So, when my surgeon took off my casts for good, he told me that I wouldn't need physiotherapy, which struck me as sort of odd since I had forgotten how to walk and all.
My dad was also confused by this, so he went by the hospital and booked an appointment with the physiotherapists without asking me or my mom (my parents have been divorced since I was a baby. They are actually still really good friends, like they still talk and get along).
So now I have to go to physio.
I don't really want to. But whatever. I'll go.
In other news, a friend of mine's child was born one month ago today. Its pretty weird to think about that, since a year ago she was sitting behind me in grade nine art class.
Yes. She is 16. And has a child.
I don't know what I think about that. She's raising it alone, living with her dad.
It makes me feel less sorry for myself. I mean, a baby is more work than having CMT. Both are pretty perminate, though.