The physiotherapist was simply named Dave. He was a lean young man in his twenties with a rather average look. Even though it seemed a little bit rude to say this, but in my opinion, it would be easy to gloss over such a person if I were to see him pass by on the streets.
Dave was quite a friendly person and was quite talkative, which made me a little uncomfortable. He had already gotten my medical report from the doctors at the infirmary before arriving in the physiotherapy roon and therefore know of my situation. Therefore, when he came in and saw both of us sitting on the chairs reserved for patients on the side of the room, next to the work desk of the physiotherapist, he simply gave a smile and nodded at my father before directly gauging my body to see what sorts of activity I would be able to do in this session.