Meira Selamer :||: D4 :||: FIN

Please complete the information to the best of your knowledge:
NAME :: MEIRA NATALIE SELAMER
AGE :: 18
BIRTHDATE :: 27 AUGUST
SEX :: FEMALE
DISTRICT :: FOUR
HEIGHT :: 5’2”
WEIGHT :: 110 lbs
FATHER :: KORY GREGOR SELAMER
MOTHER :: LOMAÍ TIRA NILAMEN
EMPLOYER :: NICHOLAS FORAE – fish vendor

PHYSICIAN’S NOTES :: (note: this has been transcribed for official records; shorthand version stored in patient’s file)
Meira has been maintaining a healthy weight ever since she grew to her full height. She has been following the recommended diet, and I believe that her immune system will not become compromised as long as she continues to follow the diet. Her broken arm from the accident has been completely healed, though I have recommended that she waits a few more weeks before she resumes working. I had also recommended that she do some leg exercises so as to keep the muscles in her legs working, but she has told me that she does not follow the regiment as closely as I would like her to.

Her eyes are healthy and working quite well. She seems to be relying on them more to communicate, which I see as a very good thing. The irises have strangely lightened since I last saw her, but I can detect no sign of disease. She has told me of no complaints as of yet. In a monthly check-up, as per the policy of her workplace, I have examined the scars on her body to determine that they are healing properly and do not conceal an infection. She has so far only had 2 reported cases of an infection: one in her arm and the other in her side. Both infections were treated immediately after they were discovered, and they do not seem to be impeding on any of her duties.

Her joints seem to be moving smoothly, save for the arm, and while she has strained and pulled a number of muscles, she has recovered from them quickly. A quick examination of her skin otherwise shows no sign of abnormal growth or discoloration—this will be more closely looked at when she comes in for her annual exam.

She tells me that she is well in the mind, although she can understandably be frustrated with communication. It has been several years since her mother’s death, and she seems to have recuperated just fine, although she does admit to the fear that she will succumb to the same illness. As her physician, I cannot guarantee that she will not be affected with the same affliction, but I have provided her with a proposed regimen that should keep her healthy. I had also proposed further testing, but she has refused and has a tendency to not want to work with other physicians. This is understandable as there are few physicians who truly understand her condition. I do wish she would attend more sessions with me so I can understand what she is going through on a more frequent basis. I have recommended this to her, but she has not changed our meeting times.

27 Aug

Dear diary,

Today I am 6. Mama and Papa tell me that this is a book where I can write about me. The book is really pretty and brown and blue. I like the color blue. It is the color of the water by my home. Pillar is my doggie. He was here before I was here. Mama and Papa love each other very much and they love me too. They don’t remember my birthday though, so they say it is today. Mama made some fish thing that I really really really like. It is very yummy.

16 Oct

Dear diary,

Mama says she’s sick, but she doesn’t look sick to me. Mama always had lighter skin, like the color of the faded wood planks that is set in our home. Mama likes to say that I had inherited her skin but my skin looks more like Papa because I am always in the sun. I don’t really get what she’s saying, but I like the color of her skin. When I see it, it looks nice and warm to me, just like Mama!

Classes are getting harder now. They tell us something about throwing and stuff, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. Mama and Papa always said I had problems with listening, but they were never mean about it. Are all kids like that? No one will talk to me in class because they think I’m weird. They always look at me weirdly when I talk, but I don’t know why. Is everyone this mean? Mama and Papa aren’t mean to me, though. I love them.

28 Apr

Dear diary,

Mama is always in bed now. Papa tells me that Mama needs her rest, but she looks okay to me. She still tickles me whenever I get into bed with her and she is never without a smile. Papa says she is really sick, but it is okay for me to play with her. I wish Mama wasn’t sick… I like having her walk around the house with me. Mama would always make me that fish dish if I was feeling sad, but Papa says she can’t do that anymore.

School is becoming more difficult as I try to understand what the teacher is saying. Now they know not to call on me, which I guess is good because I don’t know the answer anyway. When I read the book, though, everything makes sense and I do well on the tests. But the teachers probably think I’m stupid since I don’t talk in class.

Sometimes, I don’t know if it’s because I can’t hear them or their voice is getting smaller, but I can barely hear my classmates as well. It’s hard to make friends when you have to use your hands, but I do have a few, I think. At least they sit near me in class and during meals, but they never invite me to play at their houses or in the play area. They must think I’m weird too, but I don’t know why they think that. They are quiet too and they don’t speak much in class. Maybe it’s just the color of my skin—their skin looks much lighter than mine, even lighter than Mama’s.

09 Sept

Dear diary,

Papa has pulled me out of school. He says it’s for my own good, but now I’m bored at home and I really have no one to talk to. Mama’s sickness shows now as she sleeps most of the day. I want to run in and play with her, but Papa tells me that I should be studying, not playing around. I wish Mama would get better. I don’t like seeing her so sick.

21 Dec

Today, Mama died.

14 Nov

Dear diary,

It’s been a while since I wrote in this little book—it was hiding on my desk for a long time. I just didn’t have the heart to keep writing after Mama passed away, but my doctor tells me I should be writing about my life. Ever since Mama died, Papa has made me see this doctor who will look at me once a year. I have been with this doctor for 6 years, and I guess you could say that I like him now. For some reason, we are able to understand each other and that helps me feel comfortable around him.

I will admit that Mama’s death had hit Papa and I hard. Even though Mama was sick for a long time and had to remain in bed for most of her illness, there is still an empty feeling in the house and Papa still leaves her space on the bed which I think is a bit sad. It’s only a reminder that she’s really gone and never coming back. We’ve been able to move along, though, as Papa has spent the past few years teaching me instead of sending me to school. At first, I was mad at Mama and Papa for pulling me out of school, but now I understand why they did it and I think I am actually learning way more this way. Papa would never admit it, but he is good at what he does and that helped me find a job.

I now work at a local fish vendor, but the owner doesn’t have me selling the fish—he must know how terrible I am with people—but he has me catching it. It’s really a high honor that he would let me do the fishing and I have Papa to thank for that. My doctor also seems pleased with the fact that I am working and he tells me that it will be a good way to keep my body healthy. He seems pretty adamant about me staying healthy, which I guess has to do with Mama, but sometimes it’s a little overbearing and I do slack off. I always feel guilty when I do that, though, and I tell him that I haven’t been doing the additional exercises he tells me to do. He’s pretty understanding about it, and that is why I don’t mind telling him things. Now that I have to see him much more—some policy my employer mandated—we have grown much closer.

He tells me to see some specialist or to get testing, but I don’t trust the other people. No one but him and Papa seem to understand me, and it’s frustrating when they look at me with pity.

20 Feb

Dear diary,

I have finally made some friends from work, and I have to say, they know how to have a good time. At first, I disapproved of their habits, but one day they invited me and I said okay. I was just happy that they were including me for something, so I went with them. It was actually a lot more fun than I thought, and it was such a good time that I kept going back. I haven’t told my doctor about this, but it’s not like I go as crazy as they do—well, that might be a lie. But it hasn’t been affecting my work and I want to so badly be included in something that it’s worth keeping it our little secret. Maybe one day I’ll grow up and realize I don’t need this life, but after so many years of not having friends, I want to enjoy life—just in case I leave this world like Mama did.