“You know she would never hold it against you”. I don’t think anything Amy could do would stop my mom from loving her.

 

“That’s what makes it worse”. I need to break her out of this, or she is going to be recounting every slight she has ever given for the rest of time.

 

“You're not as bad as you think you are. Now for something more fun than an endless apology loop. I brought you some books. You can start flipping through them as soon as the nurse comes back”. Well maybe not the dog-eared pages when the nurses are around.

 

“Wait. Um. About my room. Did you ...”. Even after bringing everything in the open, she still can’t stand to even talk about it. I’ll have to look into a therapist that can help, assuming the social worker doesn’t have a recommendation already.

“I put everything away back in the box in your closet”. I hope it doesn’t stay there forever. I know it means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be afraid in her own home. 

 

“Thanks”. The relief in her voice palpable.

 

“I’ll be right back”. Standing up and grabbing my empty coffee cup on the way out I head to the nurses station.

 

---

 

One earbud in her right ear, one in my left, playing music our mothers would not approve of. Guess nothing has changed since our middle school bus rides. Complete with Amy’s nose in a book. Although I don’t think we would get in trouble listening to punk nowadays. At least from my mom.

 

Ever since James told us that the social worker would be by in about an hour, Amy’s clammed up. I wish we could just go home now, but I know this is for the best. No matter how hard it might be.

 

Thus, I’m doing my part to distract her.

 

I don’t get why she’s so nervous. It’s a person whose job it is to help, and I guarantee that nothing she could say would top some of the horror stories a social worker has likely dealt with. But that’s Amy for you. I try not to play armchair psychologist, but it's pretty hard to ignore a case of anxiety this obvious. Hopefully that is one of the things she can help with from all of this.

 

A knock interrupts my reminiscing. Amy squeezes my hand hard enough to cut off circulation.

 

“Hi, I’m Linn. I’m a social worker here at the hospital. Is now a good time to talk?”. You would think she was the grim reaper asking for her soul with how Amy is acting.

 

A nod is the only response given. This is going to be a long conversation.

 

“No need to be nervous. I’m just going to talk about what’s been happening and some options to help. Before we begin, do you want your friend to stay? It’s your choice and there is no pressure either way”. I can’t tell if it would be better to say or go.

 

“It’s okay Amy. I can go stretch my legs or something”. There is a garden I’ve seen through the windows. Might be fun to check it out.

 

“No!” The force of the reply catches both me and Linn off guard.

 

“I mean. Please stay. I want you here”. Her voice sounds like a kid waiting in the principal's office.

 

“Okay. I’ll be right here”. I squeeze her hand back with what strength is left.

 

“I’m sure you're tired of paperwork, but before we begin I have some releases for the both of you”. At least this is a single page.

 

As soon as Amy and I hand back the paperwork she resumes her deathgrip. My poor hand isn’t going to survive today.

 

“Okay. Amy, I looked through your file including Dr Martinez’s notes, but I still think it’s best if we start from the top. How are you feeling?” I’ve never liked the term ‘your file’. There is something nefarious about it.

 

“Fine”. Amy’s voice is clipped and flat. She is about as subtle as a parade.

 

“Okay. Any issues? I know last night wasn’t your favorite”. What happened last night? Was it that bad?

 

“None”. Clipped and flat again. 

 

“Amy, I’ve talked with a lot of people in my career. I can tell when someone is lying. I know you're scared and you don’t want to talk to me, but all I want to do is help”. I’m not anywhere close to a humane lie detector and I could have told you that.

 

“It’s fine. I’m not lying. There’s no issues”. The social worker just smiles. I guess this is not her first time dealing with this.

 

“What’s your fuzzy friend’s name?”. ‘fuzzy damp friend’ is a more accurate descriptor at this point.

“Pokey”. The blood begins to flow back to my hand as she releases it to squeeze the life out of her fuzzy damp friend.

 

“That’s a good name. Did you come up with it?” I’m surprised Amy’s not mad with the whole kid routine, but maybe this is what she needs right now.

 

“Yes” A small smile for that one.

 

“It fits. Can you please tell me what you're nervous about? I promise I’ll try to help”. Something I’ve been trying to get her to understand this entire time.

 

“Sorry. I just don’t like talking about this stuff”. You made that much very clear.

 

“That’s perfectly understandable. Is there anything that would help you relax? Maybe a breathing exercise or closing your eyes?”. A weak nod as she buries her head in her unicorn.  

 

“Amy, I’m here for you, and no matter what, we will be friends. It’s okay. You can talk to her. She can help”. Pleading with her as I gently stroke her hair.

 

“Let’s start again. How are you feeling?”. Come on Amy.

 

“Tired”. Me too

 

“Understandable. I know this is difficult for you, so I’ll try to be as brief as possible. From looking over your file, I have a few items on my list. Eating disorder, self injury, and suicide. Is there anything I’m leaving out or you want me to cover? We can also break this up into multiple sessions if needed”. Diapers. Amy needs to bring up diapers in some form. It’s tearing her up inside.

 

“That’s it”. Damit Amy. I knew it was a long shot, but I still had hoped she would ask for help.

 

“Okay”. I wonder if Linn can tell she is lying.

 

“Have you ever talked with or worked with a professional about these issues”. I can answer that. No.

 

“No”. I’m pretty sure Amy would rather take out her own appendix than let anyone help.

 

“How about in general? Have you ever seen a therapist”. My mom offered to pay for one after everything that happened in college, but she never took it.

 

“Only when I was a kid”. Oh ya. I forgot about that. Around the same time my mom insisted she started sleeping over more. She ended up being at my house more often than not after that.

 

“What did you see them about?”. Her mom being a bitch.

 

“My mom being a bitch”. Nailed it.

 

“I see. Anyone since then?”. Credit to Linn for moving past that one without comment.

 

“No”. I don’t think she even keeps a journal. I probably would have found it while cleaning.

 

“Okay. Now this next question might be hard, but I need to make sure your living environment is safe. Dr Martinez mentioned a possible plan using pills. Did you still have them?” I didn’t find any pills. Oh Amy, what have you been up to?

 

“Yes”. The wave of despair and defeatism hangs heavily to her.

 

“Where would they be?”. You would think Amy was asked ‘where are the bodies’.

 

“In my work bag”. Was that to hide them from me or to always have them at the ready?

 

“Okay. I want to make sure those are gone before you go home. Are you okay if your friend disposes of them?” I don’t care if she agrees or not. I’m getting rid of them, and anything else I find tucked away. I’ll go through every scrap of cloth and under every floorboard if I have to.

 

A single nod. Barely visible from her hunched position.

 

“Do you have access to any firearms”. Please say no.

 

A shake. A silver lining I guess.

 

“Any other means or plans to end your life or inflict serious harm”. Amy, sometimes you are too clever for your own good.

 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Amy has always sucked at lying, I don’t know why she thinks this will ever work. 

 

“Amy, it is important that we make your home as safe as possible. You’re not in trouble, we are just trying to keep you safe. Is there anything at home or anywhere else that you would have access to, that poses a risk to your health”. I’m going to get a lock for the knife drawer. 

 

Nod and a sniffle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this defeated. Not even at Matt’s funeral.

 

“Thank you. What is it?”. I wish we could stop now, but it’s probably better to rip this bandaid off all at once.

 

“Razors”. Her voice hits five different notes as she tries and fails to keep it steady. I pull her into  a hug as she shakes in my arms.

 

“Okay. Where are they?”. I rack my brain, but she only had one disposable razor in her bathroom.

 

“Shoes”. The word comes out between two sobs. I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt.

 

“Your shoes?”. A statement more than a question. 

 

“Soles”. I would be impressed in different circumstances.

 

“Okay. Is there anything else?”. Please be done. You’ve done enough Amy.

 

“Closet”. Barely audible

 

“Is there something in your closet?”. Ten ugly holiday sweaters, a box I regret opening, and enough mildew to colonize a planet.

 

“Coat hook. Into stud. Supports body weight. Tested”. I can’t stop picturing it. How did I not notice just how bad this had gotten.

 

“Thank you. Is there anything else?”. I don’t think Amy heard her. Her head is buried too deep in my chest.

 

“Amy?”. I shake my head no.

 

“I’m going to leave some paperwork with you. Some is homework for you to fill out. Don’t worry, you're not going to be graded, it’s just to let us know how to best help you. The rest are resources and guides to help. You can tackle this at your own pace. There’s no pressure. We’re going to chat again before you leave, but it doesn’t have to be today, or even tomorrow. We can wait till you are ready. It was nice meeting you, and I think you’re very brave for talking with me”. She hands me the packet before quietly leaving.

 

It takes fifteen minutes for her sobs to turn into whimpers.

 

Another ten to fall into an exhausted slumber

 

---

 

Walking up to the nurses station I keep turning the idea over in my head again and again. It needed to be done, but I don’t like going behind her back like this. I just hope she can forgive me.

“How is she?” James asks as I arrive.

 

“Still sleeping. At least no more tears, I think she’s too tired to cry”. I wonder if she can take a shower after she wakes up.

 

“Are you heading out? We can call you when she wakes up”. Leaving her to wake up alone like this is unthinkable.

“No. Thank you though. I was hoping I could talk to Linn, the social worker”. She seemed nice. I hope she understands.

 

“Sure, let me give her a call”. Half listening to the conversation, I stare at the pile of scrubs behind him. I thought about being a doctor for a brief moment in college (who didn’t). I’m glad I work in tech. No one dies or throws up. Just endless emails and meetings.

 

“She’ll be down in just a minute. Everything okay? You look nervous”. I guess Amy is not the only one lacking subtlety.

 

“Ya. I’m fine. It’s just this whole thing has been pretty difficult”. That’s what the pros call lying by omission. Comes in handy far too often at work.

 

“It’s okay to take a break. It’s something we learn in school. You have to be able to take a step back or you burn yourself out without helping anyone”. There isn’t anyone else I could call to help. My mom is away this weekend, and Amy doesn’t trust anyone else.

 

“Thanks. I promise I’ll keep an eye on it”. Another partial lie. I’ll keep an eye on it. I just won’t do anything about it.

 

“Hey, you wanted to chat”. Linn walks up carrying an overstuffed manilla envelope. I do not envy her.

 

“Ya. Sorry about that. Amy doesn’t do well with those conversations”. And lead has difficulty floating on water.

 

“It’s no problem. If it makes her or you feel any better, she’s not even the worst I’ll deal with today. Not by a long shot”. I guess no one got bit or spit on in our meeting.

 

“Thanks. I know you're busy, but the reason I wanted to talk is there’s something Amy forgot to mention. I was hoping we could go somewhere private”. Amy didn’t forget. She chose to exclude.

 

“Sure. My office is just a floor up. It might be cramped, but it’s private”. Privacy is a luxury in a hospital.

 

“Thanks”. The trek up to her office was uneventful. It’s weird how right above the ER there are offices with mundane everyday work. 

 

Linn turns on the door to the shoebox she calls an office. Even the door is extra narrow to fit the space.

 

A full 60% of the space is file cabinets, leaving just enough room for a computer older than me, and a desk chair. One of the file cabinets is working double duty as the desk.

 

“Sorry about this. We haven’t finished converting to electronic records, so I’m stuck with these in the meantime”. I would be worried about removing them. They could play an important structural component of the building, keeping the floor from moving.

 

“No worries. I used to work at my college library. I’m used to lots of paperwork”. Also where I obtained my disdain for it.

 

“So what did you want to talk about”. Here we go Alex. No backing out now.

 

“Well you see, this whole thing kicked off when I found something”. Fat lot of nothing all the psyching myself up did. I’m just as cagey as Amy when it comes to this.

 

“Something like drugs, or something more personal”. Drugs would be easier to explain, and probably less embarrassing for her.

 

“Personal”. Very personal.

 

“Okay”. Her calming voice is working on me. I should look into the training social workers do. It would probably help when mediating meetings.

 

“Um, is it okay to talk to you about this? I mean we signed releases but...”. I kind of hope she says no. Then at least I tried.

 

“Those releases were for letting me talk to you. You were always able to do the reverse. What you feel comfortable talking about is between you and your friend. Although, it sounds like this is pretty important, and you wouldn’t be the first friend or family to have come forward with something”. She’s right. Damit it.

 

“Okay. Well I found a box of Amy’s things while cleaning. It’s nothing dangerous or anything, just something she’s ashamed of. I was hoping you could find someone to help her with it”. Nice and vague.

 

“Is she gay?”. What?

 

“What? No! I mean yes, but she’s not ashamed of it. That’s not what’s in the box. I think it’s something more like a fetish”. I never asked or looked up if that’s true, but it seems like calling it a fetish is fair.

 

“To get my license I went through a lot of training on how to deal with different situations. Part of that was sexuaility. You would be amazed at how many conflicts we deal with that have some element of it. I promised I won’t judge her or you. We can just leave it as her having a fetish if you want, but it sounds like this needs to be addressed, and the more specific you are, the easier it is to find a match for someone who can help”. I take a deep breath in preparation. As easy as it would be to leave this unsaid, I know she would never say it herself.

 

“Diapers”. There. It’s not that hard.

 

“Does she want a Little or something? I don’t know if I would call that fetish”. To Amy’s credit, I guess this is harder to explain than I thought.

 

“No. Like diapers for an Amazon”. Before yesterday I only knew that some old people wore them.

 

“Does she have a medical condition. A lot of people are ashamed of disabilities”. The gears in Linn’s brain are still clearly turning. I guess this must be rare if a social worker has never heard of it.

 

“No. She doesn’t have a condition. She likes to wear them. I found a baby bottle too. She says it makes her feel safe, but she’s terrified of even saying the word diaper”. For something that makes her feel safe, she sure is afraid of it.

 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. I’ll do some research to see if we have a therapist who has experience with this area, as well as anything else we can do to help”. That was less productive than I had hoped.

 

“Thank you”. I swallow hard. All that energy for this.

 

“I’ll have the nurses let you know if I find anything or need any further information”. I’m not going to get my hopes up. I’ll probably end up having to find someone myself.

 

“Thanks”. I keep a positive tone as I close the door.

 

Walking back to Amy’s room, I’m left questioning if I did the right thing.

 

---

 

Looking out a courtyard from the third story window I take another bite of my sandwich. It’s good, especially without my mouth catching fire, but I feel myself missing the heat. Maybe I just want some physical pain to accompany my emotional pain.

 

Amy was pretty sedated after she woke up. We mostly sat silently listening to music till I took a break for lunch. I didn’t think she could tell that I’m nervous around her. Too much going on for something like that to stand out. Why does doing the right thing feel so wrong? Did I do the right thing?

 

My pity party is interrupted by a tall woman in a black suit taking a seat next to me.

 

“Alex Miller?”. A friendly but firm tone pairs with a likewise friendly but firm face.

 

“Yes?” Hurriedly swallowing my oversized bite and cleaning my hands.

 

“I’m Tara Black. I’m an agent with the Department of Health and Amazon Services. I was hoping we could talk”. What did I do? I don’t even know how you would piss the Department of Health and Amazon Services.

 

“Did something happen?”. Seriously, what did I do?

 

“Nothing serious. If you would please follow me. Feel free to bring your lunch”. Anything that requires a suited up government agent paying you personal visit sounds pretty serious to me.

 

Total silence follows us on the short walk to an empty office. 

 

“It’s a lease office. Don’t worry, we won’t be interrupted”. Not my primary concern.

 

“Um. So what did you need to talk about?”. Please let it be that I made a typo in some form.

 

“It’s about your friend Amy”. What more trouble could Amy get into?

 

“I know the last day has been difficult, but she doesn’t get into the sort of trouble that requires a government agent to visit”.  I hold my breath and wait for the other shoe to drop.

 

“I should explain. She’s not in trouble. In fact I’m here to help her”. The slow exhale helps calm me down.

 

“Sorry, I don’t really know how your agency could help”. Maybe this is a finance thing? I know Amy doesn’t make much.

 

“Like most large government agencies, we at the D.H.A.S. play a lot of roles. The overall mission of our agency is to promote and help the health and welfare of Amazons”. That tells me nothing.

 

“I still fail to see how this is related to Amy”. Also why are they talking to me instead of her?

 

“As an agency we deal with all sorts of issues. From financial assistant, to child abuse, and even education. In many of these situations we like to send someone personal who will be managing it from our side. As for Amy, she’s a special case. As you no doubt are aware, there exists a segment of the adult Amazon population that wear diapers for a variety of means. By itself this is not an issue, but given our society, it poses a risk to not only to those individuals, but Amazons at large. Thus her case is considered special interest within our agency. I’m here to help her with this as well as related issues”. My brain stutters as it tries to pick apart that word salad.

 

“You think Amy wearing diapers is a risk to the general population?!”. I know it’s different, but this is absurd.

 

“Physical health is not the only kind of health we are concerned about, although it does play a role in this.” She thinks Amy’s Diapers are going to mentally scar the general public?

 

“How?”. Seriously.

 

“What is the most associated item or aspect tied to Littles? Diapers. Many adult Amazons have a hard time separating the two. When confronted by an adult wearing them, some Amazons experience acute distress as it breaks their understanding of the social conventions. Violence has sadly erupted more than once as an Amazon has either tried to force the wearer into the role of a Little, or assault them for disrupting the social order.” My eyes spring fully open at the thought of someone getting hurt over this.

 

“Amy only has some at home. She’s not going to cause a panic”. I don’t know if she is even going to wear them at home again.

 

“As I said, we are here to help. We have found the most effective means for all parties is to work with the source. She’s not in trouble. This is about doing what’s best for her and everyone else”. They’re going to confiscate them.

 

“I can see you're still nervous. Let me explain our project and then I can try to answer any questions you may have”. The more talking you do, the less comfortable I feel.

 

“First of all, nothing Amy’s done is illegal. We are not treating her like a criminal”. I let out a small sigh. At least we avoided the worst.

 

“Secondly, it is important to recognize the type of support that Amy needs. While it might seem like all Amazon in the same situation require the same assistance, in truth no two people are the same”. What kind of assistance could she need with this?

 

“We have three broad categories we use when assessing the needs of clients. Beyond matching to a category, we also create individual plans that are adjusted as needed to make sure clients are fully supported”. Nodding, I try to follow along.

 

“First, we have medical use. This is what you are probably the most familiar with and it is the closest to being accepted by society. Unfortunately that sliver of acceptance is only available for the oldest of Amazons. Those with medical needs that are younger often face humiliation and ostritzation, a sadly common trait with all our clients. Additionally the most accepted products on the market are more concerned with differentiating themselves with products aimed at Little, than at fully meeting the needs of our clients”. Meeting their needs? I can take a guess.

 

“What we do for those who need it is offer contact with companies that supply products suited for their needs, support groups, therapy, and lists of affirming resources and help”. That sounds pretty useful for Amy.

 

“Second, we have enthusiasts. These are those who largely do not have a medical need, but choose to wear diapers for other reasons. This ranges from sexual use to simple enjoyment”. I guess she would be an ‘enthusiast’. Feels strange to apply that to diapers, but not any weirder than people who like doing deep cave exploration. Safer too.

 

“Many of the requirements are the same as the first group, with the added need of safe social interactions. We have contacts with club owners, movie theaters, even some zoos. This is to offer spaces and times that are safe and discreet, so our clients can meet others with similar interests”. A whole bunch of diapered Amazons looking at an elephant makes me smile. Maybe this won’t be that bad.

 

“Lastly, we have what we call Big Littles. These are Amazons whose emotional state and needs more closely match Littles than a typical Amazon. Amazons in this group show a need for more hands-on interactions, similar to that of a parent. The largest factor we use to decide this category is if a client’s interest in diapers becomes a risk to their physical or mental health”. Please don’t be Amy.

 

“For this group we find suitable living situations as well as offering support to both the client and the client’s guardians”. Amy would kill herself before letting someone be her guardian.

 

“I want to stress that this is not a permanent assignment, and Amazons can move between the categories as needed”. Tara making direct eye contact for this is a bit unsettling.

 

“Sorry. That was a lot to take in, but sounds good. I’m sure Amy will be happy to have more discrete options for buying things. Who knows. Maybe she will even make a friend or two”. I’ll be happy to pitch in for whatever she wants.

 

“Thank you for being supportive and open”. The pregnant pause sends a shiver down my spine.

 

“As for what category fits Amy the best and the type of support we are thinking of, she’s a very clear match for ‘Big Little’. I know this is difficult, but it’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk with you”. Please no. She’ll never go for it. 

 

“I don’t understand. Sure Amy has been struggling lately, but she works a job and pays bills. Don’t you think that is more than a little over reactive?”. Everyone has bad days. Don’t let this ruin her life.

 

“If you hadn’t talked to Linn this morning, then this afternoon Linn would be discussing involuntary treatment options with you and Amy. Right now it is not safe to leave her alone”. She could handle 72 hours, right? Better than being forced into that.

 

“Okay, but I don’t think the diapers are what’s making her unsafe. I don’t see how she needs a guardian”. You can’t kill yourself with a diaper. Well at least no an easier than most everyday objects.

 

“We could treat them as separate, and often we do for those who are a better fit for medial or enthusiast. What we look at is if the diapers play a role in the mental health concerns and to what extent”. Amy’s scared. Who wouldn’t be.

 

“In Amy’s case it is very clear that the guilt and shame she feels around diapers is in part fueling the other concerns”. Something I’ve known since the moment I confronted her about it.

 

“How would you even know? I only found out yesterday and you only found out a few hours ago. You even said so”. Grasp, meet straws.

 

“It was very clear that Amy was suffering from trauma. That much was obvious the moment the EMTs talked with her. What we didn’t know was from where”.

 

“There’s other stuff. It doesn’t just have to be the diapers”. There is so much other stuff. Everything her mom did could fill a whole wing in a library.

 

“That’s true, but it would be hard to argue that that some percentage isn’t from feelings about diapers. What we do know is in cases like these, things are often interconnected. Trying to treat just the self harm, or eating disorder, without touching underlying issues is like dressing a bullet wound with the bullet still in”. Amy’s never going to talk about this.

 

“She could do that with therapy. It doesn’t need to be this extreme”. I’m just going through the motions.  We both know that wouldn’t work.

 

“Okay. Let’s look at the options. We could have her spend a few weeks involuntarily in a mental health facility. She would be safe, and we could make sure she is eating. After that we could send her to an outpatient therapist. Do you think she would be willing to truly engage in that scenario? Would you feel safe having her alone at home?” I barely feel safe leaving her alone in her hospital room.

 

“No”. Looking down at my feet, I let this crash over me. Amy’s going to be sent off to some stranger. At least I can say goodbye.

 

“The other option is treating her as a Big Little. Instead of a short stay at a secure facility, she has long term parents/guardians. She is slowly reintroduced back into normal life while keeping her  support system, and we actively work on a major fear of hers instead letting it fester unsaid”. How many years would she be gone?

 

“Well, we could tell the therapist in advance. So she would have to confront it”. Playing devil’s advocate isn’t fun when it’s your friend's freedom you’re debating.

 

“How do you imagine that going? I’m picturing a melt down in the therapist’s office followed by sliding right back into the behavior she was supposed to be working on. Then back here. Am I wrong?”. I tried Amy. She’s right. This is the best for you.

“No. It’s just, I don’t like forcing something like this on her”. I feel like a pretty shit friend already.

 

“I don’t either. This isn’t a judgement against her. Everyone involved just wants the best for her. You included”. Everyone wants what’s best for Amy, except Amy.

 

“So where do I come in?”. Moral support?

 

“As I said. We find it important to find a suitable guardian. Ideally we would like to find someone in her existing circle who is supportive of both her, and who doesn’t have a problem with diapers”. I don’t really know any parents or people that would be interested.

 

“Her mom is out. I guess I could ask my mom, but I don’t know how she would react. I’m guessing positively, but it’s hard to tell”. Sure it’s weird, but mom would probably go for it.

 

“I was more looking at you”. Me?

 

“Me? I’m not a parent. Hell, we're the same age and have been friends our entire lives. I can’t be her parent”. I’ve never even thought about having kids or adopting.

 

“She trusts you, and we know you would be supportive of her”. I don’t know how much she trusts me after today.

 

“I have a job. Plus I don’t know the first things about being a parent, let alone how to help with all the other issues. I mean outside of if I even should look after her, I don’t think I even can”. I remember watching a video in health class on how to change a diaper, but that was for a Little. How does that even work for someone Amy’s size?

 

“We’ll pay you your current salary and benefits while you are her primary caregiver, and will make sure you always have a place at your job to return to. We’re not asking you to do this alone. We will take care of contacting therapists, doctors, and whatever else she needs. On top of that we’ll provide you training and resources on being her parent”. She’s really serious about this.

 

“You really want me to say yes”. Why do I want to say yes?

“We think it’s the best option for her”. She would hate me for this, but I think it might be the best too.

 

“So if I do say yes, and this is only hypothetically. What happens?”. How do I Amy-proof my apartment?

 

“She spends a few days here as we help set up your apartment as everything else you need. Don’t worry. We will take it step by step”. That answers that.

 

“And if I say no?”. I wince at the imagery of Amy being carted off by some stranger.

 

“We will look into any names you give us as alternatives, and if that fails send her to a care facility till we can find an appropriate match with foster parents”. Not going to happen.

 

“There is no way she could handle that”. She probably would do something everyone would regret..

 

“Tell you what. Eat the rest of your lunch and take some time. Nothing needs to be decided today. I’ll leave you my card and this information packet. You can call me at any time with your decision or any other questions you may have”. Dropping off the material she turns towards the door. 

 

“Thanks. Sorry, still a bit overwhelmed”. Probably ten pages to flip through till the end of lunch.

 

“Understandable”. Life gets complicated fast.

 

“One more thing. Please don’t mention any of this to Amy. Not at least till she is in a better state to handle it”. That’s something we can both readily agree on.

 

---

 

The remainder of my sandwich might as well be sand for how much attention I paid it. I ideally flip through the packet again. Not really reading it, just unsure of what else to do.

 

Can I really do this? Can I be Amy’s parent?

 

Funny enough the diapers are the least strange part of this. Having to treat my best friend as at least some kind of infant easily wins that race.

 

She’ll hate me, but she’ll be safe. The latter is always more important. Sorry Amy.

 

I walk back to her room like a prisoner on their way to the gallows. I betrayed my friend's trust today. Multiple times. No matter how well intentioned or necessary, I still went behind her back.

 

Pulling aside the curtain I am met by a completely frazzled Amy. The papers Linn gave us are strew across the bed. A broken golf pencil lay in the center of the mess.

 

“Amy? Is everything okay? Did something happen?”. Did Linn come back while was gone?

 

“Ya. No. Nothing happened. Just overwhelmed. I tried to get through this while you were gone, but my brain overloads the moment I start. I’m going to be locked up somewhere, aren’t”. Her body becomes more panicked with each word.

 

“Amy, you’re not going to be locked up. I promise. Okay?”. She might not like the alternative, but she’s not getting locked up.

 

“Are you sure?”. Her desperation hangs in the air as her eyes plead with me to reassure her fears.

 

“I’m sure”. Grabbing her arm with one hand, I start to clear the paper with the other.

 

“Do you want to go through this together?”. It seems she got stuck on a list of mental health facilities.

 

“No. It’s too much”. My conversation with Tara really opened my eyes. For all her brilliance and sarcasm, sometimes she really is a kid.

 

“Do you want me to decide?”. A quick nod from her tells me all I need.

 

“Okay. I’m going to grab all these from you and then check in with the nurses real quick. Why don’t you read your book till I come back”. Initiating my mom’s voice when she wants to be soothing, I finish gathering up the pages and walk out the room. Leaving Amy to her books.

 

Stopping halfway to the nurses station I pull out my phone and Tara’s card.

 

“Hello”. Sounds like she is driving.

 

“Hi, this is Alex. We talked a bit ago”. Some may say a lifetime ago.

 

“Hi. Did you have some questions? I’m almost at another client’s house so I don’t have a lot of time”. Good to know there are more in the city. Though I suppose that makes sense with Tara working here.

 

“I’ll be quick. I wanted to tell you I’ll do it. I’ll take care of Amy”. Saying it out-loud feels weird, but reassuring.

 

“That’s great. Are you free this evening? There are few things I need to go over”. The piles of paperwork in my future are worth it to keep her safe.

 

“I’ll be home at 7. Does that work for you?”. Hopefully they drug Amy before that.

 

“Sure. I’ll be there at 7”. This is really happening. 

 

“Thanks”. Despite how scared I was, I feel like enough to walk on clouds.

 

“You did the right thing”. Maybe someday she will see that. 

 

“Bye”. Finishing my walk to the nurses station, I recycle the paper before taking a deep breath and heading back.

 

You know. She was right. For the first time today I know I did the right thing.

[Guilend]

So far this is my favorite chapter. I love it.