January

I wake up laying in a hospital bed and my body is aching all over. The last thing I remember is walking along the high street the after seeing my girlfriend Sarah, off at the train station to go back to London, no wait, that was the day before. Sorry, I’m really tired, so let me start again.

My name is Lew and I had finally sold my business and taken early retirement at the grand old age of 58, moving down south and renting an apartment in a nice area over looking a harbour, while my girlfriend (it still feels strange to call an adult woman a girlfriend), stayed in London until she sold her house. Once that was done she was handing in her notice and joining me and we intended to take as many trips, cruises, holidays as we could and anything else we wanted to do. And of course buy a place to live rather than renting, I mean, I made a ton of money when I sold my marketing and PR company, and she will do very well with her house in London.

Anyway, here I am laying in bed in hospital, aching so much I wonder if I was hit by a bus or something when I look around. I have one of those pulse monitors on a finger and in a room by myself and out the window I can see the park opposite, so I’m definitely in an NHS hospital and not been moved to a private one. My girlfriend is in the chair next to me, fast asleep but I don’t want to wake her just yet. I reach down to scratch myself, and feel a lot of padding down there. I’m too tired to sit up, so just use my hands to try and work out what is going on.

I seem to be wearing a nappy.

Or a diaper if you live on a different continent.

I was a bit confused by that, but also relieved they hadn’t out a catheter up my penis. But also feeling embarrassed that I was so out of it that some poor underpaid nurse had to clean me up down there a couple of times a day.

So I lay there and did a mental check of my body to see what was working and what wasn’t, but to be honest it was pointless as I could feel that everything hurt everywhere. I tried to reach for the call button, and when I moved my girlfriend stirred so I decided to wait until she woke up and looked at me.

I said, “Morning.”

Her eyes snapped fully open, all traces of sleep gone and then it seemed a lot of things happened at once. Nurses were in checking me, taking my temperature, pulse rate and asking me how I felt, but they were only listening to my answers and not my questions; what happened to me?

After what seemed forever, and the only real answer I got was the doctor will talk to me, I was left alone with my girlfriend. I looked at her again and asked, “Sarah, what is going on?”

She was clearly thinking about what to say to me. She said, “Have you noticed you sound different?”

I told her off course I do, but suspect it’s because I had a tube down my throat at some point.

She said, “No, you haven’t had that.” She takes a deep breath and looks at me. “I got a call just after I arrived at Waterloo saying you had passed out in the high street, you know, the one with the shopping centre? Anyway, you were brought to hospital and I got here just when it started to happen.”

She pauses again, clearly there is something big she needs to tell me, but is struggling with finding the right words.

“You know how hard it is to find a bed long enough for you?”
I nodded, of course I know, all my adult life my feet have hung off the bottom of the bed and I’m only 6’3’’, or 190cm so I’ve just learned to live with in. She said, “Your feet aren’t hanging off the bed.”

I wonder what she means, but when I point my toes I’m still touching the mattress. Panic comes over me for a second so I lift myself up on my elbow and look down with a moan of pain and can see I still have legs. But beyond my feet I can see a lot of space before the end of the bed. I turn to her, feeling confused and lay back down.

And then I feel something else, I mean, I was never overweight but I had run to fat a little bit over the last few years with an expanding waistline, but when I looked down I didn’t see my belly, yet when I dropped back I did feel movement, man boob type movement.

I looked at Sarah, about to ask her to just tell me, when the door opened and in walked a nurse and a man in his late forties who is clearly a medical consultant, rather than the junior or mid level doctors you normally see on the wards.

They both look at me and smile, but I’m looking for hidden glances overloaded with bad news.

The consultant begins. “So I expect you have a lot of questions, but before you ask them, I have quite a few myself so I’m hoping you would be happy to answer them first?”

I nod, I mean, what else can I do?

He wanted to know all about my movements over the week before I passed out, followed by as much as I could tell him about the past four months. I felt like I was being interrogated by Dr House, giving as full a history of everything I had done, and while I was still confused about what is going on, this time I felt like I didn’t need to panic, they were clearly looking for answers to whatever happened to me.

Once I finished my personal history, he then told me everything they knew and what they have been doing. I don’t know why I didn’t faint, I mean, if I was standing I think I would have sat down for sure. I was definitely confused at first but the evidence was plain for me to see, even the photos and video on his iPad of everything that happened to me, but I still felt my body to confirm what they were saying.

He was with me for about an hour and half, and said he would come back tomorrow to give me time to let it all sink in so he could answer any more questions I might have. Which is fair, I mean, I was panicking a little, not a lot and was too tired to do more than say ‘what the actual fuck’ a lot.

I looked at Sarah but could think of nothing to say, and she just looked sadly at me with sympathy. She finally said, “It’s not that bad in the meantime.”

I laid back and just looked at the ceiling, and felt her stand up, touching my hand and saying she was going to get a coffee for us both, and watched her walk out the room and speak to a nurse, clearly checking if it was ok for me to have coffee.

Looking at the ceiling I thought about it, and with all the aches and pains, nothing had registered as being different with my body. If it hadn’t been for the sale of my company and the medicals I had to have for the insurance, the move and registering with a new doctor, the consultant said it would have been harder to find any explanations, even if they don’t know why. But it seems the reason I passed out started a few months ago.

The consultant had specialised as a geneticist, and I was lucky that this particular hospital had a very good human genome department covering a large part of the country. We all have a lot of junk DNA, it just does nothing, but some of mine seems to have been activated, and they had a short record of the change thanks to some detective work, then a lot of lab work since I was admitted.

My DNA then started to change one cell at a time, slowly at first, multiplying from one cell to more, until eventually enough had mutated to force a sudden change to my body, and that is why I passed out. Yes I had been aching a bit recently, but I just put it down to stress, or the release of stress once I was fully out of my old business at the end of the year.

Once I arrived at hospital, they did all the usual tests, but then I started to get very hot, and they stripped me and were trying to cool me down that they wiped a cold wet sponge on my chest and my chest hair came away. And that’s when things get very serious as they thought I might had been exposed to radioactive material (spoiler, I hadn’t).

And then it gets a bit gross, sorry. It seems I started to evacuate a lot of waste product, hence the need for the nappy. When I was being cleaned one of the nurses noticed the second evidence of what was happening to me, my genitals were changing, and then they noticed the most obvious change in that I was getting shorter.

And then things really sped up for me.

Over the next five days I went from being 190cm, to 134cm. As for the rest I think you can guess, my DNA directed my cells to change from XY chromosomes to XX, and it seems that the process was quite painful for me. Even though I was unconscious, they gave me drugs to keep me under and I was still in pain. Sarah was allowed to see me and sat with me, watching the change take place.

The nurse came in to see me and I was encouraged to go into the attached bathroom to have a look at my face. The nurse helped me up and kept me steady as I walked, and there in the mirror was a girl looking back at me.

Yes, a girl.

With the rewriting of the chromosomes, it seemed to have removed all the DNA that gets damaged with age, and my body literally consumed itself, burning tens of thousands of calories a day to do. The consultant read out a load of numbers that I was struggling to understand but he was quite excited about it. It was cute really, I mean, when people care about their work so much it excites them is always something I like to see.

Anyway, it seems based on their estimates and scans of my body, I seem to be physically around 12-13 years old. So looking at myself was a strange experience. I could see me, or at least the me I remember when I was younger, but now more feminine I guess. Where I was tall and a bit overweight, now I was short and, well, can I say slim or should I say healthy? I’m never sure of the right word to use, but it was one of them.

I will say standing there I was happy to be wearing the nappy, but the nurse was great. I think she must have realised I was wetting myself in fear, but said nothing beyond coming back a bit later to help me clean up.

So these few minutes alone to think about it, I lay back on the bed and let it all sink in and wonder if I am in some weird dream state before I die from the bus that has hit me, I suddenly feel tired and fall asleep.

I woke up the next day, and the first thing I knew is that I needed the toilet. I stand up and head to the bathroom, dropping the horrible but thankfully dry nappy on the floor and gather up my hospital gown and reach for the thing that isn’t there. OK, I think to myself, new plan, sit down instead, so I sat there and was surprised at the noise I was making as I released the pee. My new anatomy puts things in a different place, helping to confirm what I remembered from the day before.

Going back into the room, I sat on the bed and looked for my phone, and found it with a note from Sarah saying she had to go back to work but will call me in the evening. I was a bit lost, not really sure what to do and turned my phone on, taping in the code. I wondered if the face recognition would still work, but as I was about to try it the nurse came in asking how I felt, followed by the usual tests and asking me to collect a urine sample as she took some blood.

I felt quite lost really, not in control of my life, but she explained what will happen today, basically a lot of tests. And that was my life for the next week. Some of the tests were done in the room, sometimes I was wheeled to different parts of the hospital for more of them. I saw paediatrics, orthopaedics, and so many others I lost track and just trusted them as they tried to find out what was going on with me.

The consultant came back, and sadly despite trying to sound as positive as possible, the fact is they have no answers yet, other than I seem to be growing up quickly and they hope to have a better track of that now I can stand up and be measured. I saw a look pass between him and the nurse and she took hold of my hand as he said, “This next examination is going to be something new to you as you’re now awake, but you need to see a gynaecologist next. Are you ready for this?”

The nurse gave my hand a squeeze, and I said “I’m guessing they’ve seen me while I was out of it?”

Of course they did, but with the nurse, who I now know is called Jackie, we wheeled over there and she held my hand as the speculum was inserted and the lube was cold. How can I describe this? It was very different, and while invasive, not awful. Besides, I suspect I need to get used to it quickly.

The rest of the week was pretty much the same, with one minor difference. Each morning I was measured, requiring me to strip off and be checked over in detail, even the size of my feet and all of it was recorded and charted. Then I would pee in a bottle and collect another sample which I hated doing and pleased they stopped that one after three weeks. But the tests and exams went on and I became so used to being naked in front of people I began to think nothing of it. Each morning as part of the measuring they would take my photo, front, back and each side and always naked. So I started to do the same in the bathroom each morning, naked and then one of just my face. It’s funny watching my my buzzcut grow out as I flick through them.

All this gave me a chance to get to know my new body, and Jackie encouraged me to look at them as well and understand the changes, one of which was adding something to the list of things that Sarah will bring for me at the weekend. And yes, of course I examined myself with my hands, there was a lot of new things here to get used to.

But this evening my solicitor was coming round to visit. When I sent the email to him I wasn’t looking forward to trying to explain everything, but he told me that he was fully aware. He hadn’t been looking after me for long, only a month or so since I moved here, but we talked over all the legal things and he suddenly started laughing and I got annoyed.

He said, “You know, talking to you is quite funny really. I mean, I know it’s you in there, and how you talk, your phrasing and language is you, but you don’t look like you anymore. Hearing those words with that voice and looking like a teenage girl is just funny. I wonder what tees you should use when we next play golf?"

I looked at him not finding it funny at all, but then he burst out laughing uncontrollably, and blurted out, “And now you’re pouting!”

OK, that is funny, and slowly I began to join in. He then explained a bit more saying that when he walked in, he had been told what had happened, but seeing me sitting there looking nervous made me appear my physical age and it was a struggle for him to not try and explain everything he was saying as if talking to a teenager. But then, once I relaxed and was on familiar ground, my confidence made me look older, or at least seem older than I look.

When he finally left we shook hands and while I tried to squeeze his hand like I would have done, he held mine quite gently, just another reminder of my change in circumstances. Sleep did not come easily that night, and all I kept thinking about was the hope they would fix this and find a way to change me back.

The next day was a Saturday and Sarah arrived early. Sadly it was in the middle of my morning measurement session, so she saw me naked first thing in the morning. She went to back out but I could see she had two bags with her so I just invited her in and we chatted. I of course was used to being naked around her, but she didn’t look at me, and I realised then that until this was over our relationship had changed, but I was thankful she hadn’t abandoned me.

Once the medical stuff had finished, we were left alone. As it was a Saturday, I only had two others appointments booked in, a full body MRI this morning, and in the afternoon a visit from a shrink, which I really wasn’t looking forward to. Sarah tipped out the two bags on the bed and I got to see what the brought for me. She’d picked up my iPad and laptop, my phone charger which really pleased me so I didn’t need to keep asking the nurses, and a lot of clothes.

Sarah said, “First things first, these should fit you and I’ve picked up plenty to keep you going.” And she handed me some Calvin Klein underwear. I looked at the bikini cut underwear stepped into them, pulling them up my legs and they were a snug fit. I looked down at myself and ran my hand over the front, slightly dipping underneath and even a week of having this body, I was still getting used to not seeing what wasn’t down there. I picked up the bra and asked, “How did you know what size to get?”

“I didn’t, these are small and there’s some medium ones there as you said you were growing a bit.”

Thankfully the bra was one that you pull over your head, one of those sporty ones and I couldn’t help but wonder if she got these as I once commented on how great similar ones look on her. The ones I put on were grey and there were a few other colours including pink. I picked those up and looked up at her. It felt like I had only now just noticed she is taller than me now, and would need her help with getting down those boxes I had put on top of the wardrobe now.

Once I had the bra on I looked at her and asked, “Is this right?” She smiled, and pointed out there’s not many ways to put them on wrong, and said, “But I am glad you’re wearing something now, it’s quite weird for me to see you naked.”

I looked down at myself and realised this is just as hard on her as it is for me.

Anyway, ten minutes later I’m wearing a pair of leggings and a grey hoody top, slipping my feet into a pair of white trainers she had picked up that were way too big for me feet, but a lot better than the hospital slippers I had been wearing, and thankful not to have my arse on display anymore. When it was time for the MRI, I wanted to walk through the hospital for a change, and as Jackie was on duty today, who when on duty seems to have been allocated to me, I was allowed to.

It was good to get some exercise as I was aching a lot less than before, but walking slower than I would have before. Jackie was keeping a very close eye on me, but I was ok. Now I was walking, looking at the world from my new height was a strange experience, but maybe weirder was the few kids in the hospital my physical age. The girls would give me friendly smiles, so would some of the boys which was very weird, a few men did as well and I started to get a bit of a complex, thinking I had something on my face. Jackie saw me and in the lift gave me hand a gentle squeeze and told me it was ok.

It was the same on the way back as well, and once back in the safety of my room my lunch had been delivered and Sarah went off to get something from the onsite shop, Jackie said to me, “It’s ok, you don’t have to worry, no one knows about you.”

“Then why were they all looking at me?”

She gave me a gentle smile and said, “Because you’re cute.”

My mouth dropped open and I wanted to shout at her, but I’m not blind, I can see what I look like in the mirror. Anyway, I was less talkative with Sarah when she came back, but she was heading back to my apartment before the shrink came in to see, coming back in the evening.

The shrink, who kept telling me she wasn’t a shrink but a psychotherapist and is here to just talk to me. Her name is Annette, about mid to late 40’s I guess, quite stylish and she was really nice. I was a bit reluctant to talk at first as my generation (in the UK at least), have never been good at that, but as I pointed out to her at the end of our two hour chat, she was really sneaky about getting me to open up. She did say it’s her job.

Anyway, she got me talking about my past, my old work, my very strange working history (left school at 16 with no qualifications, became an infantry soldier, left and got a dead end job but did an open university degree. Then after working for four years started my own company as a freelance, got a Masters degree and an MBA, sold up to relax till I die). But she somehow got me talking about how I feel right now, how weird it must feel to wear a bra, having a speculum inside me (I told her how my eyes went wide the first time it opened up, and she told me about her first experience of it and did the same).

At the end of the session she told me she would be back again and try and speak to me at least three times a week, making sure she has regular chats with me. She said, “I know it might feel strange, and I want you to trust me like you would your closet friend.”

I nodded, not really believing that, but I appreciated the sentiment.

I mean, I am kinda freaking out right now, there’s a lot going on physically with me with absolutely no answers, but I’m trying not to take it out on people. Annette did say that I should tell people how I felt as it would help them in how they deal with me until there are some real answers.

Anyway, I felt a bit better when Sarah was back that evening, and we talked more. I apologised for not thinking about how this must feel for her, and for the first time since the train station we hugged.

But it was different.

I told her at the end of the day to not worry about coming back tomorrow, get the train and go home so she isn't tired for work and I could see the relief in her eyes.

But on Sunday I got a different visitor to one I expected, a man from the hospital media relations department. Jackie stood next to them and she did not look happy about him being here, but I think I could guess why. I said to him, “So you got a call from the tabloid press?”

He just nodded, and I said I would need my solicitor here and sent him a quick text. We had discussed this early on, and while it wasn’t his field he knew the right people to talk to and got things ready. I asked the man to go and get a coffee, opened up my laptop and started typing with Jackie looking at me. I said to her, “It’s ok, this used to be my job.” Strangely, for once I felt in a control for the first time since I woke up here.

When the media relations officer got back, my solicitor was here and I was signing the papers, getting a temporary injunction to keep my identity and details out of the press. I asked the media guy for his work email and sent him the prepared statement he would deliver telling the press that if they ran any story with my personal details they would be in breach of a court injunction.

While knowing some of what happened to me might be in the public interest in case it happens to someone else, knowing who I am is not in the public interest is not and I wanted to kill the story quickly. In short, it worked quite well and while there was a story for a couple of days about the man who suddenly became female (see, careful wording in the statement), as there were no details about who I was or anything for them to try and dig up the news cycle moved and and no-one bothered me.

The next week was a repeat of every other day and I was bored stupid with it all, beyond the fact that I seemed to be growing up fast and feeling like a pin cushion and depth calculator. The third weekend Sarah visited with another bag of clothes and I had my dirty clothes ready to hand to her at the end of the visit, but I could tell from her face something was wrong.

“Are you ok?”

She looked tense, really tense, and it’s not like I couldn't guess what was going to happen, so I decided to ease her pain. While both of us are the innocent party here and didn’t want this to happen, it did, but it mainly happened to me. Sarah is the truly innocent one here.

I said, “You know, I was thinking. While all this is going on you should take your house of the market. We have no idea how long I’m going to be in here, how long it will take to turn me back, and it’s unfair on you. I mean, I didn’t want to be a girl, but you didn’t want to date a teenage girl either.”

She looked at me with tears in here eyes and mouthed ‘thank you’, and we hugged again, and the tears started for both of us. It was a really sad day, but I would have been an absolute bastard to make her wait, and if she had said it she would have felt unbelievably guilty. I cried quite a bit after she left, and the medical staff were great and really understanding, but the truth is I felt very, very alone.

And the next weekend, it wasn’t even discussed if she would visit or not, I just assumed she wouldn't and she didn’t. At least we still talked, even if not every day and she always responded to my texts. Annette said she was pleased that I made it easier for Sarah, but I completely broke down and cried about it, ugly snot bubbles cried about it. But once that happened I felt better, and was able to have Sarah as a girl friend, rather than a girlfriend. Maybe we will stop talking at some point like all ex’s, but so far we can talk without the feeling of pressure and for that I was thankful.

But to be honest, there was something else that happened the day after we officially stopped being a couple. I was in the lift with Jackie, on my way back from another internal exam wondering if next time I could get them to laugh at my joke about the echo while they talked to me, when the lift stopped and a man got in. He was early to mid thirties, slim, athletic looking, well dressed and my underwear was wet from looking at him!

My eyes went wide and my face went red and I tried not to stare, but Jackie saw it and gave me a smile and a little nod. I could read what she was thinking, the first time I had ever been able to communicate with a woman in this silent way. She was saying ‘me too’.

I folded my arms as my nipples felt erect and tried not to look at him, but it was impossible not to steal glances at him, not just his face but his body and I was absentmindedly imagining what he looked like under his clothes and OMG!

What the hell does this mean, but the lift dinged and he turned to smile at me and Jackie, and my underwear was more like a flood now!

When the doors closed, she looked at me and said, “Wow, he was unbelievably hot!”

But me, I was silent all the way back to my room where I threw myself at the bed trying to hide my face. I heard the door open and guessed it was Jackie and felt her sit on the bed, gently stroking my hair as she said, “It’s ok, really, it’s ok.”

I started to calm down, but my face still felt like it was on fire as I sat up and looked at her. “What’s wrong with me?”

She pulled me into a hug and said, “Nothing honey, you’re a growing woman now, with woman’s hormones flooding your system. If your body has changed, why shouldn't other things?”

“But, I’m a man.”

She gave me a squeeze and and said, “Lew, I’ve held your hand as they’ve used a speculum to look at your cervix. Are you sure about that?”

And once again I cried. Annette was with me in the afternoon and it turns out they’ve all been expecting me to breakdown and now it’s finally happened. The rest of the day I was left to myself beyond Jackie and the other nurses checking in on me every now and then, but my mind was dealing with a lot so I was ok with that.

The next day, the consultant, Annette and Jackie came in to see me and I got a lot of bad news at once. It seems they still have no idea what caused this, that while I woke up as a 12/13 year old, I’m now a 13/14 year old and they have no idea what the accelerated growth means. But at least I’m taller now something I’ve noticed myself with my own photo record and the trainers Sarah got me fitting better. But they also don’t know what this change will mean for me in the short term in that I might keep aging at this rate then die. Or if in the long term my growth slows down and I will age to my actual age and then die or keep going. They just don’t know.

“And there’s something else you need to know. We’ve been tracking your hormones and, well, we believe you’re going to start your period in the next couple of days and we wanted to give you some warning.”

My mouth fell open.

He said, “I’ll leave you with Jackie and Annette. In case you want to talk to anyone about this.” Clearly he thinks that this is a subject best discussed between women, something I’m still struggling with accepting.

Watching him leave, I said, “Soooooo, I might die soon, but in the meantime at least I won’t bleed to death.”

They both of course offered to be available to talk about the big issue, but I wanted to talk about the more immediate issue. “What should I use, a pad or a tampon?”

Both took a hand out of their pockets and Annette held out a pad, Jackie held out a tampon, followed by a conversation about their uses and merits. The next morning, when I went to the bathroom and collected the daily pee sample I noticed a blood spot on my underwear, and after a shower, the tampon was the one in the bathroom so a quick google for how and it was in.

No big deal. I stepped into my room naked as once again it was the daily measurement and photo session and it wasn’t until they left that Jackie said, “So you choose tampon?” And her eyes flicked down. I had a look and of course the string is hanging there, so I rolled my eyes and started to get dressed and asked her help in picking what I should use.

I like Jackie, I mean, I know she’s a nurse and paid to look after me, but in all the time we’ve spent together she feels like a friend. After going in the hospital shop, she offered to buy me a coffee and we sat in the coffee chain, both drinking and just chatting away, her asking about my life, me asking about hers. But I did keep looking outside at the people sitting on the benches out there.

She saw me looking and read my mind, saying, “I’ve asked for you, and they are thinking about letting you sit out there sometimes, but they are worried. You were growing about a centimetre a day for a week, now you’ve slowed down and they want to see if it stops and becomes stable before they reales you into the supervised community.”

I said, “You are really getting my hopes up here.”

“And now I’ve told you that I will watch you like a hawk to make sure you don’t try and pretend you’re still only five foot tall! By the way, your boyfriend is outside.”

She was looking over my shoulder through the big windows, and I turned and there he was again, the hot man, sitting there with a takeaway coffee and smoking a cigarette and I said, “God, he’s hot!”

My eyes went wide and I looked back at her and we both started to giggle. “Stop it, it’s not fair, I’m not used to this.”

She put her hand on mine and said, “You don’t realise this, but you’ve been looking at men since you woke up. I noticed it, your ex noticed it. It just took some pre-menstrual hormones to trigger the realisation in you. Plus your heightened emotional responses. You’ve been going through a lot, so just relax. Besides, it means we can talk about boys as well now.”

I looked back at the hot guy, wondering who he is, guessing he must be visiting someone here, probably his wife. Oh god, now I’m imagining what he is like in real life! I looked back to Jackie and said, “This is such a nightmare.”

“Yep, but it has it’s advantages. They hold open doors for you, and while they struggle to find your clit, they can go to the shop to buy batteries, although rechargeable vibrators are a much better option than buying thousands of batteries.”

I looked back at him, and while I know nothing will happen, I did find myself daydreaming a little about it while we talked and headed back. Once in my room I looked through the bags Sarah had dropped off and found what I was looking for, heading for the shower.

Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and it opened before I could say anything, and that’s how Jackie found me. I had just finished having my legs with a couple of small nicks around my ankles, but shaving my copious amount of pubic hair off. She said, “With more practice it gets easier shaving around your ankles.” She gave me a quick wink and walked out. When I went back to the main room, there was a note on the bed and some moisturiser telling me what I needed to do next.

Yeah, she’s a friend.

The next day was a funny one, when they came in to do my measurements I was naked as usual and the tampon string was a lot more obvious with no hair down there. I really enjoyed getting into bed last night and feeling the sheets on my hairless skin, everything just felt so much more sensitive, but really, even with the less hair on the female body, it was more like something had changed in my head. I spoke about it with Annette later that day and she said it was just normal behaviour, I was going through another puberty so the experiments in how I look is what every teenager goes through. But I did admit to her that I quite liked how I felt down there, possibly the first time I had admit to touching myself in a somewhat sexual way to her.

On Friday afternoon I was given some good news for a change from Annette and the consultant, it seems that this week I hadn’t grown at all, and I seem to have settled at the moment around a physical age of 13/14, and still only five feet tall, or 152cm if you prefer. There was only one question I had for them.

“Can I at least sit outside now with a coffee?”

Annette and the consultant exchanged a look and Annette said, “Of course.”

I stood up immediately saying ‘Thank christ for that!’, and started looking for my wallet while they told me the rules. I was allowed outside the hospital on the benches out there, and if I continue to stay stable, I would then be allowed to go for a walk in the park, maybe even an escorted trip outside just to be on the safe side.

The consultant said, “I believe Jackie has become someone you trust and she has volunteered to look after you on her day off if everything goes well, so long as it’s a weekend and there’s no examinations scheduled.”

I was holding my wallet and stuck it into the pocket of my hoody and said, “I’m going for a coffee now, is that ok?”

Annette was smiling at me, trying to hold in a laugh, as the consultant said, “Yes, but Lew, I would have thought by now you would be over the addiction and wouldn’t need to smoke.”

Busted! I tried to hide the packet and lighter from them both, I really didn’t want a lecture but got one anyway. I walked out the door not even waiting for them as I said “I know, I know.” I stopped and looked back, “Thank you, I really mean it. I know I’m not a prisoner but I have been so bored!”

Making my way down to the main entrance to grab a coffee by myself felt liberating after four weeks being watched all the time, five if you include while I was out of it. Anyway, I was smiling and loving every second.

Once I had my coffee I stepped outside into the fresh air, taking a deep breath and I sat on the only empty bench, took out a cigarette and lit it, sipping on my coffee and for the first time in weeks felt free. Just sitting there and enjoying what little sun there is was worth it. It was a little cold, I mean, it is February, but in the sunlight it was ok as I just enjoyed it and finished my cigarette.

I don’t how long I was sitting there for, just enjoying the moment but I sensed someone was walking towards me and then sitting down. I looked across and they mentioned to the bench and said, “Sorry, I hope it’s ok.”

I didn’t say anything, just nodded. It was the hot guy from the lift, and he is sitting next to me. Ok, not next to me but the other end of the bench, but it’s the same thing, right? I was thinking all sorts of things such as in the past I would have just struck up a conversation with him, but now he is seeing me a different way to what my brain still sometimes thinks I look.

Come, on, get a grip. You’re just two people sitting outside a hospital.

He takes a packet of cigarettes out his pocket and looks at me and says, “Do you mind?”

“No, it’s fine.” Thinking on my feet I take my own packet out and say, “Do you have a light?”

He does a double take and says, “Are you old enough to smoke?”

“Trust me, I’m older than you think.”

He looks closely at me, and I can feel some of that wetness forming down there again, but I try to focus beyond it, saying, “I’ve been cooped up for a few weeks and this is the first time they’ve let me out. I’m grabbing the chance while I can.”

He says, “Yeah, I had my appendix out a few years ago and it was a nightmare going without them. I should stop really.”

We lapse into silence and I’m trying to think of what to say, or more accurately trying not to ask the question I want to ask but my teenage hormones get the better of me. “Are you visiting someone?”

He turns to look at me and I say, “Sorry, stupid question, if you’re a patient it might be a private thing.”

He gives me a little look, then says, ‘No, it’s fine. I’m a teacher and have a student whose in with a broken leg and trying to make sure they stay up to date to get their biology A Level.”

Why does he have to be a nice person! Now I will need to change my underwear the moment I get back to my room. “Oh, well I hope they are ok and get released soon. If not I’m thinking of forming an escape committee, dig three tunnels to get everyone out at once.”

He looks a bit confused, so I carry on. “You know, Stalag Luft 3.” He still looks confused, so I added, “You must have seen The Great Escape?”

He says, “Yes, I have. I’m just surprised you have as well.”

“Like I said, I’m older than you think".