Day 1
I am in so much trouble I don't know what to do. Somehow I've been shrunk to the size of a child and once I've finished physical therapy at this hospital I'm going to be adopted by a nice couple. Karres, the physician responsible for my current predicament, assures me that they can't wait to see me and that I'll feel more like myself soon. I don't feel like myself at all. Not even my handwriting looks the same. I asked for writing materials so I could keep a journal—I had to get my feelings out in some way that did not involve a tantrum (I'm not a kid, and I refuse to behave like one), so I turned to good old paper—but writing is a lot more difficult than it should be. According to Karres and the nurses the medical procedure that put me in my current state is the cause of some considerable difficulty I'm having in using my muscles. Fine motor control and coordination is almost nonexistent. The only way I'm able to write is to print everything very slowly, and even then the result is not neat, but it is readable. Right now we've finished lunch and the nurses have brought out toys and books in an effort to make us use our hands and arms. I wanted to write.
I can't believe this situation. The people here can't have children, but they can shrink adults to the size of children? Why can't they fix the problem they're having with their fertility if they're so advanced medically? Why put people through this hell of becoming kids again?
Apparently, I'm the only one who's not enjoying this opportunity. Karres and the nurses won't understand that I only want to go home. They think that I'll come around to their way of thinking. Not going to happen, EVER. When Karres comes again this afternoon I'll try to explain my feelings on this matter. I'll explain that I lost my parents when I was a child and was almost adopted a few times before being landed with trophy-seeking foster parents. Anyway, I'm not in a hurry to go through that again. As long as I did as I was told and was a credit to them, they didn't badger or nag me. I spent the rest of my childhood and a good part of my teen years being nervous from all the nagging and pushing they did. I was so glad when I was accepted to college at sixteen. For the next two years I spent all my time at school and when I was eighteen I was so happy that I celebrated by buying myself some new books, which were a pretty big luxury in my student days.
NOW what's going on? NAP? The nurses are saying it's naptime. I'd like to see them try it. There is NO wa—
Later:
I wish I knew a word bad enough to call these nurses. (It's ironic that I know all these languages and I can't even think of one to say.) They just picked me up and put me in bed when I told them I didn't need a nap. The worst part of the situation was that they stayed in the room to make sure we stayed in bed. I tried getting up, but one of them (I still don't know their names) tucked me back into bed with the admonition to stay there until naptime was over. I didn't have to sleep, she said, but I did have to stay in bed. What happened? I actually fell ASLEEP! When I woke up I heard, "Now, don't you feel better?" She almost got a pillow in the face, but instead I got out of bed and hobbled my way over to the table and to this paper. I've folded the whole pile into a little book, and I'll find some way to fasten the pages together so I can keep them in order. I wonder if—
Karres is here. Time to talk to him.
Even later:
Well, THAT was productive. He came to take us swimming. It's good exercise, yes, but was it really necessary? He kept avoiding talking to me and brushed off my explanations, but I did learn the names of the other "kids." Mauras was almost sixty when he was selected for the "youth procedure" as it's called, and he said that even all the aches and pains have been worth it. He's very happy about being a kid again and told me that I should be glad it's happened. (I managed to resist the urge to drown him, but it was a very close thing.) Yena was in her fifties, and she said that she's so glad it's happened. After all, she said, she'll get to eat good food every day, spend a lot of time having fun and being taken care of by two people who love her and won't let her have any worries. Everyone else said similar things, so I gave up. Karres said he was happy to see me socializing. He reminds me of a dad I saw once at the park with his kids. He was throwing us up in the air and catching us and towing us through the water and playing water games. He'd brought lots of toys that floated—balls, swim rings, foam noodles. (How about that? Interstellar pool toys!) I wasn't about to play, so I grabbed hold of a noodle and floated around, kicking my feet and trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. Nothing came to mind, and Karres did say one thing to me that I find very aggravating. "Daniel, why are you making yourself so miserable? If you'd try to have a little fun you would feel a lot better." I'M the one making myself miserable? PLEASE! HE'S the one who SHRANK me! If that's not a reason to be miserable, I don't know what is. The nurses are getting supper ready, so I have to put this away. More later.
Day 2
Fell asleep after I finished eating last night, and I didn't even wake up when the nurses cleaned me up and put me into bed. Just had breakfast and my morning wash, and now I'm back in bed waiting for my turn at physical therapy. The sooner my muscles are back in working order, the better. As soon as I can walk, I'm getting the heck out of here.
Later:
Physical therapy was nice today, because in addition to the exercises I had to do I was given a massage. Apparently massages can "wake your muscles up," as the therapist told me. The whole massage felt incredible, and I feel as if I've been given a new body. I don't hurt as much, but moving is still difficult. Ranak—the PT—said that it won't be long before I can move without a problem. Good.
Even later:
Had an impromptu nap and was woken up by people talking. There's some kind of game going on at the table, but I really don't want to play. I'm not a kid, despite my appearance.
Evening:
I wish I were back at the SGC and under the care of Janet. I don't like Karres at all, he's far too patronizing. He insists on treating me like a child. He says that legally I am a child here, and until I'm with the couple who's adopting me, then I'm a ward of the state. I refuse to think about this much longer.
Day 5
Too depressed to write much for the last few days. Physical therapy going okay, but homesickness seems to be affecting my therapy, because the Ranak says that my progress is beginning to slow.
Received a surprise from my adoptive parents today. Karres brought it. It's a scrapbook filled with pictures and captions. There are pictures of the house, the parents, the neighborhood, and the school I'll be going to. If anything, that book made me more depressed. It made everything seem real.
I wish SG-1 were here.
Day 10
Karres is worried, but I feel too apathetic to be concerned. I've lost weight despite eating three hearty meals a day. Also, I'm actually beginning to lose muscle. Ranak is frantic, but I really don't care. I feel too tired to worry about anything. I take naps without a problem now, even when it's not time for one. The nurses fuss, often making me join in games or listening to stories. Today we had art. We have all sorts of activities planned for us besides free play. Games, stories, dancing, music, art. We were set up with easels and paints and told to paint something that we loved. I didn't want to paint, but the nurses set me up with an easel and refused to allow me to curl up on my bed like I wanted. What did I paint? Nothing, really. Blobs and squiggles. I asked Karres why we had to do all of these children's activities when none of us were really kids. He told me that they served several purposes: One, we would learn to socialize with one another and make friends. Socialization helps a person recover from illness better than being alone. (At that he looked pointedly at me, but I ignored him.) Two, the activities provided physical movement, which was beneficial to our recovery. Three, we would learn how to play and how to be children again. What a waste of time. I'm not staying here long enough to be adopted.
Day 13
Woke up in pain this morning. Ranak says that I'm not working hard enough to get better, but what does he know? I want to get out of here, so OF COURSE I'm working hard enough! Geez! Even worse, he informed Karres, and now I'm being given something called "intensive therapy." A nurse is going to come in a few minutes to take me down for it, so I'd better put this away.
Later:
Intensive therapy was not what I thought. It started with a massage, and it was pretty much a full-body one. Janet had ordered one for me during my first year with the SGC when she felt I was too stressed out. It did relax me, but I wasn't used to it. I was wearing nothing but a towel during that massage, and the masseuse was a big, muscular guy named Carl. Fortunately, he understood I was nervous and joked until I calmed down enough to actually benefit from it, and today was something similar, except that Ranak is more my size. My proper size, I mean. Instead of joking while he massaged my muscles, he hummed little tunes under his breath and the humming relaxed me pretty quickly. We started talking, and before too long I'd told Ranak about being orphaned, yadda yadda. He told me that I wasn't going to languish in foster care for years and years, but I was going to my new parents in just a few short days, just as soon as I was able to walk and move without a problem. It would be to my advantage to work with him and focus on getting better. I asked him if these new "parents" would allow me to see my friends from Earth, and he said that he could think of no reason why not.
Hmmm.
Even if they're NOT willing to let me see Jack, Sam, and Teal'c, getting better and getting out of here will actually benefit me. I won't be watched so closely, and I'll be able to walk. I'll be able to walk about, do research, and I'll be able to learn where the Gate is and how to get back to it. I may not have my GDO, but I'll be able to Gate myself to another world with radio capability and contact the SGC that way. There's no way they can watch me every moment of every day. Sooner or later I'll slip off and make it home.
Day 15
Working very hard during physical therapy. Still going for intensive, which is usually massage and some kind of exercises. My handwriting's a lot better, and I can walk now. Slow going still, and I hurt if I walk too much, but I'm up and moving. I go home with my new parents—Mara and Karl—in five more days. Here's hoping something good happens.