Personal Log

Posted on Mon Apr 20th, 2026 @ 4:17pm by Lieutenant JG Tuhjer Mil

532 words; about a 3 minute read

Just had my Welcome Aboard appointment with our Chief Medical Officer, and to my own surprise, I think it went rather well. That’s not something I say lightly, considering I’ve never been overly fond of people in the medical profession. My discomfort isn’t rooted in anything dramatic or life‑threatening, just a deeply unpleasant experience when I was eight years old. I won’t go into the details, mostly because I’d rather not relive them, but it was the sort of childhood ordeal that leaves a mark. I remember being miserable for days afterwards, confused and upset in that way only a child can be, and ever since then I’ve done everything in my power to avoid seeing a doctor unless absolutely necessary. Not the wisest approach when one’s health is involved, I know, but early experiences have a way of imprinting themselves on you, shaping your instincts long before you’re old enough to question them.

Despite all that, the good doctor made the appointment far less stressful than I had anticipated. She’s remarkably knowledgeable about Trill physiology, both hosts and symbionts, and, to my mild embarrassment, seems to know more about symbionts than I do. If I had been an initiate, trained properly and prepared for the responsibilities of joining, perhaps our knowledge would be on equal footing. But I wasn’t. I’m a joined Trill who was thrust into the role without warning, without desire, and without a single moment of training. Emergency joining is a strange thing: one moment you’re yourself, and the next you’re… still yourself, but also not. You inherit lifetimes of memories and instincts, yet lack the grounding that initiates spend years cultivating. It’s like being handed a library and told you’re now responsible for its entire contents, even though you’ve never learned the catalogue system.

The doctor, to her credit, didn’t treat me like a curiosity or a problem to be solved. She simply reviewed my scans, asked thoughtful questions, and explained everything clearly. It turns out my isoborime levels are slightly elevated, not dangerously so, but enough to warrant monitoring. Apparently this is a known issue among Emergency Joined Trill, something about the host‑symbiont neural interface adapting under pressure rather than through the usual gradual process. She didn’t seem alarmed, which helped me not be alarmed, but she did say she’d like to keep an eye on it. I suppose that’s fair. I’ll have to do some reading on the subject; I’m sure the Symbiosis Commission Archives will have something buried in their records. They always do.

Walking out of Sickbay, I found myself feeling oddly lighter. Not because anything miraculous happened, but because the appointment reminded me that I’m not navigating all of this alone. There are people aboard who understand Trill biology far better than I do, people who can help me make sense of the parts of joining that still feel overwhelming. Maybe, in time, I’ll even stop flinching at the idea of medical check‑ups. Stranger things have happened.


Lieutenant JG Tuhjer Mil
Engineering Officer
USS Tokyo

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