[Monday, 25 September, 2006]

I was shocked to see the appointment date on the paper for my physiotherapy during the weekends as I keyed the date into my website’s calendar. The nurse told me it was a Monday but the calendar showed it was a Tuesday. I checked the date of my computer and finally confirmed that was a cock up.

“26/09/06 Monday”

My mum claimed I should just follow the date instead of the day but I did not want to risk changing the appointment to a day after my ORD day.

On the day itself, I went online to check but realised the website had some bugs or it was just too high-knowledge-required. Then, I took the appointment card for my other hospital appointment and dialled the number, which I realised it worked. I was lucky that I did not take the assumption of my mum.

At first, I wanted to walk over like usual, except this time with my crutches; however, my mum was worried that I could not take it and insisted to take cab there. On the way down to level one, in my attempt to make quick step, I almost fell down from the top of the stairs with my poor crutch drop on the floor.

This time, I was quite ashamed of having my mum to abandon her work to accompany me there; unlike usually I was just afraid she would give me extra problems. I paid for the cab fare which was around four bucks.

By then, we were super early. I was hoping to see Joanna, my previous pretty physiotherapist, but luck was not with me. After filling up a small survey form and waited less than half an hour, I was called by Suelyn and I followed her in.

I seemed quite lost somehow and she thought I was very afraid. She asked me to tell her story about the lump and I was caught by it; basically I could not really remember the full story after the long negligence. Then, she taught me a few stretching and strengthening ways for my muscle, which I had foreseen earlier.

I should be taught during my hospitalised days so that I needed not make an extra trip down. I was worried for my next appointment anyway for it was after my ORD date.

I wanted to take the shuttle bus down to Outram MRT but my mum insisted to take cab again. We stopped by the Post Office and this time she paid for it. We went into the new medical shop first and the man was trying to persuade us to get the more expensive tape. Since I did not need that, we insisted to get the nice transparent plastic one which was three times cheaper; I guessed the shop might not survive for long given the price of rental big space at the location.

The conclusion for the day was my mum was really great except that we always had communication problems.