Chapter 2 - Mia

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I looked out the window from the car's back seat for the hundredth time. This year had been more stressful than usual. I had been to two specialists and my primary doctor, trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

In April, I was diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome - POTS - and soon after my diagnosis, my life changed more. It meant I had to be careful how long I was out in the heat and watch what I ate.

In May, I learned cheese was a trigger food. Cheese! I love cheese!

This would be my third summer at camp, but now, unlike years before, when I could walk without being exhausted, I was attending on crutches. My doctors had the hope that by doing so, I would be less likely to faint.

I looked at Mom and sighed.

"Are we almost there?" I asked yet again.

"You just asked ten minutes ago. Listen." As the van turned onto a dirt road, I heard counsellors cheering for campers who were arriving before me.

I slouched down in my seat as we approached a counsellor who asked me if I, too, wanted my name cheered. Grateful that she had asked me for permission before she did so, I shook my head.

Check-in took two hours. I got my med badge - an ID with my name on it that I would wear at med times so the nurse knew which camper I was.

Once done with that, I went to meet my counsellors.

I would be placed in a cabin with seven other girls this summer. I wasn't looking forward to it. In the years before, since I wasn't a teenager until now - newly thirteen, as Mom and I joked - I had been in the kids' cabins.

This summer, I was with the older girls, who likely already knew each other.

"Here we are, Mia." Michelle, a tan woman with an unrecognizable accent, said as she helped me settle in.

Soon, I heard more cheering from up on the hill. I stood up, using my crutches, and waited to meet my fellow cabinmates. I just hoped the new arrival was kind.

Well, it turned out she was, as I recognized her as Rykel, a camper I had met my first year here. We were close and started catching up on what had been happening since the last time we saw each other. She was in a purple wheelchair.

"I love the crutches! New accessory?" she laughed at her own joke.

"Oh totally. Unfortunately it didn't come with any jewelry. Would have been amazing to have earrings with it."

A counselor soon walked by, though, and told us to quiet down. But having known each other two years before, being excited to see each other again, and anticipating being here for a month, we were unable to quiet down.

In fact, our voices probably carried to the 'counsellor den,' where the counsellors on the night shift stayed. There were usually three counsellors on the night shift and three off-duty for the night.

Except for the one time two summers ago when I woke up at two in the morning and discovered that none of our counsellors were in the den. Or even in the cabin.

"Meds in ten. Line up if you guys have meds. We're still waiting on Alex." a counsellor who hadn't introduced herself to me yet said.

"Who's Alex?"

Whispering started moving from girl to girl as everyone wondered about the missing camper.

My question was soon answered as I stood in the line for meds. The girl looked normal enough, but perhaps, like me, she had an invisible disability. You can't always tell someone is sick just by looking at them.

As we walked to the infirmary, the smell of lunch wafted through the air. Even though it was only ten in the morning, it was common to smell lunch at this time of day.

I sighed as we entered the infirmary, and soon, it was my turn for meds. Speedily taking them, I rushed out the door on my crutches.

Recalling the rules of waiting for your fellow cabinmates and the staff who came to the building with you, I sat down and held my med badge in my hand. I'd give it back to Sally when she returned with everyone else.

Unfortunately, I hadn't brought anything to the infirmary with me. I usually did, just to occupy myself while waiting with the others.

"Mia, you alright?" Sally asked as she walked out of the building with more of my cabinmates.

Unable to get myself to speak, I nodded and started to sign: 'Yeah, I'm fine. Low hearing aid battery', I lied. 

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