3/03/2006 08:39:00 p.m.|W|P|Susan|W|P|This has been an...educational week, and by educational I mean humbling. I have to get my Swedish driver's license; my Canadian one was only valid for my first year here. I took the theory test in August, and I thought, that's the tough bit over for me. I had a driving lesson this week, and I had been thinking, I've just been in Canada for 4 1/2 months, and did quite a lot of driving. This will be no problem; just need a lesson or two to iron out any bad habits. Wrong. It turns out that my aggressive Toronto driving style comes across as borderline psycho here in laid-back Sweden, especially in a city of 120,000. I am going to have to re-learn a lot of things, and this will take time. It's not as simple as I had hoped, and it won't just be a matter of saying, 'Relax, relax' to myself as I drive. The other learning curve right now has to do with my new job. I am working at a retirement home in town, and I am very thankful to have this job. I am one of the on-call staff; they call me if someone gets sick or if they know in advance that someone wants to take a day off. I only worked Wednesday evening this past week, and will be working this coming Wednesday evening as well. It's a very pleasant place to work; everything is kept up nicely, and the staff take excellent care of the residents. They are also very patient and supportive as I learn, well, everything. There are 11 residents on our floor, and each of them has a different routine - some of them can dress and feed themselves, some can't. I learn a lot with every shift I work, but at the moment things go more slowly whenever I am working because I just don't know enough yet. That doesn't feel so good. I know that every new job involves a learning curve, and since the long-term staff aren't putting pressure on me, I don't need to be so hard on myself. It's not easy, though, to go from a job I could do to starting with something entirely new. (I did this in October in Canada as well.) I do enjoy my interactions with the residents. Several of them can communicate quite well, but several of them can hardly communicate at all and are barely aware of their surroundings. One man has had a severe stroke, and the only words he can say now are 'yes' and 'no', but he still manages to joke with us, even within those limitations. There is a real difference between those who can gracefully accept the help that they need, and those who struggle with feeling like a burden. To the latter, I wish I could say, 'You have lived so long, and you have certainly helped many people along the way. Now it is your turn to be helped. One day it will be my turn.' But they can't take that in. It reminds me of the thief on the cross. When Jesus was crucified, two thieves were also crucified, one on either side of him. One of them somehow recognized who Jesus was, even in the midst of what they were both suffering. He asked Jesus to remember him, and Jesus assured him that he would be with him in paradise. This thief couldn't make any promises. He couldn't promise to do better, or to be nicer, or to set things right with the people he had wronged. He was out of time; he was dying. But he didn't have to be able to 'do' a bunch of things. In the same way, the people that I help to take care of (and I do get get paid to do this, so this isn't a humanitarian act on my part) can't do much, and will be able to do less and less. But that doesn't change the fact that they still matter, and that they are still very much loved. Even if they are almost out of time, what counts is not how much they can 'do'. In the end, it's not 'doing' that is most important.|W|P|114141603048550880|W|P|Learning curve(s)|W|P|susan@carlens.se