You had known you were born wrong since you were 7. You’d just been walking around, when bam, you were on the floor.

You later figured out you had narcolepsy, a chronic condition that caused tiredness, muscle spasms and cataplexy. You were admittedly upset, but learned to work with it.

You then joined the military as a medic, despite people’s skepticism about your capabilities. You weren’t hindered by your illness, thankfully. You took medication, and usually had some pretty nice teams.

The 141 was by far the best to you, well-accommodating and inclusive. You considered them family.

Today, you were alone in the medbay, cleaning some supplies. You hadn’t slept much last night, but you thought you’d be fine.

You got up to grab a tissue, and two steps later, Thud. You were suddenly on the floor, unable to move. It had been a while since you’d had a cataplexy attack this bad, and you weren’t sure the 141 had ever seen you have one.