This is the continued story of Simon’s Journal.
I would highly recommend you read the first volume of this story, Thirteen Days before you begin this novel.

The following narrative is nearly a complete work of fiction.
Any similarity to actual individuals living or dead is completely unintentional.
If reading a coming of age story about boys wearing diapers and exploring their awakening sexuality is offensive or illegal in your area, then might I suggest you go read War and Peace or something equally stimulating.

Simon's Journal

Volume II

Thirteen Nights – After the Crusade

Written by

Danny
Author of Thirteen Days

Chapter - 2

PART 2 – Knighthood and the dawning of the armor!

Dad started the car and the clock on the car radio came on telling us that it was after 10 in the morning. “Well that’s one good thing; we still have about forty-five minutes until your doctor’s appointment.” Dad had said.

“I didn’t know I had to go to the doctor today!” I said with a hint of fear in my voice.

“It’s okay! It’s just a checkup to see how you are healing.” Dad reassured me by petting my hair.

“They better not give me any more shots!” I threatened.

I expected Dad to say that they wouldn’t, but he only smiled, put the car in gear, and backed out of the parking space.

When we headed in the opposite direction of the hospital, I got confused; “Aren’t we going to the hospital?” I asked.

“Oh, your appointment is with your regular doctor!” Dad said.

“Oh no!” I groaned.

“What?” Dad asked.

“He always gives me shots or makes me take nasty medicine!” I complained.

“You know, I think there is some kind of law that says that medicine has to hurt, taste really bad, or smell even worse.” Dad joked.

“It’s not funny!” I continued to complain. “I think he does it on purpose!”

In a bad impression of an old guy, Dad said; “That’s okay! It builds character!”

So I decided to play along with him by saying; “But I got all the character I need!”

“You know in my day, medicine always tasted like FEET!” Dad continued his old man skit.

I laughed, “Feet?”

“Yes, feet! And we were thankful to have it! That’s the problem with you young w-w-whippersnappers! You want everything to taste like candy. Well, feet can be good for you too!” Dad licked his lips as if salivating over a nice juicy burger. “Mmmm, I could go for a nice foot right about now!”

I sat in the passenger seat trying not to laugh, but only causing myself to giggle all that much more. “You know something Dad?”

“Huh? What? Who said that?” he said, still playing.

Talking really loud, as if I were talking to a nearly deaf man, I shouted, “I SAID YOU OLD PEOPLE SMELL LIKE MOLDY CHEESE!”

That did the trick; Dad started laughing so hard he was thumping the steering wheel with his hand to try to regain his composure.

“You’re insane!” I said to him, while trying not to look at him.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, there were only two cars there. “Looks like we got here before the rush!” Dad said, but there was something about the way he said it, that made me think there was something else he wasn’t telling me.

Reaching down to unbuckle myself, I again became aware of the condition of my diaper. “Um, Dad?”

“Yes you have to go in!” he said, before I could say anything else.

“No, not that! That’s not what I was going to say.” I said.

He looked at me as asked with a half grin and one cocked eyebrow, “What, then?”

Trying to impersonate him doing the impersonation of the old man I said, “I think someone left a present in my pants for you!”

He gave the back of my head a playful whack with his hand; “I’ll give you a present!” he said. Without missing a beat, I countered with; “CAN I HAVE A PONY?”

Dad only shook his head, as if disgusted with me, and I laughed knowing I bested him . . . this one time at least! He climbed out of the car and just as I was closing my door, he came from around the backside of the car where he was shutting the trunk. I saw that he had the brown paper grocery sack in his hand and started to ask, “Out here?” but I quickly thought about it before I said it and almost caused myself to laugh again. “Of course not out here Simon, you ditz!” I thought to myself.

We walked in the front door of the doctor’s office and sure enough the waiting room was empty. Dad went up to the nurse at the front desk and spoke with her before turning to me and saying; “Go with her!” as he handed her the bag.

I knew my emotions were right there on my face, but I still had to say it, “But Dad?” as my eyes bounced between him, the nurse, and the sack. I knew he meant for her to take me back and change my wet diaper. Even though I had Nurse Gabby and Nurse Bridget change my diapers in the hospital, I had absolutely no desire to have this strange lady, even if she was a nurse, see me naked, let alone in a diaper!

Dad smiled and said, “It’s OK! She’s a nurse and she’s probably seen more . . .” he stumbled for an appropriate word, “boys than you could count.”

Just having him say those few words caused me to blush so red that I thought my face would explode.

Reaching out a hand to me she said, “Come on Simon! I promise I won’t bite, unless you want me to!”

Reluctantly, I took her hand and she led me back to one of the examination rooms. I glanced back to Dad once more as we left the waiting room for reassurance, but he wasn’t looking my way anymore. He was standing, looking out the large front wall of glass.

“Can you hop up here by yourself?” she asked, patting the examination table with her hand.

Without speaking and feeling about as bashful as a little lost lamb, I gently nodded my head but didn’t move. Again she took my hand, pulled me two steps forward, and helped me up onto the table. “There we go!” she said, as I sat my wet and squishing bottom down on what I was sure was a very cold table. With no further directing from her, I leaned myself over onto my elbow and lowered myself down until I was lying on my back. I’d got good at doing this without hurting my ribs, and as soon as I was settled she reached out and started removing my pants. While she worked to get my belt unbuckled, and my pants unsnapped, I stared at the ceiling and counted the ceiling tiles over and over again.

Twelve full tiles and three partial tiles. Four down, three and a part of one across. Over and over I counted, and figured the patterns in my head.

When I felt her tugging at my pants I started to lift my backside instinctively, but she placed a hand on my belly to keep me from moving. “Did she think I was going to try to run off or something?” I thought.

Now she didn’t look to be a very strong woman, but when she reached down with one hand and took hold of not just one ankle but both of them and lifted them into the air until my backside was completely off the table, I nearly swallowed my tongue in amazement! With her one free hand she pulled my pants down to my knees, and then lowered my legs again, before working my pants on down to my ankles. As she lifted the front of my shirt to get at my diaper she said; “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had sore ribs, did I hurt you at all?”

I couldn’t have talked if I wanted too, so I just shook my head no and let her get on with the task at hand.

“OK then, but if you feel any discomfort, you let me know ,OK?” she said, and I nodded this time.

As she pulled at each tape, it was like someone was holding a microphone next to my diaper, amplifying the sound of the tapes. RIP – RIP – RIP – RIP! Just then, the one thing I’d feared started to happen, and no matter how hard I tried to think of unpleasant things, it just didn’t help. I felt the stirring in my boyhood region like never before, and when she pulled my diaper open and the cool air hit my very moist skin, little Simon popped out and stood there as if to say, “GOOD MORNING! IS EVERYONE UP?”

I could feel my face sizzling with the heat of my embarrassment. I closed my eyes as tight as I could, hoping that by doing so, she might vanish, but she didn’t. I felt her take hold of my ankles again and lift my bottom into the air, and snatch the wet diaper out from under me. However, this time she kept me dangling there, and I could feel little Simon poking at my stomach as if saying, “Hey! You there! Boy! Why are you ignoring me? Come on lets get a GRIP here, what do you say?” I actually heard a voice inside my head shout down at him, “Will you please just shut up and go back to sleep?”

Of course, that just started an argument, “Well, how dare you tell me to shut up! Do you know who you’re fooling with? Oh wait! That’s the problem, YOUR NOT FOOLING WITH ME AT ALL! PLEASE, PLEASE PLAY WITH!” little Simon screamed.

“Oh for the love of . . . can’t you just wait?” the voice in my head cried down to little Simon.

“Do I look like I can wait? You know if you weren’t going to play with me then you should have let her wake me up!” little Simon seethed.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it! And anyway, if you’d stop peeing when I’m not ready maybe I could get to a toilet and we’d not need someone to change me and end up seeing you!” the voice in my head barked.

“Oh, oh I see! This is all my fault! Oh, okay well then maybe I should just take care of things myself? Hummm?” Little Simon said.

“Oh no you don’t!” The voice shouted back.

“Hey! What’s going on? Who turned off the lights? Wait, stop I’m not finished yet!” Little Simon tried to scream out, and suddenly I realized that the nurse was tapping the last tape on a fresh diaper into place.

“There we go. How’s that?” she asked.

“Better, thanks!” I heard my own voice answer.

From inside the diaper I heard, “Let me out of here at once!”

“Here let me help you back up,” the nurse said as she helped me to sit up, and then to stand next to the examination table. She reached down and pulled my pants up. I didn’t bother to tuck my shirt in ‘cause I knew the doctor was just going to make me take it off when he came in. No sooner had I thought it, there was a knock at the door, and in came the doctor.

“Well, hello Simon! Oh my, that eye sure has healed up nicely!” said the doctor.

“Good morning sir!” I answered back, trying to get my belt buckled quickly.

“Oh, you might as well wait on that, I’m going to need to check you out anyway.” He said.

“Let’s get you back up on the table.” The nurse said, helping me a little.

He came over as she stepped back, “Let’s take a look at them ribs, huh?” he said, and then started removing my shirt.

“Wow, that’s a lot of tape!” he exclaimed.

“I kept coming unbound, so both Mom and Dad both kept adding more tape to keep me from unraveling.” I said, and the doctor chuckled.

“What say we take this all off so that we can get a good look at ya?” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he was asking me if it was okay with me or not.

“Is it going to hurt?” I asked, knowing that my fear was very apparent as my voice broke and cracked.

The doctor, sensing my reluctance took half a step back, put a finger under my chin and said; “I imagine you have just about had your fill of pain recently, huh?”

Nodding my head I said, “Yes sir!”

Still smiling he added, “I’ll tell you what, after we get this tape off of you today, then I promise that I won’t hurt you anymore, okay?”

I didn’t answer him. I might only be 12-years-old, but I’m not stupid! I know in his backwards way, he’d just told me that it was going to hurt. Probably a lot too!

“You want your Dad to come in and be with you while we get you fixed up?” he asked. I only nodded that I did.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” He said toward the nurse who promptly left the room only to return a minute later with Dad in tow.

Upon seeing Dad come in, and without realizing I was saying it, I said, “Dad! He wants to take off the tape!” Even though I’d not wanted too, tears began to well up in my eyes.

The doctor, who had been reading over something from my medical folder, looked up at the nurse and asked for something that I didn’t understand. She slipped back out again as Dad came over and held my hand for me.

“You going to be brave for me?” Dad asked.

I shook my head no, which made Dad chuckle.

“Least he’s honest!” the doctor said with a smile and a shrug.

“Simon, would you like to know how I’m going to do it, or do you just want me to do it and get it over with?” The doctor asked, but I now had been given plenty of time to get good and scared; so scared that talking was impossible.

I looked up at Dad longingly and he answered for me. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re going to do, that way there’s no surprises.”

“I think that’s probably best, too,” The doctor said, then went on to explain, “Probably the first bit will be the worst. I’ll start right about here.” He reached around behind me and touched the spot between my shoulder blades. “Just about where your angel wings would be attached, had you not lost them when you were two.” He tried to lighten my mood and Dad added. “Yeah, and became a little devil!” They both chuckled. I didn’t.

Realizing I was really wound up, the doctor pulled down on the knot of his tie, with the flip of two fingers, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and said; “See all that white hair on my chest?”

His action took me off guard. Probably exactly the reaction he’d hoped for, I’d imagine.

“Yeah.” I answered softly.

He then picked up my left hand and set it on my chest just above the tape, “Feel that?”

I nodded but didn’t have the slightest idea where he was going with this.

“If you had hair like me? Then it would really hurt to have that tape,” he tapped my chest, “taken off. But since you don’t have a layer of heavy fur, it shouldn’t hurt much at all.”

Okay, I admit, it was a really good try on his part to alleviate some of my fears, but I’d had too many scrapped knees, elbows, chins and various other parts of my extremities covered with a Band-Aid. I remembered all to well just how much it hurt to have the Band-Aid removed.

“Can’t I just go home and soak in the bathtub till it comes off?” I whimpered.

“That might have worked had you only a single layer,” he glanced at Dad, “but with all this tape, you’d surely shrivel up like a raisin before the tape would come off.”

I snickered. I actually snickered at a thought that flashed in my head for only a millisecond. Dad squeezed my hand, “What?”

I snickered again before looking the doctor in the eye and softly saying, “I happen to like raisins, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Dad jovially thumped the back of my head again as he and the doctor laughed. A couple seconds later the nurse came in with her arms full of stuff and sat it all down on the little metal tray. I recognized the bottle of rubbing alcohol, medical scissors, and those medical things that look like a cross between skinny pliers and scissors.

“Are you able to lie on your tummy at all?” the doctor asked.

I shook my head wildly from side to side.

“Okay then, how about spinning around so that I can start on your back then?” he asked, and I complied with a little help from Dad. Since my pants were not fastened, as I spun on the table, I nearly came back out of them again. No one seemed to care too much, and since I was well past scared and approaching horrified, I didn’t much care either.

“I’m going to start by trying to pour a little of this alcohol down inside the tape. It’s probably going to feel cold, but it won’t hurt at all.” the doctor said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the nurse pick up something silver.

“What’s that?” I nearly screamed, and tried to turn to get away, but in my fearful haste all I managed to do was cause myself quite a bit of pain.

Dad moved around so that he was standing directly in front of me and was kind of squished between the exam table and the wall behind him. He pulled my head forward to rest it on his chest and held it there with one hand, while his other held my left bicep very tightly.

“You are going to be okay Son! I got ya!” Dad spoke softly and yet with confidence that seemed to flow through his chest and into my forehead.

The nurse held the silver object out so that I could see it, and I saw that it was them pliers-scissor things I’d seen earlier. “These are just so that we can clamp them on the tape to get a better grip.” She said soft and pleasant.

“Okay, here comes the alcohol.” The doctor said and he was right, it was cold and I could feel it trickling all the way down my spine and into the back of my diaper. It found its way down my butt rack and tickled more than a little.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed.

“Sorry!” the doctor said.

“I’m going to cut the tape down along your spine, if it hurts at all you tell me and I will stop. Okay?”

“Okay!” I moaned, as I pressed my face harder into Dad’s chest.

I felt him begin cutting, but aside from just a tiny bit of pulling it didn’t hurt at all. Yet!

“You doing okay, Simon?” the nurse asked.

“Yeah!” I grunted, fully expecting the pain to start at any second.

“Almost all the way down a—n—d that is it!” he said, dragging out the ‘and’ as he made the last cut.

“I think we might get lucky, Simon!” the doctor said.

“Huh?” I grunted again.

“It looks like most of the inner layer is already loose from your skin back here.” He said as I felt him pull.

“Oh yeah, I’ve nearly got your back completely open.” He was saying, just as a section of the tape, just over my right buttocks gave me a twinge.

“Ooowww!” I screeched and grabbed hold of the sides of Dad’s shirt for something to squeeze.

“Sorry, that was some of the newer tape. It was still holding well.” The doctor said and then asked, “I need you to raise your right arm for me.”

Dad took my arm and laid my hand on his shoulder, “You can hold on here.” He said, allowing me to grasp his shirt just beside collar.

“This is stuck pretty well; I think I’ll need to try rubbing him down with alcohol on some gauze as I pull.” I heard the doctor say, but I think he was talking to the nurse and not me. I couldn’t tell for sure because I again had my face buried in Dad’s chest, waiting for the worst.

“Okay, here comes the cold alcohol again!” the doctor said.

It wasn’t so bad this time, since I knew what to expect Actually, him rubbing my side with the gauze the way he did tickled me more than anything else.

“That tickle?” he chuckled.

“Lit-TLE!” I started to say, just as it really tickled.

“Sorry! But tickling is better than pain, right?” he asked.

I shook my head in disagreement.

“Don’t like the tickling either, huh? Well you’re a hard one to please.” He continued his attempts at humoring me.

“Okay, I’m going to try to pull a little, you tell me if it hurts!” I felt him apply gentle pressure, which hurt, but not too much.

“That hurt?” he asked.

I shook my head from side to side a little.

“Just let me know…” he started to say, but I suddenly jumped.

“THAT HURT!” I said, trying to pull away from Dad, but he just held me even tighter.

“I’m sorry, Simon. The sides seem to be holding a lot better than the back did.

“Don’t do no more!” I begged, only just realizing for myself that I was crying into Dad’s shirt.

Ignoring my pleading, the doctor said, “Just a little more, I just about have all this side off.”

Dad moved his hand that he’d been using to hold my head so that he was now covering my right ear. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I did know he said something and suddenly the doctor just started pulling on the tape. I was screaming and clawing at Dad to try to get away, but he had such a firm grip on me that all I could do was scream and wiggle a little.

“AAAAAHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOO!!!! Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad!” I screamed and cried.

Talking over my crying, the doctor said, “All done now Simon! I’ll let you rest a bit before we try the other side.”

Dad loosened his grip on me, but only enough to allow me to relax. Not enough to let me attempt any escape.

“Dad, no more! Don’t let him!” I sobbed into his shirt.

“Sshhh!” he hushed my crying, “I know it hurts, I know! But in a little while, you will be all done.”

“No, please!” I cried and rubbed my eyes with his shirt.

“Can you call Doctor Zuligram and see if he can come down and fit Simon here for an upper torso plate guard?” I heard the doctor telling the nurse, but only about half, so I didn’t fully understand it until later.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Dad and me.

Dad continued to hush and calm me back down, until he was able to release me from his firm embrace. “You doing alright there, sport?” he asked, while wiping my face.

“I don’t want to do anymore!” I sniffled.

“I know you don’t, but you have to.” He said softly.

I shook my head only a little, and spoke very softly, “No” but he didn’t bother to reply.

We didn’t talk anymore for the rest of the time alone. After about ten minutes, though I really wasn’t aware of the passage of time, the doctor came back in without the nurse.

“Ready to finish up?” he asked, clapping his hands together. For a second, I started to think that maybe he was going to try to do it alone, but then the nurse came in behind him.

I shook my head no, but at the same time Dad said, “Yes, I think we are.” I looked up at him with contempt, but he just smiled.

I cannot put into words how relieved I was that the tape came off my left side with almost no pain at all. Now getting it off my front proved to be both easy and painful. Over my chest the tape wasn’t hardly attached to me anymore, but on my belly it sure was. At least I was able to lay down for that part, and the doctor gave me a bubblegum flavored thing to bite down on for that part which actually helped to a small extent.

I was so relieved when the last of the tape came off and the doctor said he wasn’t going to replace it. I don’t think I could go through that again. He removed the bubblegum flavored bite block before giving me a nearly full checkup. He looked down my throat and in my ears and nose. Tapped on my knees with a little rubber hammer and everything thing else I’d expected him to do. I was, however, very relieved when he didn’t ask to get into my diaper that his nurse had put on me when I’d arrived. He said he liked the way I was healing up and that he might let me go back to school next week, but I’d have to come see him again on Friday to get checked out yet again. If he still likes what he sees, he’ll give me a note saying I was allowed to go back to school. He also said that I’m not allowed to do any sports or anything whatsoever that could potentially re-injure my ribs. He didn’t go into details, so I guess that left room for interpretation.

Now for some reason, when he said that I could go back to school, instead of getting excited about the idea, as I thought I should have, I suddenly got worried! I mean not cause of my ribs, but because of . . . well what if I need to go number two at school? How am I supposed to wipe when I can’t even reach my own backside?

I continued thinking those things over as the doctor was talking with Dad about something that sounded technical. I’d not been paying much attention, so when this little short black man with salt and pepper hair and funny little goatee walked in, I was both surprise and embarrassed.

“Oh, there you are!” my doctor said shaking this new doctor’s hand. “This here is Mr. Simon Leonard and his son, Little Simon Leonard Junior.

“I am so very pleased to meet you!” The short black man extended his hand to Dad, “I am Doctor David Zuligram.” He took my hand after releasing dads, and shook it vigorously. I became aware of the fact that I was sitting there with no clothes on except the diaper, since my doctor had gone ahead and removed my pants to examine me. I remember thinking, as I sat there, embarrassed to have this strange man seeing me like this, that I would have rather he’d seen me nude, than wearing nothing but a diaper. But Doctor Zuligram didn’t even seem to notice the fact that a 12-year-old boy was laying there wearing a diaper.

“Would you mind if I examined your son?” he asked Dad, and I couldn’t figure what his accent was, but it was obvious that English wasn’t his first language. His voice was kind of high, I mean higher than you’d expect for a grown man, and when he talked, his goatee would twitch and dance on his chin almost hypnotically.

My doctor spoke up and directed his comments more to Dad and less to me, “I would like to have Doctor Zuligram here fit Simon for an Upper-Torso Plate Guard; one that will fully support and protect his ribs while they continue to heal.”

Dad had motioned for Doctor Zuligram to examine me, which he had started to do while my doctor was explaining the Chest Plate to Dad. One thing I liked about Doctor Zuligram, is that before he touched me, he rubbed his hands together vigorously for several seconds to warm them, and his touch was so gentle and soft, that it didn’t hurt; not even a tiny bit.

“Can you lift your arms up for me?” he asked me, and Dad reached each of my arms and lifted them to about my shoulder height for me.

“Does it hurt you when you lift your arms up on your own?” he asked.

“Sometimes, if I raise them too high.” I answered.

“Yes, I imagined so.” Doctor Zuligram said, as he checked each side of my ribs before turning to my doctor.

“I believe he’d do very well with a plate, but I believe it should,” and as he explained he turned back to me and pointed out, “have one that encases this region,” his fingers brushed my left side, just behind my elbow, and it tickled so much that I jumped a little.

“Oh my! I am so very sorry! Did I hurt you?” Doctor Zuligram asked.

“No that tickled!” I said with a smile.

“Oh! I am so very sorry.” He apologized with his own smile. He continued to explain; “I also think that young Simon here would do well with a second Plate that would cover this region.” He ran his fingers around my back as if drawing an image for Dad and my doctor to see.

I really liked Doctor Zuligram. He took the time to explain everything about the plate; how he’d make it, and how it would fit on me. He said, “You should be able to do all the things you normally would do, within reason, and it will keep you from bending in such a way as to separate one of your ribs while it is trying to heal.

“How long will it take to make?” I asked.

“Oh not long, about twenty minutes.” Doctor Zuligram answered.

Right then, the nurse came back into the room, which surprised me because I’d not even realized she’d left the room. Also, when she opened the door, I could hear someone crying softly from elsewhere in the office. She didn’t get to come in very far; with three adults and I previously in the room it was already full. She only took a single step in and began talking to my doctor, who then excused himself and left just Dad and me with Doctor Zuligram. The nurse had said something about a Fractured Clav-something. I didn’t know what that was, but after the nurse and my doctor left, I asked Doctor Zuligram what it was and he explained that ‘Clavicle’ was the medical term for the collarbone, and he showed me where both of mine were.

“I bet that hurts!” Dad said, and Doctor Zuligram smiled and said, “Sounded like it, did it not?

Right at that second, I figured out who Doctor Zuligram sounded like, and why his accent sounded both odd and familiar. He sounded exactly like the lobster-like alien, Doctor Zoidberg on the cartoon Futurama.

“Hey! You sound just like that Doctor Alien on Futurama!” I said.

“What? You mean the great Doctor Zoidberg?” Doctor Zuligram said, raising a single finger triumphantly into the air.

“You watch that, too?” I asked, quite surprised that he knew who I meant.

“Just between you and me? I think he’s a better doctor than I am!” he said, and I laughed until it hit me what he just said.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, and both he and Dad laughed.

“What say we get you fitted, so I can go have my lunch?” he asked. Now that I had made the connection in my head between him and the alien, every word he said just made me want to laugh.

Doctor Zuligram left Dad and I alone for only few minutes before another nurse came in, She asked a couple of questions about stuff I might be allergic to, and after Dad answered, she left again, only to return about five minutes later with Doctor Zuligram who was carrying a fair-sized, green and white box.

Doctor Zuligram looked at me, smiled, and said to the nurse, “Okay nurse, I’ll need a chain saw and a Band-Aid.”

Dad chuckled, but I laughed nervously. Not about the chain saw, but because I didn’t know what was in the box.

“W-what’s in the b-box?” I asked.

“What this? It’s my lunch!” Doctor Zuligram said, clutching the box protectively. “No, actually this is going to be your new . . .” he used a word that I neither understood nor can remember now. He must have realized that I didn’t understand, because he then said, “Body armor?” as if he were asking me if I understood that.

I nodded that I did understood ‘body armor,’ and he started to pull out a flesh colored piece of plastic, and then another that was smaller and shaped quite different. He held the larger part up under my chin and explained that he’d warm it up, and then form it to fit me perfectly. And he did just as he described, and after only a few minutes, he was done. It fit like a second skin, like ‘body armor’ almost. The front piece went under my arms to totally encase my ribs, and went up over my shoulders. It was then attached with Velcro straps to the back piece, which enveloped my back as well.

Dad rapped on the front over my chest with his knuckle, “It’s kind of like a plastic version of what knights used to wear.”

I ran my fingers over it, “Yeah, it does!” and I gave it a thump. “I didn’t hardly feel that!” I announced.

“You look good enough to eat!” Doctor Zuligram joked, and sounded even more like Doctor Zoidberg.

“Did anybody else ever think you sound like that alien?” I asked feeling very pleased with my new body armor.

He smiled with a glance up to the nurse, “Maybe one or two I think?”

“I’m not saying anything!” the nurse threw her hands up in defense and gave me a wink.

After Doctor Zuligram explained to Dad and me how to care for, and live with, my new protective plate, he again shook our hands and left us. The nurse then helped me to get dressed, and I found getting off the table was a little difficult.

“I’m going to have to learn how to move around with this on.” I told them both.

“In a day or two you will forget you even have it on.” The nurse said, pulling my pants up over my diaper and fastening them for me.

My doctor came back in as she was helping me pull my shirt back on.

“Oh yes, that looks very nice indeed!” He too gave my chest a thump with his knuckle!

“I think you will find that you will be a lot more comfortable wearing this instead of that tape! You can take it off to bathe, but I’d like you to wear it all the rest of the time, even when you sleep.” He instructed.

It took about another ten minutes or so before we were done and ready to leave. The first nurse had returned with a handful of things for Dad, along with written instructions.

“See you on Friday?” I asked, seeing my doctor at the end of the hall.

“Yes! On Friday! Now go get some ice cream! Doctors orders!” he announced back, and I looked up at Dad.

“You heard him! I got to go have ICE CREAM!!!” I nearly shouted.

Dad laughed, and we both walked out of the doctors office and headed for our car.

Next Installment:

Chapter 2 - PART 3 – Runt, Tobor, Pen and Paper

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