It Wasn't a Mistake by Tiffany B. Quinn How bad can things get? In his darkest hour, Jerry finds out that his life has been one big character test... And he passed! Going back to work is problematic.

Chapter Four: Going Back to Work

It’s been a month since the accident. I was in the hospital for a week after regaining consciousness before the medical folks decided that I didn’t need to be there anymore. They still don’t know what is happening with my fever or with my hair, weight and height loss. They ran a lot of tests which returned strangely mixed results. Apparently my hormones are a bit off. My testosterone hormone level is substantially lower than it should be and dropping. My estrogen levels are up significantly and look like those of a very young preteen girl. Other indicators are similarly haywire. Ultrasounds and MRIs are showing signs of some strange happenings which have the doctors totally baffled. Regardless of these funky results I don’t seem to be in imminent danger and there is nothing more they can do for me except give me low grade pain meds to match the low grade fever and help relieve the ache in my bones. For the foreseeable future I have to see Mike once a week for further tests and data gathering.

It only took a couple of days after regaining consciousness for me regain my balance and some semblance of strength. The fever dropped to a little bit lower level and the rate of my weight and height loss tapered off slightly. I was five foot nine and a half inches tall and weighed in at one hundred ninety three pounds when they released me from the hospital. That’s a loss of two and a half inches in height and thirty two pounds in weight in just two weeks.

Now, two weeks after my hospital release, my height and weight reduction seems to be continuing. I stand at five foot eight inches and my weight is down to one hundred seventy seven pounds. I am by far the shortest person in the family now. Samantha is next at five foot eleven inches and the boys range from six foot three inches to six foot six inches. Samantha is pleased to be taller than her Dad now.

A piece of good news is that my hair is starting to grow again and there doesn’t seem to be any grey in it. It is short and looks like a military buzz cut. It is growing back in places which had started to go bald the past few years. It is also growing back under my arms and in the pubic area—which itches some. The nice thing is that it is coming back in the same color of red which I had in my youth. I’ve noticed that my beard growth has not restarted and my arm & leg hair is very fine and light colored. I don’t have any chest or back hair either.

Since none of my clothes fit anymore—and I suspect that they never will—they have been donated to charity. We’ve been cautious about buying more than absolutely needed until my shrinking stops. In fact, much of my new wardrobe has come from the same charity shop to which I donated my old clothes. No sense in investing a lot on clothes which might not fit in a few weeks.

I had lots of visitors during my last week in the hospital. Everyone expresses relief that Aileen and I had been vindicated. I remember that most of them had kept their distance during my dark days, but I don’t hold that against them. I now know, however, who I can rely on in a pinch—pretty much nobody.

Most of them didn’t seem to know what to say regarding my physical changes. Some seemed uncomfortable and acted as if they were afraid of catching whatever disease I have. Others were absolutely intrigued and seemed to have no end of questions and speculations. I heard a wide range of theories on the cause—everything from mysterious seawater viruses to curses cast by sea witches. They all agreed it had something to do with being dumped in the water and nearly dying. Except for the basics that I shared with Samantha, I haven’t shared the whole story with anyone.

I’ve made a couple of trips to the doctor for more tests and follow up work. One of the tests was a stress test and an echocardiogram. Given my weakened condition, I wasn’t able to do the treadmill at the rate I have in the past, but the attending doctor thought that everything looked good. The echocardiogram also showed that my heart is in good shape and that my Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy is actually getting slightly better—this is unheard of. Substantial damage was anticipated as a result of the several heart attacks I experienced after the accident but, remarkably, no damage was found.

I’ve been developing crow’s feet around my eyes in recent years. Those are starting to slowly disappear along with some aging related skin issues. I am starting to look more like I did when I was in my late twenties. A visit to my dermatologist resulted in a clean bill of health—the patches he was watching for potential skin cancer have all cleared up. This apparent reversal in aging of both my skin and heart continues to baffle the doctors. I personally like it.

The blood tests continue to be interesting. My cholesterol levels have dropped to the point that I have been taken off my cholesterol medication—something else I like. My testosterone level is continuing to decrease well below what is expected of a male my age. My estrogen levels are maintaining the level of a young girls’ at the onset of puberty. The doctors tried giving me additional testosterone but it has had no impact on the decline. It seems that the testosterone from the shots does not stay in my blood stream for more than an hour or so. Pills are no better.

Samantha moved in with me and took up residence in her childhood bedroom. That first week home I was so weak that it was all I could do to get cleaned up in the morning and do some basic chores around the house before collapsing on the couch for the rest of the day. I did get stronger to the point that now I’m feeling pretty good—if it wasn’t for the low grade fever and constant ache in my bones. My strength levels are well below what they used to be, so it was good to have Samantha around to help with a home reorganization.

Samantha has cooked up some really strange dishes which I have had trouble eating. She is way into organic foods and vegetables. I miss my meat and potatoes diet. I have been ordering the occasional meat lovers pizza for home delivery which disgusts her no end. As I need to start putting the weight back on, I made a run to the store as soon as I felt up to it and stocked up on a lot of unhealthy, high in fat and calories, American foods.

Eating my normal diet of fattening foods only slightly slows down the weight loss.

I’ve used up a sizeable chunk of my sick leave and there is no reason to delay my return to work any longer. The boss says that everyone is anxious to have me back as several projects are in disarray and they need my talents to settle them down. Apparently the office turmoil associated with my recent troubles was not good for the organization.

So today will be my first day back.

That is if I can manage to find something to wear to the office. Even the clothes we bought late last week are getting to be a little too big for me. Putting on a suit we picked up at the charity shop on our last visit, I look like a kid fresh out of college who borrowed his father’s suit. I opt for business casual instead, but that doesn’t look much better.

“I don’t know,” Samantha frowns as she looks me over. “I don’t care much for business attire anyway, but this looks so wrong on you right now. I’m sorry to say it Dad, but you look like a kid starting his first job. “

Looking me over again with closer scrutiny, she adds: “If you were a girl, it would be easier to do this as girls can get away with just about anything and call it a fashion statement.”

“Well,” I reply with some exasperation, “I’m not a girl, last I checked, so we just need to do the best we can.”

What I don’t tell her is that I dearly wish I was a girl—I always have. I’m not much of a male anymore and that doesn’t bother me at all. Those defining genitals have been shrinking at a rate slightly faster than the rest of me. Even my friendly doctor has commented that, with this and the other symptoms, I seem to be doing a reverse puberty.

In the end we decide to go with casual slacks with the belt pulled in tight (we had to punch extra holes in the belt even though it worked fine a couple of weeks ago when we picked it up at the charity shop), a polo shirt which hangs fairly loose and my new shoes with an extra pair of socks.

“Do you mind if I drop you off at work?” Samantha asks. “I’d like to use the car today to go pick up some groceries and drop off that stuff we boxed up for charity.”

We’ve spent the past couple of weeks going through Aileen’s mountain of clothes and other possessions. We’ve invited family and her friends over to take what they want then we had a yard sale and sold much of the rest. The remainders are going to charity. It has been emotionally difficult for me to get rid of all of this stuff as it is an attachment to Aileen, who I still grieve. Samantha, on the other hand, has been persistently ruthless. I couldn’t have done it without her. I have kept back some special jewelry pieces and other particularly sentimental items; such as Aileen’s wedding dress, to keep her in remembrance. Samantha has decimated my closets as well. The house feels strangely empty. Samantha has worked hard to make it so.

“Sure,” I reply sadly. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

------< O >-----

What a non-productive day!

It was as if I were the center attraction of a freak show. I got in before anyone else and went straight to my office in order to get a handle on what was happening with our projects. The morning was basically spent answering questions from just about everyone in the office. They’d stop into my corner office one or two at a time to welcome me back. They all seemed shocked when they saw me. Let’s face it—I’m not the man I used to be. A couple of them didn’t seem to recognize me at first. I guess that you can hardly blame them.

I met with the boss and we decided to hold a meeting for the whole office so that we could address everyone’s questions at once. The hope is that the correct information would get out and that everyone would get back to work instead of whispering about me.

“Jerry,” the boss says, “everyone’s in the training room. It’s time.”

With a sigh, I push out of my chair and follow him into the meeting room. Almost all forty of the staff from our division is in the room—the only ones missing are those off on business trips. The noise level drops completely when I enter the room. There is an air of expectation. After all, it’s not every day that one of the senior members of the organization goes through age regression.

“Hi, everyone,” I start. “Judging from the number of visitors in my office this morning I’m sure that you are all interested in what’s happening with me. Before I get started, I want to thank everyone who stood by me during the recent issues with our former co-worker.” Actually there were not any real strong supporters in the bunch, but it’s as nice thing to say in case someone out there was a closet supporter. “And thank you for the condolences for the untimely death of my sweetheart.” There hadn’t been a lot of those either.

“As you know,” I continue, “I decided to take a break and go kayaking for a couple of weeks. As I was starting to head home, I made a stupid decision to make a crossing in fog. The end result being that I was run over by a tour boat. Fortunately for me, they saw me and did a fairly quick rescue. I ingested a lot of seawater, contracted hypothermia, and had multiple heart attacks. There was a doctor on board the tour boat who restarted my heart with an AED and performing first aid for hypothermia. The Coast Guard picked me up from the boat and delivered to me to our regional hospital where the ER doctor on duty (who happened to be my son) was able to stabilize me and get me the help I needed to survive.

“After a week in a coma, I awoke in a hospital bed with a mild case of pneumonia. Again, thank you those of you who sent your regards and/or visited—I sincerely appreciate it. For a reason not yet understood by the medical staff, I was running a high fever and losing substantial weight and height. I really needed to lose a few pounds anyway so I was pleased at first.“ This brought some laughter from the group.

“Oh yeah,” I continue, “and I lost all my hair.” To illustrate the fact, I ran my hand over the red stubble which had grown back.

“Since then, I have continued to lose weight and height, almost like an accelerated reverse puberty. I didn’t like puberty the first time around, I don’t think I’m enjoying its reverse.” This gets a few chuckles. “My heart issues have actually improved. All in all, however, it is nice to feel younger again.”

“As I said, we don’t know what’s causing my body issues, but the regression does seem to be slowing down.”

“Anybody have questions?” I ask.

People seem to be rather nervous about starting the question session, but it warms up after the first few questions.

“How much more are you going to regress?” one curious soul enquires.

“Nobody knows. This is outside anyone’s experience. I’m hoping not much more. The rate of change is tapering off. Hopefully it will level off soon.”

“Is it contagious?” a concerned coworker tentatively asks.

“I doubt it. However, I suggest that you don’t go getting run over by a tour boat! Maybe that’s what triggered it.”

“Are you still planning to retire?” one of the team leaders asks. “We can still use you around here and you don’t appear to be retirement age anymore.”

“Thanks for the compliment. Yes, I am still planning on retiring, but it is not as urgent now.”

“I hate to ask this, Jerry,” one of my closer colleagues points out, “but how do you think your younger looks will affect your ability to work with clients and staff. Let’s face it; you don’t appear to be the sage grey haired professional which has garnered so much respect.”

“That’s a tough one,” I admit, “We’ll have to wait and see. I am the same old me inside with the same education and experience. I can still do the job.”

The questions continue for a while, taking up most of the lunch hour. People are able to relax a little when it started to become apparent that I’m still the same person inside. There are even some lighthearted jokes about the situation by the end of the session.

With their curiosity satisfied, most of the people leave to take advantage of what is left of their lunch hour while a few of my closer associates stay to chat for a while.

------< O >------

“Hello,” I answer my phone.

“Have you heard about what’s happening on Facebook?” our department administrative assistant asks.

It’s only been a couple of hours since the staff meeting, but apparently at least one of my coworkers has updated their Facebook status with their views on the meeting. According to our admin assistant, the post is going viral, especially since they posted a picture of me taken at the meeting. They also posted a “before” shot taken from an old family photo we had posted on my Facebook page.

Don’t you love social media! This going to be a long afternoon.

------< O >------

I was right about the long afternoon. Absolutely nothing of value got done in my office. Going to work today was a waste of the State’s money. The boss pointed out that that would have happened regardless of when I came in.

It was suggested that I make my own Facebook declaration about the events. Essentially posting the statement I made to the staff with answers to the questions asked. So, when I got home, Samantha and I sat down at the computer and drafted our own announcement and posted it on my Facebook account. She arranged for the other kids to share it from their accounts as well. I did not post a picture.

The posting got over 500 like/dislike hits in the first hour. There were tons of comments as well. The majority of the folks liked the post and the comments were generally supportive. A few of the comments had some really creative suggestions for cures. Others are asking for regular progress reports. Some wanted to get in on the deal and reverse their aging processes.

There were a few comments posted by some rather uninformed know-it-alls which chastised me for bringing this on to myself. A couple even suggested that I was being punished by God for unspecified sins. It always amazes me to what conclusions some people can come to with incomplete information—and how sure they are of their views.

I’m a popular guy--mostly.

Once these things get out on the net, they never go away. I’m tagged for life. At least the “true” story is out there. We didn’t mention the visions/visitations—only Samantha and I know about those. Hopefully the furor will die down soon.

------< O >------

Day two at work hasn’t been a lot better than day one. I even have news people calling me now. I put a message on my phone that I’m not taking calls or listening to voice mail. If they need to contact me they can come to my office or email me. I’ve had to delete hundreds of emails which are not work related.

When I get home, my private email account was very full and I spent over an hour deleting most of those as well. The Facebook hits have been out of this world. I’ve quit reading the comments.

I’m exhausted and going to bed.

------< O >-----

I don’t think that I’ve ever been so glad to see the end of a work week. It is Friday night and all I want to do is to crawl under a rock somewhere.

The furor is dying down some, but it has been pretty intrusive. I’ve refused offers for exclusive interviews and appearances from all major media networks and news outlets. I just refer them to my Facebook page for information. After posting a notice that I’m no longer checking Facebook, I’ve stayed away from the computer most of the week. I’ve been vainly hoping for some major natural or societal disaster to take the attention away from my predicament.

By Friday, I could at least get some of my real work done, but not at the level that I need to be because of the continuing interruptions. Hopefully next week will be better.

I had another doctor’s appointment today. I’m now weigh in at one hundred seventy pounds and am five feet seven inches tall. My features are also looking even younger. My temperature is still elevated a couple of degrees above the norm and the aches are still there. Over the counter pain relievers make the aches bearable and I’ve gotten used to the fever.

Samantha has decided to hang around for a while longer—at least until my changes even out. I’ve paid her a little for her help in cleaning out the house so she is feeling comfortable financially—that’s easy to do when you think making more than $5,000 in a year is over working. We’ve had some long talks about where she is going in life. In the past, she has resisted adding structure to her life, but her experience with her deceased mother has her thinking. She even mentioned the possibility of getting a job—a huge step for her.

To Be Continued...