"Do I have to do it?" I asked my wife Holly.

"Yes, Nana Sylvia has been very good to us. If it wasn't for her financial support we might be out on the street. She even throws in some extra so we can have the niceties of life."

"I know, but can't you do it? She's your grandmother. I understand why she wanted to be young again, but I'm a man."

"She doesn't want to be alone. It's not just she wants to be young, but spend some time with me too."

I complained, "This is all very weird."

"I know. But, all you have to do is swap places with her for two days. That doesn't sound like a lot for all she has given us."

"OK, I just. I wonder what other husbands who would spend two days in their body of their wife's grandmother."

"Stop complaining. This isn't the first time. It'll be the same as before. It'll be over before you know it."

I get into my side of the bed and make myself comfortable. Tomorrow when I wake up, I won't be the 25-year-old man I am. I'll be in the body of Silvia, my grandmother-in-law. I'll be a woman who is 88-years-old. I'll have all her ailments and live in a nursing home. If I hadn't lost my job, I wouldn't be in this problem. But that is a different story. One that wasn't entirely my fault. I finally fall asleep. Only two days and I'll be back to being myself.

The soft chime of my alarm clock gently wakes me. There is a half-remembered dream in my head, I'm in the arms of someone. I can't remember it all, I blink a few times, trying to clear the fog in my mind. When I'm Sylvia, I don't think as fast as I used to. Holly told me there wasn't anything wrong with Sylvia's mind. That it's just the disorientation of being in her body that is confusing me. But, I'm not so sure.

The room is bathed in soft morning light, and I feel the familiar ache in my joints. A moment later, the door opens, and Maria, my caregiver, walks in with her bright smile. Every time, I'm Sylvia, Maria enters my room with that same bright smile.

"Good morning, Sylvia! How are you feeling today?" Maria asks me.

I smile back, though it feels a bit stiff. "Morning, Maria. I think I slept well."

I dare not tell Maria that I'm not really Sylvia. That I'm her grandson-in-law spending two days in her body. If I told her, would she think me a hero (for helping her out) or pathetic (for allowing myself to be this way)?

Maria helps me sit up and puts my thick glasses on my nose. The world comes into clearer focus, though the memories sometimes feel just out of reach. Sometimes it feels as though I can remember parts of Sylvia's life. I don't know if they are true memories or what I would imagine her life would be. I've seen photographs of Sylvia when she was young...well younger. Maybe that is what I am recalling. The memory of me holding in my arms my future wife when she was a baby, seems so real and faded at the same time.

Maria adjusts my hearing aids, and the sounds of the world become more distinct. After helping me freshen up, she guides me to the bathroom. I stand holding the railing, while she bends down, reaches under my nightgown, and pulls down my pull-up. She holds up the hem of my gown and helps me to sit on the toilet.

I know I have to go, but it takes quite a while before I can do anything. Maria waits patiently as do I. There isn't anything either of us can do to hurry this along. We just have to wait. My mind wanders. I smile when I muse about what Maria would do if I started to touch myself. I might try it, if my fingers didn't already ache. To pass the time, Maria tells me of what she has been up to when she isn't at work.

Later, Maria helps me to brush my teeth and fit my dentures into place. Maria's gentle hands make everything easier.

Once I'm settled back in my chair, Maria moves to my wardrobe. "What would you like to wear today, Sylvia? It's a bit sunny outside, so maybe something light and comfortable."

I appreciate Maria giving me the choice. Choosing the feminine apparel I'm about to wear still feels a bit odd to me. Her suggestions always help. "That sounds good. Maybe the blue dress with the flowers?"

Maria nods approvingly. "Great choice! It's one of my favorites on you."

I smile. Somehow reaffirming my choice makes me feel good. She doesn't suspect that I'm not really Sylvia. But, I wonder if she says that to the real Sylvia.

She takes out the dress and lays it gently on the bed. Then she fetches a pair of soft, stretchy leggings to go underneath, knowing my arthritis makes me feel chilly sometimes. She also picks out a light cardigan in case I need an extra layer.

It's almost summer outside. My real body wouldn't wear this many layers of clothing. But in this body, any little breeze gives me a chill.

Maria helps me stand, steadying me with her arm. My joints protest, but her support gives me confidence. Slowly, we make our way to the bed, where I sit down. Maria helps me take off my nightgown, her movements careful and respectful.

"Let's start with the leggings," she says, guiding each of my legs through the fabric. She pulls them up gently, making sure they fit comfortably around my waist. I look down. My tummy is round and flat. There isn't a hint of manhood there. Or any other place on my body.

Next, she helps me into the dress. I lift my arms as much as I can, and Maria carefully slips the dress over my head, guiding my arms through the sleeves. The fabric feels soft against my skin. She smooths out the wrinkles and makes sure it sits right.

"How about these shoes?" Maria holds up a pair of comfortable, slip-on shoes. "They're easy to put on and will be good for walking."

"If the ambling I do could really be called walking." I think but don't say.

I nod in agreement. She helps me into the shoes, making sure they're secure with the Velcro straps but not too tight.

Maria then brings the light cardigan, helping me slip it on. "There, all set! You look lovely, Sylvia."

"This is the most lovely I have felt in weeks," I quip. Maria doesn't know that the last time I was in Sylvia's body was weeks ago.

I look at myself in the mirror, and despite the aches and the foggy memories, I feel a sense of satisfaction. "Thank you, Maria. You always know just what to do and say."

Maria smiles warmly. "It's my pleasure, Sylvia. Ready for breakfast?"

With Maria's help, I stand and she assists me into my wheelchair. As she wheels me towards the dining room, I feel grateful for her care and the comfort of a familiar routine. The day is off to a good start, thanks to Maria's kindness and patience.

The aroma of oatmeal and honey makes my mouth water. I enjoy the warmth of the tea in my hands, feeling the steam rise up and warm my face. I take my first bite. Soft foods are all my dentures can handle. As far as the taste goes, I don't know if the food is really too bland or if my taste buds like the rest of my body has softened.