I woke up slowly – first I became aware of the muffled conversations happening around me, and I struggled to pick out any meaning. Some “the”s and “yes”es crossed my ears, but the words flowed right past my ears without slipping in.

My head was hammering, I tried to rack my brain – where was I? I had left work and bumped into someone, a friend?

I began to realise that there was a harsh beeping sound every few seconds. I supposed that I had been hearing it but successfully ignoring it. I was quickly jealous of my prior self’s ignorance.

I felt movement, my body lurched down and then up and then left and backward and right and forwards.

Some more chattering past me occurred, and then something to me. I couldn't make out the intent. I moaned a response, now aware that my mouth was numb and my throat wished it was. It felt like I had a ball of sandpaper clogging my throat, and I rasped out a "water?".

Too long later, I felt myself moving, my body was being leant forward, and a straw appeared in my mouth. It hurt to drink, but it hurt more to stop. I leant away and a pill was placed on my tongue. I could make out "take this", and the straw reappeared in my mouth.

My brain stopped pounding not too long later, and I could feel the sensation of grey matter bashing against my skull wash away.

I became more aware of where I was. The harsh fluorescent lighting which was hanging right above my face screamed "hospital".

I tried to lean on my elbow, but as I went to sit up, sending instructions to my legs to move, a pain began to shoot through me.

I glanced down, over my torso covered by a white blanket, and saw my left leg was strapped into what looked like an enormous ice-pack, and my right was sitting elevated on a triangular pillow, bandaged all the way up to my mid thigh. I was in a gurney still, and the eight more ahead of me leading down the hallway and into the doors labeled "Accident and Emergency" didn't give me much hope for a speedy recovery.

My legs now hurting me too much, I returned to my position, lying down, eyes front at the lights, and tried to fall back asleep.

---

I jostled back up a little later, reflexively trying to move, and again my legs responded with pain, more this time. I swore. Someone was tapping my shoulder. I looked up and -

"Sorry, I just need to check some things"

She held up a thermometer and a cuff, which by a series of wires was attached to a machine it looked like she was carting around.

I complied with her instructions and she rattled off some numbers.

"Are they good or bad?"

I tried to smile.

"They're pretty normal. Temperature is fine, and blood pressure is exactly what I'd expect for someone who is rapidly sobering up after breaking one and a half legs."

I laughed, which moved my leg, and I bit my tongue.

"Hey, sorry to ask, but I'm really hungry, and thirsty, do you know what the story is about food here?"

She shrugged, "I'm only a student, and I'm new - honestly the best people to ask are the guards".

"Oh, before I leave, do you need..." she lowered her voice, "more protection?"

I looked at her. I didn't understand exactly what she was referencing. After a second she pointed her eyes to my crotch and back and I had a grave realization.

I stammered, "I don't know, I haven't checked, I wasn't really paying attention, I've been asleep -"

She interrupted me, "No problem, if you need anything, I'll be back in about two hours, but there's always someone in the waiting hallway".

She looked down at the base of her machine, kicked something on its wheels, heaved, and moved away.

I was hoping my face wasn't too red.

I had been worn a diaper to work. I'd only worn one as an adult a handful of times and the fantasy of it was so appealing. I had then left and - ? The memories were fuzzy. I'd ended up at a bar for some reason, and must have been wet when I came in.

I looked around. The people lying in front and behind me were asleep, and the hall was empty. I pulled my blanket to the side a little and reached down to check. I was, in fact, wet again.

I say "again", because I was no longer in the flesh-pink "discrete" pull-up model advertised to menopausal women, but a very bulky white diaper with tapes. Or, used-to-be-white.

I dropped the blanket and sulked for a second.

"Oh, if you need a fresh one, I can wheel you somewhere private, if you can change yourself"

His voice came from right in front of me. I glared, trying to get across my embarrassment. I didn't need diapers.

On the other hand, I didn't know what the plan was to go to the bathroom if I couldn't move my legs. I'd much rather the indignity of having to ask for a diaper every few hours than having to ask someone to get me a bottle to piss into and then flagging them to hand it back later on. That, and the fact that it would be pretty hot to be able to wet myself in front of people. I'd never tried - I'd always, up to now, just worn them, at least the handful of times I had the opportunity.

I nodded at him, and he gave me a thumbs up.

---

A few hours later I reached the top of the queue, and not too long later I was knocked out, and I woke up in a cast. The painkillers they used for this made me quite tired, and not too long after I woke up from the manipulation, I fell back asleep.

---

The next morning I woke to a man in a suit.

"Hi!"

"Hi?" I returned.

"I'm with social protection - I liaise with you to see if you need any outpatient assistance, or if you're entitled to any disability or community assistance"

I nodded.

He queried me for close to an hour - did I have a job? A job I could work on crutches? A job I could work in a wheelchair? Did I live in a house or an apartment? Did my apartment block have an elevator?

Eventually, he hushed a little, "do you need the State to supply you with, or reimburse you, for any medicines or ... medical devices?" He hung his mouth a little before closing it.

"Well, idk what painkillers they have me on right now, or what they'll put me on, or what my insurance covers to be honest."

He nodded

"And...?" He flicked the back of his hand and pointed hit pen at my crotch.

Oh.

"Oh."

I paused. I didn't know how to respond.

"Well, I'd have to check with my insurance, wouldn't want to take from the State if the department is under-resourced and I don't need it."

He nodded again.

"Well, you'll be out of here pretty soon. If you can't give me an answer, I can organize at least a few days of medications to be sent with you, but pads are pretty cheap for us, we buy -" he paused and started tallying something on his fingers, before giving up, "sooo many, I could give you a years supply and it'd be fine, if you're worried about our budget."

I took a cue from him and nodded.

"Thanks, I'll phone my insurance later and try get back to you."

---

Over the next few hours, nurses and physiotherapists and trainees and doctors came to my bed with drugs and advice and questions, and I never got around to phoning anyone, except my roommate, Imogen, to pick me up.

I was helped out of my bed and into a wheelchair. My left leg, still plastered, stuck out, and my right, wrapped in bandaged, were covered in a blanket and I was wheeled down to the lobby.

My friend waved, and I was wheeled to her car, and managed to lift myself into the passenger seat, pulling the crutches they had s.

There was some conversation, and the car boot opened, letting cold air in.

After a second, Imogen jumped into the driver seat.

"So, they gave me a wheelchair"

I looked at her surprised

"They wouldn't tell me much about your leg, but they said I could, 'just in case' when the guy came out with a bag for your meds."

I nodded, and thanked her for picking me up.

"You much have been really hurt Miri, I mean, it's a big bag"

I shrugged, I hadn't read any of my discharge papers when I was let out, but I had had a brief glance at the surprisingly long prescription I had been issued. Lots of painkillers and a few different types of antibiotics that google had assured me were relatively normal.

---

When we got back to the apartment, I struggled halfway from the parking space to the front door before I collapsed into Imogen.

"Okay, they were right, can you get the wheelchair from the car?"

She helped me hop to the wall, and I watched her pull a flat-packed piece of metal and cloth out of her car. She shook it and it formed into shape, and then grabbed a bag from the car. It was quite big - it was a weird cube, similar to what food delivery bags look like.

I watched my roommate sprint up to me with the wheelchair, and I smiled at her as I fell into the chair.

"I'm sorry, but I'm exhausted."

---

Once up the elevator and down the hall, Imogen leaned down "you good from here?"

It'd be pretty difficult to manipulate a wheelchair in our apartment. I pulled my crutches off my lap and slowly stood up.

"Yea, love you so much, I owe you"

I hopped through the door and turned back to her.

"Can you drop my bag into me in a sec, I need to change out of these", I waved down at the clothes I had worn in. My jeans were long gone, but my shirt and underwear survived, and I had combined them with the paper gown I had been given, but I still smelled horrific.

"I'll cook you dinner later to say thanks"

Imogen smirked,

"You'll be okay to stand over the stove?"

"I'll pay for Chinese later to say thanks"

She laughed, and agreed.

I limped into my room, and swiveled to fall backwards onto my bed.

Imogen opened the door and tossed the bag at me. It landed with a thud next to me on the bed. I gave her a thumbs up and leant up to open it.

Inside was, in order, spare copies of my papers and prescriptions, a guidebook for getting disability payments, a helpline, several miscellaneous business cards, and ... taking up most of the cube was two packs of diapers. Thick, white, tapes and thicccc. I shut the bag closed and placed it on my floor. Then I changed my mind and shifted myself around my bed, leant over and opened my closet door and shunted the bag in. The exertion was exhausting me. I pondered the contents of the bag, which felt more perverse now, as I was more divorced from the context of being in hospital.

I pushed myself off the bed and as I stood up, I felt the swinging weight of a full diaper pulling away from my skin, and the weight pulling down on my hips.

I frowned. I didn't remember wetting.