It came as a bit of a stunner for Miss Brown's caregivers when they found out that not only had her appointments been postponed to the early part of this year, the staff had also scheduled them to be on two different days (in the same week) contrasting her usual one.
Those two days, however, turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Especially when it was soon realized that her appointments had been scheduled for the last week of January, Chinese New Year was in the first week of February, and (as it later turned out) the Health Ministry announced a ban on visits to all residential care homes for three weeks starting from end January all the way to mid February.
Those two days at once became a treasured opportunity.
Two days Miss Brown went to the clinic at Level 1 of Annex 2.
Two days Miss Brown also went to the Toast Box on Level 1 for a meal.
It wasn't a grand meal- the original plan had been to take her to the mall opposite, but what with Omnicron and TraceTogether and whatever not, it was decided that better she remain on the hospital grounds instead.
Nevertheless, (we hope) it was a satisfying one.
Life is such that there are times where you have to decide what it is you really want to do.
You can have the whole shebang of abalone, roast duck, steamed fish, shiny tablecloths and chandeliers on the walls- but the matriarch or patriarch cannot consume the food.
You can even force a gathering of family members and friends for the sake of reunion and togetherness- but family does not want to spend money (whilst letting you know it), and friends don't care.
Miss Brown (and her caregivers) have long come to the acceptance that looks and tradition don't matter.
What matters is that she can eat whatever it is on the table, that she likes whatever she is eating, and no need for decor or for people who don't care.
(Festive) lunch this year constituted of crispy kaya butter toast, a slice of chocolate cake, soft boiled eggs and a few pieces of roasted salmon belly sushi sneaked in from the sushi outlet in the mall next door.
Dont' laugh at the inclusion of sushi in the meal.
This particular choice of roasted salmon belly sushi not only is soft and tasty. Most importantly it has rice, and is of significance to Miss Brown too.
See, there once used to be a time when Miss Brown patronized this outlet's several branches nearly every day.
It wasn't because she had grown a sudden love for Japanese sushi in her senior years, but because post-stroke, doctor's orders had necessitated an abrupt dietary change.
Let's just say it took some time for her to get adjusted to the new diet, and an even longer time for her to fall in love with the same diet.
To her this piece of roasted salmon belly sushi symbolized a complete change from her previous lifestyle.
It also symbolized the choices made by her family and loved ones.
Some of those choices, unfortunately, weren't very pleasant.
From being able to wake up at will and live her life (more or less) at will, now she had to turn up at the 5th floor clinic of TTSH at an early hour of 8am three times a week for therapy.
Once a week she had to go to a daycare center at another place for recommended activities.
Miss Brown didn't like her new schedule very much.
She didn't like her (new) life either.
It would be several weeks before she dumped the large misshapen tote (in which she had stuffed many things inside) for a smaller, neater backpack, a side-slung black messenger bag, and two handbags.
One bag she bought from the BATA in Peninsula Plaza.
The other she bought from a makeshift stall in the mall opposite the hospital.
By then she had also gone through several red tops and red bottoms (because the new lifestyle had taken place around Chinese New Year and she'd taken the acupuncturist's words to wear red quite literally).
There would be several more changes in Miss Brown's life over the course of the next few years.
She would move from her home to B Hospital to K Community Hospital to the R residential care home.
She would also experience issues that (I reiterate) no elderly person seventy over years of age should have to go through.
All through those years the clinic on the 5th floor of the Medical Center had been her constant.
No more so today.
Today marked as much a change as the last one she had had six years prior.
It was like coming to a new place altogether.
Gone were the comfortable armchairs, the coffee tables, the strategically placed potted plants, the warm lights, and the coffee machine.
Gone too were the sights and sounds of the gym behind the reception counter.
Now- on the first floor of the Centre for Geriatric Medicine- there were more turns she had to make and more lifts she had to take.
There were also more people (supposedly) she would meet along the way.
But at least her doctor was the same.
And at least the nurse who always took her blood pressure was still there.
