“You are 10 minutes late, Mrs Lee. Our clinic runs on time, as you know.”

I tried not to be too rude but had to interpret what the receptionist was saying. I gave her an apologetic Korean smile. She nodded.

“Your therapist will be out in a minute so take a seat.”

We turned around and walked through a few rows of chairs. She grabbed the first empty chair next to the white wall. She was so glad to sit down while saying this, “I missed my bus. I rang my husband ten times to pick me up from the bus stop. He just wouldn’t pick up the phone. I am so mad at him. What else could I do? I had to wait for the next bus. I had to almost run with my bad knees.”

This time she gave me an apologetic smile behind her dark sunglasses. Her huge black sun visor hat had a sparkly embroidered butterfly on top, blocking half her face. I still could see her age. 74 years old? She looked younger for her age, still walking (did she say she ran?), talking and still showing anger.

We wait for her therapist.

“Oh Mrs Lee. Come on in. My name is Clara, your occupational therapist today.”

Already two other patients were seeing their therapist on two separate tables across the room and they were talking loud and constantly. I knew I had to raise my voice here.

“Show me your fingers, Mrs Lee.”

Bandaged up, suddenly two fingers were coming out of her pockets and placed on the table. Clara opened the old bandage, without asking, to reveal the white pinkish flesh underneath. She pressed the area a few times, while watching Mrs Lee’s face.

“No pain here, Mrs Lee? That’s good. How long have you been wearing this bandage? You can’t have showers with this thing on. Water is trapped underneath, you see, and it can get infected. I will give you new bandage to take home.”

“Did you check the x-ray?”

“Yes, not a fracture, just a tear of ligament”

“The foldable seat on the bus sprang up so quickly and I thought that I was going to lose my finger!”

“The seat was fractured, not your finger. You are very lucky, Mrs Lee.”