Before starting my first day of work in the new team (general adults + adults with learning disability), I prayed on my way to work. I prayed that God would grant me love and patience to love them. The scene of me struggling to take blood for the severely retarded patients in medical ward back in the houseman year is still very vivid. At that time I told myself, if I become one of those I better die. How about I kill you right now? What is the meaning of living a life like this? It once again reminds me that I'm truly cruel and merciless. I had an clinic session on the first day, seeing those with mental illness and learning disability. I never cease to be amazed by the endurance and love of their family members. Years after years. No holiday. Some like to play around with urine and stool. Some are aggressive. Some have no meaningful verbal communication. They are all God's children. In this aspect we are no different. God loves sinners like me, cruel and merciless. If they don't derseve a decent life, neither do I. On my way home, on the bus, I looked at my 10 fingers. How lucky to have 10 functioning fingers! I shall not complain that I can't play the violin well anymore. Gotta learn how to communicate with them. I don't know what they are talking and I don't think they know what I ask. Saw an elderly man who has been dependent on alcohol for more than 40 years. Labelled as "antisocial personality". He put a weapon under a pillow, planning to kill the "unhelpful" helper at home. He appeared to be like one of the happy, demented elderly. Denied everything. When I asked how he started to drink alcohol in a very routine way, he was quiet for a few seconds, then became tearful. His tongue couldn't move normally due to the side effect of drug, thus it took sometime to hear what he talked. I was busy writing on the case note. "People in my village were killed." "Your business?" I asked in my mind. Of course I rephrased it when I spoke it out. Then I found out that all of his fmaily members were killed at once, by guns, in the Cultural Revolution. His family were landlords. He started sobbing like a little child. He reminded me of another elderly lady, who was a doctor in China. She suffered a lot in the Cultural Revolution. Recurrent depressions. "You don't know what happened to me. They hit me. My body is weak because they hit me." I'm glad that my father, who went through all these, is still very talkative, loud-spoken and boastful. I know I should watch more movies and read up more non-academic books to enrich my understanding of life. I'm ambivalent. Everytime it stirs up a lot of emotion. After watching "The Reader", I'm here typing in front of the computer at 3am. I go to sleep. Able to sleep on a comfortable bed, in my room, with a fan, is a luxury to many. | 
