In the name of Allah, The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful.

Right now, I’m really knackered but I’m struggling to find a comfortable position to sleep.

The plastic surgery department doctor decided not to dress my wounds.

So bare. So open. Kinda painful that it’s straining.

But I have to get used to this for the next seven days. I stress nao.

So far it’s looking better for me but it’s going to be extremely troublesome to care for.

My husband has forbidden me from leaving the house now since I’m walking around with open wounds.

I received very nice treatment from the nurses there though. I felt like I was being mothered.

While one Chinese nurse worked on cleaning my wounds and talked about how her child is better at the Bible than her, the other Malay nurse brushed my hair and applied olive oil and talked about how her child is better at the Quran than her.

That is the Singapore I’m fond of.

I thank God for allowing me to be attended by very good and caring medical staff.

So back to the subject, I have to adjust to this new norm: having to withstand the pain while showering and cleaning the wounds and having to sleep on my tummy.

I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep.

The medical staff were also concerned that I have yet to alert the salon about this. To be honest, I’m just not in the headspace to face conflict. I just want to heal.

I don’t know. Should I alert them? I’d probably do it myself. Can I just email them? Sighs.

And Allah is Adz-Dzhahir, The Manifest. – MM