I’ve been posting on Facebook so friends can follow my latest adventures …
“Old age is no place for sissies,” Bette Davis said, and my mom repeated this dictum often. Now, I’ve heard the same from my husband who will turn 88 in June. None of us look forward to old age. Today, Sven had his shower, an event he looks forward to with the same enthusiasm a young boy might anticipate a family outing involving ice cream with sprinkles. David, his midday aide, was called away by an alarm from his office, so after a minute or two, I ventured into the bathroom, where my husband still sat in the shower stall, a wet towel thrown around his shoulder. I quickly replaced it with a clean dry one. Sven has lost so much weight! It was a shock to see how emaciated he has become over the past year. So, now I have added “fatten him up” to my list of goals this visit.
Cold mornings. Cold wind. Cold days. Cold nights. We’re way up north, near the Arctic Circle, in fact. I haven’t seen one real flower yet and the birch buds are still closed. Today I interviewed Robin, one of Sven’s many Social Services aides. Robin told me he has lived in Sweden for seven years. Therefore, he came during the great migration, 2015-2020, when the borders were open, and an average of 100,000 migrants per year entered the country. Robin didn’t say how he reached Libya, but in Libya, he left Africa and his family behind, back in Ethiopia. The hardship became evident from the harried look on his face, so I didn’t press for details. He reached Italy by boat. We’ve all seen the rubber boats on TV and know the risk migrants face in making this perilous journey. Somehow, in Italy he boarded an airplane for Sweden. Was he alone? I’m not sure. He now lives with his wife, who is studying to be a nurse. They have three young children. He agreed that it was tough adapting to a different climate, especially one so cold I would imagine. Unfortunately, Sven has a hard time understanding Robin’s Swedish, so they don’t talk much. With David, however, Sven has long conversations. David is from Eritrea. I met him last August and was able to observe his interaction with Sven over time. I can tell the job is important to David because he closely follows rules, which is a big plus here. The conversation yesterday involved how tough it is for migrants to find a girlfriend. Both David and Robin take very good care of Sven, and for that I’m grateful.
Every day I take the bus from Lulea north to Ranea. The buses are on time and efficient, but infrequent. The 25-minute ride is pleasant, passing birch forests and fields. Here and there, I see farmhouses, but few people. Ranea seems to be considered as a far suburb of Lulea. Yesterday, one of Sven’s aides told me that Ranea teenagers have a choice of high schools. They can study forestry in Kalix, east of here, or mechanics, in Boden, west of here. The third option is economics in Lulea itself. So, those high school teenagers all take buses too.
I have now spent a week in Sweden. Upon my arrival, Sven seemed over-medicated, but I’ve been handling that by snitching the paracetamol from his doses if he has no pain. During my first days here, when he walked, he had so much pain that it was hard to watch. So, yesterday I contacted the local massage parlor. Andreas, one of the employees, has 30 years of experience as a PT. He came to Sven’s studio and worked on his back and his leg for 45 minutes. Cost: $90. Well worth the money. The massage helped a lot. No grimacing from Sven today during his walk
My husband is receiving too many meds, in my humble opinion. Paracetemol seems to be a favorite here. In the USA, the brand is Tylenol Extra Strength. The morning Social Services aide is supposed to give him two, ie. 1000 mil. I have been asking him first whether he has pain. He usually says no. So, quietly I remove the pills. Paracetamol is apparently bad for the liver. Caregivers, “aides,” come four times a day. They are friendly and experienced. Their time on site has been diminished after the Swedish government voted to instead reduce their own taxes. (!!!) But the aides come and help Sven with whatever needs he may have. Swedes pay high taxes. When Sven was teaching high school history, 70% of his salary went to taxes. The elder care was supposed to be free. Now, they charge like $250/month. What a difference with what is available in the USA.
The houses in Lulea come in different colors: pink, green, beige, but most are varying shades of yellow. This morning, I was trying to find the correct bus slip and asked a woman if I was in the right place. We commiserated about the fact that the modern signs are not working. She said, “They probably don’t have the money to fix them.”
Sweden admitted too many migrants and is playing catch-up on many fronts. Technology seems fine. Forestry works. A few Swedes stuck it rich, like in music and Minecraft, but most of the people I have met must watch how they spend their Kronor.
Medical treatment has been in the news here of late. People are beginning to wake up and request (not demand—Swedes are polite) improvement. Hospitals are being shut down. Like, for instance, in Lulea. They also closed the hospital in Boden. Now everyone must drive or take public transportation to a town in between: Sunderbyn, where they built a new facility. Today I discovered Sven’s lovely young doctor has been repurposed, sent off for four months of training in pediatrics. I will miss her. We have an appointment with a new doctor, because the nurse cannot change the drug regimen herself. Ranea has two doctors for 4000 residents. Let’s hope Sweden trains more.
