What’s that? I had to start a new social media profile, after ten plus years of having a profile in my name. You don’t say. You know the one.
I had a decent buying/selling rating on the place that was a market also. But alas, it’s all gone. Why? How the hell would I know. All I know is after a few hours on Insta I had found my sweet spot of definitely not real squirrels holding their mouths open at the side making very annoying noises like a child. Me sharing them to previously mentioned social media platform wanted me to sign into my profile using a picture of myself. Not particularly keen to use my actual face for anything I kept swiping as advised by my younger tech support. Apparently, you can only swipe so many times before. What’s that? It thinks you’re a bot for sharing so much AI generated content.
That guy whose initials start with Mark Zuckerberg deserves to be sued. The platform is encouraging AI everywhere and the moment some nuffer over shares this squirrel I get blocked.
And I’m only guessing this is the reason why. I did indeed appeal. It was rejected and there was no reason for why they then shut down my account.
I mean, I don’t love doing selfies, I don’t do filters, who gives a flying tutti fruiti if I wear make-up even. But here’s a recent effort at a comedy gig with one of my lovely assistants. I’m the one concentrating on trying to get us both in the frame. It did hurt and you can see how much I was concentrating on getting it done.
P.S. Shaming someone with their initials like that is a classic 2005 Shanism from my time working at Voldemort. I’ve been meaning to use it for a long time.
I remember when I bought my forever home, I thought I had a dishwasher in it. I mean, I wasn’t buying a dishwasher with an apartment around it, some walls, a bathroom thrown in, a balcony, a view etcetera, etcetera. However, I thought the dishwasher actually worked. It did not.
It sounded like it was trying to finish a cycle. It made noise non-stop. Eventually, the MEPACS guy, turned it off inside the cupboard. Silence, God help me!
I had plumbers in, twice leading up to Christmas ’24 to fix said dishwasher. The second time, I said “If its fucked! Just call it!” I was suggesting “was the fat lady singing?” And the next thing my dad bought me for Christmas was a Miele dishwasher.
Again, not a paid advert, Miele was the dishwasher of choice with the cutlery drawer in the top. My uncle and aunt’s kitchen have one so I knew it was of the best quality. Shopping for a dishwasher taught me the most common issue with buying a new home is the dishwasher is usually fire trucked, sellers throw an old dishwasher in there just so it looks like it has one. It doesn’t mean it’s working or even plumbed in properly.
Christmas ’24 without a dishwasher was hard. I was doing some dishes one-handed to get ahead of my carers doing the things I couldn’t do.
Don’t worry, my gift from my dad had arrived before Christmas but it had sat like a giant paperweight in my study until after all the tradies returned to work in January. Despite paying for an install, I still had to get the plumbers back, then call Miele to reimburse the install fee I had paid and then pay the plumbers again.
Love you Dad, thank you Dad.
Honestly, if you wanted to scratch your eyes out just reading that post, I dream of conversations about the dishwasher when needing to sort the scooter replacement and storage. The whole scooter replacement and storage issue makes me want to kill myself. Unless that is the plan? Well played.
I don’t know what it is these days, but I’ve recently been looking for the perfect vase. I know, we are going full homeware today. I’m often happiest in a homeware store. I have my favourites and will travel to visit them. I don’t have a lot of room anymore for big things but I’m always happy to look and add a little something small.
I am not planning to be a crazy hoarder later in life. But alas I digress, I’ve had reason recently to need to replace two brilliant vases I’d bought when I was about eighteen. Yes, I’m sounding old as I type these words, but I feel you need to understand the context to appreciate the bold statement I made in one homewares store where it would seem vases these days are bigger than they need to be and want to be in a home with fuck all in it and nobody lives there. They are showpieces, not homes.
I discovered a homewares store in Collins Street Melbourne, in a shopping complex that hasn’t existed for, I don’t know twenty years. I bought it and the small bag of blue flat marbles to put in the bottom. In my twenties I regularly bought myself red roses for very little. It wasn’t challenging and at some point, I bought an equally classically styled second vase. The first was square and tallish, with clear glass, the second rectangular, taller rather more solid. They stood the test of time from 1993 to three years ago.
Can all the tall people in the room stand between Helen and the band playing? Asking for a friend. I mean, I’m not a little person. But I’m height challenged and hands down the stool I have been kindly provided with is impossible to sit on.
And then you, yes, YOU! The guy closest to me, just move a little to the left, then a little to the right. So, I can’t settle in a spot so I can see, really helpful.
So, that one fucking guy, short sides, but spikes on top and ears that stick out like a fucking minty.
This post is not in any way shape or form intended or otherwise racist. This is how my carers and friends will randomly converse.
Went to see a band with a much younger friend, during the warmer months she is darker, but I don’t really notice.
The gift was an older crowd. She was Id’d on the way in as she looks young and the woman that chose not to be Id’d, me (must have noticed my testing crazy bitch face) looks to me and said she looks really good, I thought she was 21. I said that’s because she’s only 27.
Sitting in a closed off area to one side, I kept glancing past her to see who was heading to the front area to dance. She had noted there were no dark people there. Specifically using the word “black!” As in her people.
She said barely Ok, I see some Asian, she said, I see some Indian but no African or Polynesian people.
It was 5th October 2025 I think sometimes I do love to mention people by name. Particularly when it’s for good reasons. But today I’m going to share an antidote about Auntie Christine. There were three at my council at this time and it was rather comical. In this instance Auntie Christine was the first to get the endearment Auntie. She was Jamima’s Aunty first and she was best known for teaching me the terms “Apron” and “Terrarium” These were the parts of your body that when drying require lifting to dry underneath. The Apron I think named after a 1950’s housewife’s kitchen garment is the part of your belly, men and women that does not stay flat. One older carer who had come from a nursing background would tell me the older bigger men she would shove her forearm up into a client’s apron to lift so she could dry underneath. She said mine wasn’t terrible.
Then, the terrarium? I heard you ask. She said Auntie Christine again, she once went to her doctor with an itchy belly button. The doctor said she had a plant growing in there. She had not dried it properly over time and it grew something. Obviously, the term terrarium creates a nice warm moist environment perfect for small plants or fungus to grow.
The most important part of Auntie Christine was when I learnt she had been a carer for about forty years. I asked her, “I bet you have seen a few bodies?” and I guess we are all critical about our bodies. And it’s hard to imagine putting all that aside to just do a job. Where everything you do is important, might be the kindest touch they have had in a long time. It’s the sentiment in which we communicate how much we care or even that this person is cared for. Auntie Christine answered my question with such a simple and wise response. “Bodies are bodies.” and when you put it like that it does make perfect sense.
Lastly, Auntie Christine was that carer who had to stand there while a family member tore me apart, even when I knew what was coming and tried to steer this conversation in another direction, she double down and kept verbally attacking me until I was in tears. So, it seemed this family member would not have been happy until I was in that state. This family member while beloved will also decide to throw criticism at me when my friend is merely complimenting them for their daughter. She will try to do this because I’ve found other elders to advise me and receive my kindness. I feel they do this because I am a confident and happy person when I’m living life, trying to smile and make people happy.
Meanwhile, Auntie Christine has been retired for about ten years she and her husband living in the country.
This post leads me to say the young male ambulance person that was standing at the end of my bed while I lay there stark naked. He was too young to have seen enough bodies. I was not delirious but mostly not able to string sentences together except to say I was cold and just wanted to go to sleep.
It’s hard and impossible when it’s most important that I cannot tell people who need to know, how I cannot regulate temperature. My head is not and the rest of me is cold. I need to warm my body and sleep off my head returning to normal temperature.
So, sometimes you just know. I’ve been trying a few new carers lately. Trying to find the one that fits into the big gaping hole left by my last super awesome Girl Friday.
Might have been when we pulled up at the Officeworks store and she asked if she needed to bring anything? “Two working arms and a will to live!” “I’ve got one of those things!”
I cannot tell you how happy dark heart and soul that matches mine does for me!
Once a week on a Sunday I have a lovely carer that is the sweetest lady. To be fair, most days my carers will ask how my week went/how my forthcoming week will be? And all my carers are lovely but specifically on Sundays. I tell her I can’t even remember. It’s this process, it comes flooding back. Monday, I had Botox for FREE. Because I had it in my leg, which doesn’t look younger. I had an inspection of the waterproofing on my balcony.
Tuesday, I saw the vampire, officially a phlebotomist for an upcoming appointment. I saw Young John twice to get me there and home again. I once would have just fanged it there on my scooter. But I digress, I went home, inhaled brunch, then out again for a massage.
Home again, smashed out a pasta bake one-handed. Managed to get it in the oven one-handed and sent an S.O.S. in the community chat to help me get it out again. Win! Sent some to a neighbours.
Wednesday, standard midday appointment, was not late. Coffees from favourite café, lunch to go, visit to bank to order new handy card, FFS!
A zoom that I missed with my car team, I received notes later. I have a new Support Coordinator she’s a gun. She’s already got help from her lawyer friends quoting the disability discrimination Act on the whole scooter and storage cage issue.
Thursday, had meeting in my car space with my overqualified handyman and my new OT, asked the most taped in community board member on the OC board to discuss the storage solution for a new scooter. This is actually starting to get some traction.
Apparently, apart from all the safety concerns of a mobility scooter catching fire in the communal space that is the garage. The who’s paying for the power on my scooter topic? Which has been discussed to death in a million ways. Apparently, the committee is largely concerned about the cage being UGLY – UM, can we go with secure and practical to give me back some independence? Then we’ll sort the not ugly. Apparently, the board is much more motivated to assist now the disability discrimination has been mentioned. I will still need to get a plan of the proposed storage cage past the committee, then have my S.C. (Support Coordinator) to lodge a “Change of circumstances” review request to the NDIA including the police report the OT started in 2025 with that was paid to do a job she only half did, did not do.
Friday, standard hunter/gathering day. Robbed everywhere I went, came home, put everything away, smashed out two blonde entre pizza’s, blond being the term for no red sauce. Then walked the short distance with a neighbour to a local bar for a shoe gaze night. Had chips and gravy, delicious. Home by 10pm. Finish chores, admin, bed around 2am.
Friday also received feedback from one place I frequent on my Anzac cookies that are next levelled twice. He thought his “Mate Helen” had shared them with him. I don’t know him well enough to be considered “mate!” had I been in the game right I could have created the side-hustle, I really need to provide 300 cookies for an event. I dropped the ball. Boo.
Saturday, with an assist from my carer, smashed out the steak and salad I normally have every Friday night, ate it Saturday night for dinner. Anyone wonder why I like to go off grid on the weekend?
Some wins and loses this week. To be sure, I now still need to do more waterproofing on my balcony. Also, I need to take my previous water proofers to VCAT since they did not solve the issue yet charged me $$$$$!
Right now, it’s Sunday night of a long weekend. Is anyone imagining a calmer week for Hellonwheels?
Not to mention, I need to rebuild a social profile on a tiny social platform. You know the one? That is a post for another day.
I also managed to put a giant band aid this week on the bullet wound that was all the nights I had tickets for comedy shows, I did not have a plus one, also a separate upcoming post. P.S. Love my comedy/concert friend from Ringworm.
Every now and again I’m faced with needing something done I can no longer do one-handed. So, there are few things I no longer even attempt because I won’t LET SOMETHING BEAT me. But this is so frustrating I offer you a challenge.
If you do not own one of these, I recommend going to buy one? As no one in an office environment needs some pissed off stranger messing around with their office supplies. So, go get a stapler and put staples in it. One-Handed.
Honestly, know your limits. I consider it every time and very quickly decide not to do it. There are not enough sewer words in the Universe to get me through that challenge.
In the world of disability there are many terms for things you don’t know until you need to and that generally means you learn the hard way out of necessity. Out of your will to achieve something or your need to survive. You learn who your friends are. You work out who you can rely on.
If you don’t have family or friends who can help you do the most mundane things you might find you have a carer who can feed your cat when you go to your dad’s funeral, or you spend a night in hospital.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned but wait for it. Humble brag, Mika is not food orientated, but she still expects to be fed, every night.
Also, kind neighbours, even after I moved were lovely enough to drop into my new home to feed my fur baby and not expect to be paid to do so. That is officially an informal support.
When I moved late last year, yes, still so much trauma around that. The moving day left me with all my tech, TV, AMP, CD carousel, drying racks, lamps, mirrors, candlesticks. So much I valued and needed to be moved and every day I was reaching out to busy people to see what they could help me with.
Now, I’ve got friends, I love and respect their time, I have later discussed my need at that time and that they were not friends I felt should need to help me for things like that.
You would be surprised when you really need help how few of the people you know are not free and I would not have expected people to drop anything to assist me, so I started asking carers who I had no funding to book them and bit by bit over the last week I had friends come from two hours away who helped when they had barely slept going through a shitty break up. Who came and helped for literally me buying them lunch. Fuel to get them through.
A carer who literally treats me like family assisted me with a few car trips and when I tried to sneak some cash into her hand, she vehemently told me that “Anybody that took money from me, shouldn’t!”
OK, fuck it. It’s now almost 1am, better go to bed.
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 