Making Things Count

Published December 7, 2018 by helentastic67

Making it Count

Making Things Count

It may or may not surprise people to know that I have done a Leadership program, which I completed back in 2012? Now, don’t get too excited, it wasn’t a massive degree or such that it would get me a cushy job, working at some multi-national, million dollar paid job, but a portion of Community Development course and the fellow students, all fifteen of us had disabilities (very different kinds) and the course was only two full days a month because the rest of the time it was presumed, because we did work on our individual projects in our own time. Some people worked, some didn’t and while the majority had an ABI (Acquired Brain Injury) or Mental Health and a random MS, Polio, Scleroderma thrown in.

Leadership

Seriously, the contrast and differences were really obvious to me. By the way, my project was this blog. It took a few more years to come to fruition, but within a few years, I now have 230 followers. I call it a win.

Project

Not my point, that’s just the background.

I find because I want my time to be productive and I want to feel like I’ve/we’ve achieved something I step up in groups I go to so it’s not a complete waste of my time.

Productive day

In recent years I’ve stepped back from the Self Advocacy group I was the treasurer, for several years and I’ve concentrated on other things, the DAC (Disability Advisory Committee) I’m part of, in my local community, I’ve been dealing with the NDIS (nightmare) and live really.

Self Advocacy Group

I find myself on the out-skirts of the Advocacy group and at times I end up (self-nominated. I’m such an idiot) conversing and moderating issues.

Moderating

I firstly try to do as much in the moment so it gets done and we can discuss and move the fuck on.

Moving On

Problem

Published December 3, 2018 by helentastic67

Problem

I have a problem! Yeah, I know I have plenty, but in this case, it is my inability to go to bed and go to sleep by 2am at times.

Getting to bed

This is not a new thing for me and depression and chronic pain skewed my sleeping patterns, go hand in hand.

Sleep Pattern

I have had ridiculous sleeping patterns since my late teens, but these days I find I need to explain why I’ve fallen into this diabolical pattern.

Diabolical Pattern

I mean I won’t die, going to bed at 2am. However, it really very much impacts everything the next day, how well my brains is rested, my left leg works etc. So, I explain it like this, having one hand, not being able to dry myself, dress my self (very well), the brain strain it takes to do simple things like prepare breakfast (yes, I can, however painfully) hunger is a great motivator, all I’m saying.

Simple tasks

But, during the day, I’m out and doing the things, like going to appointments that keep me moving independently and fed. I text and cull emails or some quick phone calls when out on trams heading home, so I save time later. I get home, I really want to crash and face-plant and sleep, but I have learned that sleep at this point is bad. I get here and I do the chores that keep my home and life going, bring in washing, unpack/repack dishwasher etc.

Faceplant

I generally need time to rest and decompress. I have a coffee, even if it’s my second for the day and it’s 6pm. No it doesn’t keep me awake, no, don’t argue, it really doesn’t. I have some Italian blood after all.

Italian blood

Then, I get ahead of my “Brain Training” or what I consider my brain training. (you an ask me in other forums, I really can’t mention in my blog). Then I watch a few shows I feel keep me in touch with the real world.

Brain Training

But I digress. The evening is filled with hours of TV and some social media stuff and emails, let alone the admin/case notes I do every day, so if needed I can be billed correctly, I message friends so I can keep in touch with people I love.

I Digress

At some point I realise, should I eat dinner? Yes! It’s probably as late as 11pm.

You see the slippery slope to hell now? I prepare something tasty, lazy, but healthy and I get back to admin and emails. I like to have a cuppa T (yes cup of tea) and a brain numbing horror or two of TV to help wind down and switch off

Late night dinner

Before I know it, it’s 2am.

I’m working on it, I swear…

Working on it

Super Powers

Published November 30, 2018 by helentastic67

Super Powers

Have you ever considered what Super Power you would have or what if you could have one? Yes, yes, all men – x-ray vision. You dirty little purves…

Xray Vision

Women are much more subtle………. Maybe?

I have wanted for some time now for my super power to be a “Slap of Wisdom”. OK, might need to work on the title however, while I’m not suggesting to know all there is to know in the The Universe.

Slap of power

However, in the same sense as the character Gibbs in the first, I don’t know 20 (exaggeration) seasons of NCIS would smack DiNozzo up the back side of the head (I miss those days). I would like to be able to simply slap people up the back of the head and then in just a second they would be like “Oh yeah, I totally get it now”.

Gibbs slap

Not to be confused with outright violence, that’s never excusable. However, I think my super power has become my uncanny ability to be blunt.

Being blunt

I lose my filter at times generally after simply polite reasoning gets me nowhere.

No filters

Seriously, I haven’t got all fucking day.

No, what would your super power be if you could choose one?

Whats your superpower 1

White Goods

Published November 26, 2018 by helentastic67

White Goods 1

White Goods

Now, I am completely aware that this post may come across as first world problems, but I want you to hear me out.

First World Problem 1

A month ago, (remember that, it’s vital to this story) I bought a brand-new front loader washing machine. All by myself. Even at my age, I will tell you, you don’t do it very often (that is to say ‘buy-a new White good).

White Goods

My last white goods purchase I shared the expense with a boyfriend and when he left, I told him I had to buy him out (of his share) and he told me, I could just keep it. He also left me his fridge, telling you not only do the end of relationships come down to ‘who gets the white goods’ but also how guilty he must have felt. Yes, he should feel very guilty (Another day) and so you don’t think I’m super wealthy, I didn’t have a sudden influx of excess cash, I actually had to replace my top loader washing machine, because it was a bit rubbish (having been donated to me about three years ago, by a not for profit) that was leaking, but also because living in an apartment now, means less indoor space for putting up drying racks, no clothes line (but again racks on the balcony) but lastly, I will now need to use a dryer at some point and it will need to sit ON TOP OF THE FRONT LOADER WASHING MACHINE.

Relationship breakup

I will definitely be struggling to breathe for the next few months, while I survive on 2-minute noddles and food from my freezer.

Freezer

As per usual, I digress.

Anyway, it took a few weeks to notice, however the machine has had a leak under the front. I had a little touchy-feely of the tap at the wall, a little damp. So, I call the retailer, who from new onwards will be called ‘Retailer’. The woman who answers, suggests I call the company that made it (let’s call them WASHER). While on hold and going through the oral system so the person who answers knows which washer I’m calling about. I get an ‘outgoing’ message informing me the washer is at the responsibility of the Retailer since 2014.

Slight leak

A person answers reiterating the above point, but using the term that the Retailer “OWNS” the machine (WASHER). Are you getting that I’ve so far paid a great deal of money to rent a brand-new washing machine, that no one wants to own responsibility for a leak, even another number for the Retailer. So I rang again, this time a lovely gentleman told me he would refer me to a local repairer (yes, furthermore known as a ….. no wait….. Fixer) Got this? Retailer/Washer/Fixer.

Fixer

I was asked if I had paid for a Premium Install? A what? Oh yeah, there was once a time (I’m in that sweet spot where I’m old enough to recall an era of Customer Service and young enough to care to tell people when they are not doing a good job in a polite but constructive way)

Customer Service

I was informed, I would hear from the ‘fixer’ within 24 – 48-hour deadline to update me. And if the ‘fixer’ needed to get parts they would order those before contacting me.

Waiting for call

I was contacted by the ‘Retailer’ within the 48-hour deadline to update me. Remember those days when you pay for delivery and would just hook it all up because they were nice and you weren’t lugged with a price tag on ‘nice?

Call me crazy, but it’s been a week and I’m very concerned if ‘parts’ need replacing after only a month, why can’t they take the brand new (a month old) front loader away and give me another?

Product exchange

You know that’s rhetorical, so don’t answer that.

Efficient

Published November 23, 2018 by helentastic67

Efficient

In many ways’ life had prepared me to ready and deal with Life One-Handed. There were subtle signs when I was about sixteen and on nightly coffee/tea duty for the family. I couldn’t carry two mugs at once without spilling the left one. I didn’t have to carry it for 6-7 metres from the kitchen to the lounge, but spill it, I did.

Spilled coffee

Mum would watch me coming and say “Drop you left shoulder” had nothing to do with it really, but life went on. But there were those signs that screamed DO NOT WORK IN HOSPITALITY and occasionally, at work (I was a checkout chick at the Super Cheap Supermarket, so cheap they no longer exist) they put me on the left-handed checkout. No idea why, but there you go.

Left Handed

But until my diagnosis, when I was thirty-four, everything I did kinda moulded me to be very efficient with my time and energy.

These days, I leave the house just in time for lunch (by normal people standards) and I’ve made calls, done internet banking and gotten it “ALL” together.

Normal People lunch

Wednesday’s are a perfect example. I scooter to my last appointment, which is local to home (weather permitting), walk a small block to rendezvous with Young John. (I negotiate with him over breakfast exactly what time he can squeeze me in)

Young John taxi

On the way, I dropped a doona into the dry cleaners to be pressed ($6.00) Young John scoops me up and drops me down to Clifton Hill.

Today, I had to start at the Post Office to pay a few bills, I crossed to my favourite lunch location. Note; I do not mention it by name. Yeah, that’s on purpose. I have a few Melbourne followers these days and it’s sometimes hard enough to get a table and I do love the way they greet me by name when I arrive and when I depart. I mean, that’s what you get by being a regular. Right! Anyway, I take photos of lunch finalise my Wednesday lunch post and email to Noelle.

Favourite Cafe

Generally, I inhale lunch and my medicine (Latte) and maybe write a post.

Off I hobble to my chiropractor and if I’m early I will make a few calls, cull some emails, reach out to some friends as part of my “Good Mental Health Day” regime.

Good Mental Health Day

I see my chiro, then bolt for the tram, often texting whatever on the way. I arrive at acupuncturist get stabbed, eight times, have a little kip (that a bit British for a nap) then scooter home. Often stopping at a few local suppliers on the way.

Little Nap

Check the letter box, without getting off my scooter and picking up an empty box from the supermarket for recycling. (I’m a bit green, you see) The box also comes in handy to get things upstairs from the scooter shed to my apartment. I’ve even worked out a way to (once in the lift) put the box on top of the hand rail, put my leg against it so it won’t fall, using my ONE GOOD HAND, swipe my card and push the button.

Scooter

Once out of the lift and at my apartment door, I use the same technique to hold the box against the wall while I open the door. Putting whatever I’m carrying on the floor can be very stressful on my lower back and that’s the last thing I need.

So, efficiency is the key.

Efficiency is the Key

Confession

Published November 19, 2018 by helentastic67

Confession

Now, this may come as a bit of a surprise and I realise I’ve yet to do the ‘everyday person’s’ explanation of the difference between TBI/ABI/MY ABI/AVM so presuming I can keep it short and sweet (when have I ever).

Difference

AVM

I’m lucky I’ve not had trauma to my brain, I’ve not been cut into (not my brain anyway). This has allowed me the ability to retain a great many things. Memories from before breakfast today, my greater independence financially and my ability to plan and execute. All to which helps me stay independently living by myself. Kapish (I think that is Italian for ‘understand’)

Kapish

However, I think all of the above might work against me sometimes, when dealing with (is there a polite word for this? Anyone?)

INCOMPETENCE

Incompetence

Sweet Jesus!

No really, this week I’ve been asked at a train station if I was staff, and a staff member in uniform had just been talking to me and then this incompetent woman came up to me claiming to be doing a ‘survey’. FARK

Incompetance

What? I’ve gotta do your job too now?

I didn’t get enough sleep last night and by the time I left my chiropractor, my left eye was hurting (that’s my version of a migraine these days, hurts like hell, but allows me to keep getting around to do all my “things”) WHERE ARE MY DRUGS? I left asking the receptionist who was on over the weekend. Most good chiro’s if they don’t fix the problem in that visit and you still have symptoms the following day, they will see you again ‘free of charge.’

Where are my drugs

I was told the two girls (who own the practice) are away for Easter. I enquired who was covering? The Associate? The Associate, is a lovely younger guy I can bond with over “The Walking Dead” and GOT (Game of Thrones) Her reply – “Oh, I don’t know, I haven’t asked him yet.

Receptionist

Do I have to do everything?

Do I have to do everything

Good Deeds

Published November 16, 2018 by helentastic67

Good Deed

Good Deeds

I did a good deed today and I felt good about it. That’s not why I did it. But, it’s all the little good things in life and the everyday that helps the upside of life with depression. We always need to remember or be reminded to really enjoy the good moments.

I did a good deed

So, my good deed, I hear you ask?

I went into the city today, ironically, I was going to the ‘late’ AGM of the Self Advocacy group I am somewhat part of. Will have a migraine by the end of the day worse than I have at the start of the day, but I digress.

AGM

I cut through Degraves Street to Flinders Lane and arrived early at my destination. When I returned later only one of the two homeless guys remained. I had returned to Degraves Street to get some lunch, knowing I needed ‘something’ but not wanting anything huge.

Degraves St Melbourne

I bought a toasted ham, cheese and tomato sandwich and decided to give half to the homeless guy with his dog. I briefly considered asking him if he was a vegetarian or would be ok to eat ham?

Homeless guy and dog 1

There is a story Debra Lee Furness told on a TV interview once about giving a homeless guy in New York a BBQ chicken once, that she gave it to him, he told her he was vegetarian. (Apparently being homeless doesn’t change that) Debra Lee Furness (hey, she married Hugh Jackman) stated the BBQ chook had been organic and very expensive.

Deborra Lee Furness

Me on the other hand, my generosity more in line with my financial standing. At the café, I put in my order and asked if they could cut it into quarters and wrap half in a bag and the other half in another bag. They looked at my strangely.

I explained my intention and the wait staff told me it depended how busy the cook was. But luckily, he made it happen. I received my keep cup (of my medicine) and the two bags (half put in my bag) and hobbled over to the man with his dog. There was a small plastic container on the ground of water for the dog. I asked him if I could give him the sandwich. I told him it had ham, cheese and tomato in it and that I had been concerned he might not eat meat.

Toasted HCT

He didn’t eat tomato, but he said he was happy to pick it out.

I had to smile.

The dog of course then started to bark. I don’t know who was going to get to eat the sandwich and it doesn’t matter.

Homeless guy and dog

But, sometimes a good deed, a kind word can mean as much to the giver as the receiver and there is always someone with less than we have, yet more problems.

Good Deed Kind Words

The Other Hideous Thing

Published November 12, 2018 by helentastic67

The other hideous thing

The Other Hideous Thing

So, today I’m following through on a promise from my early Hellonwheels days. I mentioned way back then about there having been two hideous tests or procedures I’ve had, that I did not particularly like. You may recall, my post about the Cerebral angiogram. It was the one I likened to being punched in the head from the inside.

https://hellonwheelslifeonehanded.wordpress.com/2016/12/09/worst-test-ever/

This is the “other” thing I’ve had and ironically, I’ve had this thing twice also.

However, I need to premise this by mentioning the back story. I will attempt to keep it brief. No promises.

Make no promises

After a few years of smashing out Life One Handed after a while, ‘things’ start to breakdown. Wish someone had told me to prepare for that.

Now, this describes a time frame from literally the 6^th January 2011, to the 11^th November in the same year. Early January, I lifted a heavy suitcase of my tech toys (laptop, hard drives etc) from the floor to my bed, to more easily unpack it. My lower back did not particularly like it. But it was a process of why-questions.

Why do I always feel I need to pee? (not really)

Why does it hurt to sit down for more than three minutes?

And many, many others.

Lower back pain

My GP Dr Chris (he won’t mind) started me on some muscle relaxants. Didn’t help. Then something else (can’t remember) also didn’t help. I was seeing the physio and OT at the time and one of them started massaging the back of my right leg. (my good leg) because that’s where the worst pain was and she was working on that spot until I wanted to slap her.

So needless to say, I was getting test on my good leg. Other random tests and things, I can’t even remember now, and over the course of the year we found the diagnosis after an MRI of my lower back, the answer to all the pain was I had a DISC BULGE in my lower back, at L5 (I think).

Bulging disc

After diagnosis, we worked at the right pain relief (drugs) and right sedentary lifestyle. At the time, I still lived in Clifton Hill on the other side of Hoddle Street.

Clifton Hill is where I spend every Wednesday for lunch and see my chiropractor. I would scooter to my chiro every week and while I went full pelt through the park to get to my appointment, When I got to traffic lights, I had to stand up to give my lower back a stretch. (walking through the park took too long and I always feared I wouldn’t make it home to the toilet.) Yeah, good times.

Fear of not making it to toilet

Anyway, the Happy Place with pain meds for me was Oxy, Oxy, Oxy. (As I call it) Slow release Oxycontin twice a day and when I had to get up off my bed to go anywhere, I would slam some short term, but fast release stuff. Endone 5mg (gives me about thirty minutes) and it’s no silver bullet. 5mg of Oxy norm gives you about three hours and that’s on top of 20mg or 10mg of the Oxycontin. Who knows that happens when you take a shit load of pain meds?

That’s right Constipation!

Constipation

I’m going to imagine my followers don’t require me to explain this displeasure. But my point here is, I don’t understand when people tap out of life taking pain meds, when they just can’t deal with life, when it means they can’t have a good bowel movement.

So, it would seem I have covered the pre-stuff sufficiently.

Now, the horrid thing.

To buy time, the medical system should you be in the public system and once you are ‘pilled’ up to your eyeballs and constipated to hell and back. They still won’t schedule you for surgery until they give you a Nerve root injection. Sounds like something a dentist night give you. But no, my first (yeah, had two of these things also: NOT frigging happy). The procedure goes like this.

Nerve Root Injection

You are wearing underwear and a gown that does up at the back. Isn’t it always the way?

Lying face down, I had been told I would be given an epidural. My sister (the weird grumpy one) Oh, wait that’s both of them.

After the procedure, she suggested I enquire “where’s my baby?”

Wheres my baby

I delivered the joke to a very still silent room. The young and old Jewish doctors didn’t get it. I looked at the only female in the room and she gave me a weak smile. “Tough crowd”

So, firstly they give you a local in my lower back. Now, it’s been a few years since I’ve had a local anaesthetic, but in between we forgot how much they hurt. They STING. Sweet Jesus! I’m told it’s because the need is so fine. So, after the local and long enough for that to kick in. The younger Jewish doctor tells me ‘You will just feel some scratching’. Well, that turns out to be a lie.

Local Aneasthtic

He rammed the next needle into my lower back. Now, anyone dealing with pain, the best advice is to battle through it. But, I couldn’t. I was told to keep perfectly still while they tortured me.

But, wait there’s more.

They pushed the table I was on into the CT machine and moved behind me to do a scan. He left the room for a moment to check the scan with the older doctor, then returned saying the words “We’ve definitely heading in the right direction” a little to chipper about it, I thought as the local had done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Then telling me to be still, he drove the needle in further.

New Root Injection 1

Then another CT scan and another pointless comment about scratching, which I feel I’ve already covered was the worst understatement ever. Then ramming of the needle again before being injected with the ‘Steroid’. (I forgot).

After the torture was over, I was told I could get up and I asked what next? “Oh. you can just go.”

What?

My mum came into help me dress and I sat with her for five minutes, to gather my thoughts.

I was just happy I had not sworn, but seriously – FUK, FUK, FUK, FUK. Not enough of those in the world that day.

Fuk Fuk Fuk

Overall, considering the pain and torture and the promise of pain relief, it was under delivered. No pain relief and despite being my hospital that had done my radiation treatment. No Surgery.

Next I was booked to have one at another hospital that was closer to home and my side of town. Again, despite knowing what to expect. Didn’t like it any more than the first.

Amusingly after the second Nerve root test (injection) they insisted I stay lying down in recovery for an hour. Lying down! After my first injection at another hospital, they basically told me to get out. (politer than that, but still). After ramming a needle into my back while I was conscious and while not on any Oxycontin. Plus I had to pee.. Was not happy.

Need to pee

Ladies, you know the routine? Well, I was offered a bed pan. They then offed me a bedpan in a chair in the corner. “oh, well close the curtains”

Just “HELL NO!”

Hell no

They then offered me a walker, to get to the toilet. I don’t know what part of me told them we had time to debate this. I really had to go. Just pee, but still.

They did not have any idea why I rudely insisted they get the walker away from me. They insisted. I know now rude I seemed but I’m one-handed. How was I going to use that walker?

They finally bought me a wheelchair and took me to the toilet.

All of this under the watchful eye of my mother.

Watchful eye

NB – Did I mention I was offered a third one of these? Yeah, same place as the first one.

I was given a student, and she seemed to hear me, but went and got the senior dude on that day. (He did not listen so he doesn’t get qualification acknowledgement as he wanted someone with way less experience to get to stab me in my back!) He came in and said “Oh, I think we’ll start with a nerve root injection?”

And I think they just didn’t prioritise me for surgery because I refused to let them keep practicing on me.

no-back-surgery

Not Robin

Published November 9, 2018 by helentastic67

Not Robin

Later that day, the young ‘child’ it’s an affectionate term for my young carer who loves the reward stickers for the schools from the supermarket. (It’s a kiddy commodity to get the school certain rewards, usually sports equipment etc)

Reward stickers 1

As we are driving, our conversation sometimes goes like this –

“So, she bought tickets for her mum (who sounds like my age) to go see a concert on Sunday night. Oh? Who are you going to see? Robin Williams. No, I shake my head. It can’t be him. Try again. Oh, he has a? It’s definitely Williams. Oh, was he in Take That? (my bad, she wasn’t born then) Is it Robbie Williams? Yeah! I think it’s that.

Robbie Williams

Oh, sweetheart, she’s going to see Robbie Williams, I mean he’s ok, not my cuppa tea, but good on her. I imagine she’s going to be very embarrassed by her mum reliving her youth.

Robbie Williams 1

Can’t wait to see my young carer on Friday to ask her how it went.

Friday

Rehab – Part 6

Published November 5, 2018 by helentastic67

Rehab Part 6

Rehab Part – 6

I have carers, as you know who take me shopping and even my morning carer that helps me get ready after my shower, to face the day, they all become my friends. It’s inevitable, the ones I can’t crack are usually very reserved, on account of them not planning to put down roots and those don’t plan to stay in the job long term, choosing to move onto other things.

Carer morning routine