I remained skeptical about the idea of Kegel exercises they were having me do. If it was this easy to finally get control of my bladder, why had no one ever told me to do them before? They also had me on a couple medications. The names were hard to pronounce, but one of them was apparently supposed to make my eliminations smell less.

My incontinence problems only extend to my bladder, not that I hadn’t had well more than my fair share of messy diapers. But those were almost always a result of circumstances beyond my control, like not being able to – or not being allowed to – get to a toilet in time.

I’d switched to wearing pull-ups the last couple of days with some success. I had at least managed to make it to the toilet on a couple of occasions. The nurse said it was a sign of the medications and exercises working, but to me, it felt like being in an environment where I had the freedom to go to the toilet whenever I needed to and wasn’t judged or shamed for having any accidents made a huge difference.

“Annabelle, you’ve got visitors,” the nurse said after peeking into my room.

The only visitors I had received were either my attorney or my therapist. This time around it was both of them at once.

“Good news Annabelle,” the attorney said. “The judge gave you the all clear this morning. We’re going to get you checked out of the hospital.”

“But where I am going to go when I leave?”

“You have an aunt and uncle on your mom’s side that you’re going to go and live with. They said you might recall meeting them once before,” the attorney said. “Normally, we wouldn’t release someone to family that you have barely been around, but, since they have extensive experience with foster children, we felt this would be appropriate.”

Uncle James and Aunt Lydia. I did remember them. They had been the lone bright spot on what had otherwise been one of the worst days of my life.

“I’m going to leave with them today?”

“Annabelle, you do get to have a say in things now. If you told me that you were absolutely opposed to going with them, we would try and work something else out.”

“They… they really do want to have me come live with them?”

“They really do. They’re at the first floor waiting room right now.”

I’d had many difficult choices to make recently. This wasn’t one of them.

“Yes, I want to go with them.”

“Are you fine if I go and get them now?” the attorney said.

I nodded, and he turned and left the room.