When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 4

Published September 28, 2018 by helentastic67

When disability becomes embarrassing 4

Fred Gets Taught a Lesson

The final day of the conference everyone was tired, but content they had gone, conquered and achieved what they had gone there to do.

End of conference

I came across Fred and in a casual setting he approached me to apologise for the previous night at the dinner and throwing me under the bus in front of everyone.

Fred apologizes

I told him “It’s OK, because I had been about to tell him to go outside and call all his friends and family and loved ones and tell them how much he loved them!” because I was going to kill him.

Im going to kill you

He seemed to sober immediately and to confirm he wouldn’t do it again. I told him it would be OK because I could always claim brain injury to “get off”.

Blame brain injury

I left him with a friendly pat on the side of his arm, but I think he also knew not to do it again. It should be a warning to others.

Dont mess with me

DO NOT MESS WITH HELEN.

Yet to kill anybody, but there’s always the first.

Always a first time

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 3

Published September 24, 2018 by helentastic67

When Disability become Embarrassing 3

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 3

Stacey

The following day, I went looking for a particular speaker and topic at the conference, that others in my group were looking for.

It was something about “sex after ABI” for example. I find the right room and joined some fellow guys I already knew. This won’t be awkward right? Since he had given me his business card, the night before.

Sex after ABI

The guys I knew and I looked around thinking we were in the wrong place because it seemed everybody else in there were “industry-types” service providers, whatever.

Industry Types

Then in came the presenter.

That’s right, Stacey!

She started by recognising there were more industry-types there than she expected. I suspect she had wanted to empower people with ABI’s that sex could still be a natural part of life post ABI.

Sex is natural

Here’s an example:

Stacey2 (not related to Stacey) had, had a stroke. She had her stroke while having sex (a little rumpy, humpy) with her husband.

Stroke during sex

There was a moment of sadness in the room when we heard this. Apparently, the married couple had a very healthy sex life before the stroke.

Healthy Sex Life

So, when in hospital, when she was able to get up and move around, they attempted to have sex in the hospital.

Sex in the hospital

Must put this one on the bucket list.

Bucket List

We were made to understand it was perfectly normal and for them vitally important to be able to continue and maintain a normal sex life for them as part of her rehab and existence.

Sex in Rehab

You might ask how they did this?

Stacey informed us they did it standing in the bathroom with her holding onto the handrails. And success apparently.

Sex in the Bathroom

Now, Stacey 1, asked us a question. She asked us, what happens when we reach climax? (or orgasm). The room was dead silent.

What happens when you orgasm

I piped up,

“What? Your muscles tighten?”

Stacey was impressed and said I was correct. The industry-type people checked me out wondering how I knew.

How do you know

Exactly!

So, I struggled a little and said,

“It’s been a while, but……”

It's been a while

The following day, at the end I walked Stacey out because I had enjoyed spending time with someone ‘normal’ as you do surrounded by numpties all the time. She thanked me for being her “Conference Friend” Sad face…

Sad face

Stay tuned for the lesson I gave Fred.

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 2

Published September 21, 2018 by helentastic67

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing Part 2

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 2

WTF!

And he thrust a microphone into my face and had sweet Jesus! What just happened?

I looked at Stacey and pointed a finger at her saying “I’ll kill you later!”

I'm gonna kill you

I think she already realised her error. Fred would learn later the following day. Sometimes I’m very grateful I think quickly on my feet, quite literally and despite my ABI I have not been slowed down too much.

Quick Wit

Oh, Fred had or myself, I can’t recall, had suggested all those single guys looking for love to stand up.

Looking for love

Are you feeling my pain right now?

I started to speak and address the room. I asked for all the guys with an ABI or anyone not with-in a stones throw of Melbourne to have a seat. I explained I have an ABI and I couldn’t for see two people with brain injuries residing under the same roof successfully as I have proven on more than one occasion and as I would eventually like to see a relationship, I am in the future to be.

Dating

I confess to say; many seats were taken and the room got rather still and quiet again. I finished my ‘forced’ situation by saying “being single and dating with an ABI/disability is not easy.”

Dating isn't easu

I think I thanked everyone for participating in the brief experiment. I handed back the microphone to Fred who looked a little deflated.

Deflated

He announced again, that there were single ladies at our table if anyone wanted to come and introduce themselves. Some did.

Introduce yourselves

And that someone was someone I knew from the ABI GROUP I WENT TO IN Melbourne. Now, he doesn’t live in Melbourne, he walked around the table and delivered all the hot chicks (OK that’s exaggerating) a business card.

Business cards

I looked up at him and growled ‘What are you doing?’ and while a bit older than I, I would not want him dating my mother.

Worst date

So, you might wonder about Stacey? Yeah, she wasn’t single, but the next day.

Stacey

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 1

Published September 17, 2018 by helentastic67

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing

When Disability Becomes Embarrassing – Part 1

There are many times my disability has been embarrassing or humiliating. However, this is one of those occasions where I was standing in front of a large room of people with a microphone shoved into my hand and all I could think was – “FARRRRKKKK” (you will forgive me for that shortly)

Microphone in hand

Then I was thinking, rather swiftly I might add. “What just happened? Who did that? Where did they go? Help! Now what? How do I get myself out of this situation?”

What just happened

Now, to back up a second, I will put this situation into perspective. I was in Bendigo a few years ago at the ABIAW (Again: Acquired Brain Injury Awareness) week event. I had travelled to Bendigo from Melbourne with my mum, who had driven three and half hours to get to Melbourne, so she could carpool others around also from the ABI Group in Melbourne, I was part of.

Carpooling

So, mum was there also and we shared a room in the hotel we all stayed at.

The first day was a long one, lack of sleep and we went to sessions and heard people speak, we mingled, we ate, we collectively drank bad coffee and the first night we gathered at a dinner to mingle and socialize.

Mingle and Socialize

Now, mum and I retired to our room, like many others for a break before we went to the location for the dinner. Needless to say, my mum and I are both on a different page when it comes to tiredness.

Stubborn

I like to be early to be on time. My mum is much more lenient and we are both very stubborn on this.

By the time we arrived, the people we knew there from our group in Melbourne were spread over two big tables and there were NO SPARE SEATS and no one had thought to save us any.

Crowded table

The guy upon entering, suggested we could join another table to make some friends or sit at another empty table on one side and that table would likely fill up soon enough.

Single Girls Table

I dubbed it the single ‘girls table’. Oh, hell why not?

Here’s where mum and I differ. I was completely okay sitting there out in the bitter lonely cold, but mum wanted to join another table. Soon enough a younger ‘normal’ woman joined us and I enquired if she was single or not.

Matchmaker

Sometimes, I can be such a Nona. Nona’s very prone to want to match you up with someone’s son/nephew, whoever.

She claimed to be single (turns out that was a lie), she soon decided to find secure and encourage us to abandon our single girls table and join another table with conveniently three empty seats. This table was front and centre.

Front Row Seats

I had already had a comment about the man facilitating and Master of Ceremonies. While it wasn’t bordering on sexual harassment, it might have been a bit wrong.

Master of Ceremonies

“Let’s give single girl a name, Stacey and let’s call him Fred. Again, Fred gets such a bashing, doesn’t he? So, Stacey spoke to Fred and as she returned to her seat Fred came up to me and…

Deep Breath 2

Wait… Deep breathe,

Deep Breath

He announced to the room there were single ladies at the front table and were there any men looking?

To be continued

To Be Continued

Roadkill

Published September 14, 2018 by helentastic67

roadkill

Roadkill

OK! While I’m writing this straight after I’ve written my “why I blog post” where I mentioned “Roadkill”. That post jumped the queue and now we have resumed our normal programming.

Back to normal program

To all the single ladies, past, present and future. Roadkill is that term I have for when being single gets monotonous and in order to not being alone or ‘so-alone’ we drop our perceived standards of who is acceptable to date.

Single ladies

I’m not at all suggesting, we only want to date millionaires with boats (sorry yachts) or a castle (it’s never too late) however.

Millionaire

No job, no car, no home, no furniture? (ok that’s a work-around) however.

Our mentality is, we see them by the side of the road with a broken leg or completely flattened and smeared all over the road (Just got ‘dark’ didn’t it?) and the nurturing part of us thinks.

Roadkill 1

“It’s OK, with a little TLC (tender loving care) and a little work, he will scrub up OK.”

TLC

You can help them get a job, get a care, etc…

Eventually, they are fixed enough to take them home to meet your mum. You follow? Yeah No!

Helen does not do Roadkill anymore!

No More Roadkill

Census

Published September 10, 2018 by helentastic67

Census

Sometimes with depression it’s good to appreciate the little things to help us get through life, because we can’t all climb mountains, or save the world or have beautiful children to make us feel like we have achieved greatness.

Achieve Greatness

For me it’s all the little things and that I have a decent memory and can use Hellonwheels to share those stories.

Here’s todays example…..

So, before my diagnosis, I worked in admin, you know that generic term for the wench in the office who does all the stuff no one else wants to do etc.

Office wench

At the time of one particular Census I was an admin wench doing the work of a TPO (Training Placement Office) and living with my fun housemate. B!

Housemate

We decided to sit on the couch to do the Census together, to make it easier.

Here’s the thing, the Census asks lots of repetitive, ridiculous questions and most were harder for me to answer than B.

Census questiions

Job Description. Sure but…..

Describe tasks you do every day? Bam. There you go. That last one, I was very perplexed. My answer went something like this….

Job Description 1

“Answer calls, deal with clients, negotiate and liaise between government agencies, hosts, sponsors, management, email etc.

Job description

B and I looked at each other and we discussed what he should write. We settled on these three words.

“Lifts heavy things.”

Lifts heavy things

Done…

Done

Chronic Pain

Published September 7, 2018 by helentastic67

Chronic Pain

Remember when this

Webstercare Pack

Remember when our grandparents had these and we thought it was a sign of being old?

Grandparents

OK, I’m going to be blunt

WTF happened?

WTF Happened

Since when was 40 old?

40 Years old

Good Times

Published September 3, 2018 by helentastic67

Good Times

So, I’m the first to tell you, my mum and I haven’t always enjoyed our time together which is harsh to say, because she is my biggest, well, most of the time, the only family member to support me. There are times we really don’t hold back in telling each other where to go.

Mum and I

My mum is known to give me her first “whatever” within minutes of arriving and then I inform her exactly how soon she has given me a “whatever”. Mmmmmmm

Whatever

Today, while out in the car. No Young John, as I had my mum taxi. Out on the road, she asked where we were going? Yet she chooses when she wants directions for how to get there. Everything was fine, she insisted if she needed directions, she would ask.

Mum Taxi

Not much later she was driving into a carpark and she fudged it and I said nothing. Until, she insisted I could have “helped her”.

Parking car

So, I started to commentate “I wouldn’t have done it like that!” “Too deep.”

That really was just the surface. “She laughed”

I had previously explained my younger carers that take me shopping, often feel very self-conscious about their driving, so I feel the need to explain I didn’t drive before my disability and there have been moments when I have been sitting in a car in my own driveway diagonal to the street. And I have been wondering “How the fuck did this happen?” But all I could do was take a deep breath and pause.

How the fuck did that happen

We arrived at my chiropractors and I shared this experience with my Chiro, who explained it was hard to drive into carparks (parallel carparks) and I replied. “Mum used to drive into carparks when she drove a Ford Falcon station wagon on Chapel Street!” followed be “Game on wench!”

Parellel Parking

She just looked at me and laughed.

On the road again and mum spies some guy crossing the street, she comments “see that guy with the backpack on?” I looked confused? “You mean that guy with a child on his shoulders?” Oh, so it is!” mmmmmmm

Child on shoulders

Have I mentioned my eyesight? And that I’m not allowed to drive? To be fair, I wouldn’t drive with all my other physical deficiencies. It would just be stupid.

Blind

Helpful

Published August 31, 2018 by helentastic67

Helpful

It’s always odd when I’m thinking to write and cover a particular topic and something really nice or sweet happens, that pushes me over the line to cover a particular topic.

Something nice

I am often faced with people asking me if I need help and if I’m offended when people do because I so rarely take people up on their offer, but would prefer people to offer because I won’t always ask if people don’t think to.

Do you need help

Helen, can I help you get to the toilet?

Helen do you need me to wipe your bum for you?

Wipe your bum

OK, to make a point, one of those (which has never been offered to me) is too much. I hope you can tell which.

People don’t really offer to do much at all for me. Family, friends, anyone, because they assume I’m OK. I mean I’ve dropped my purse in the entrance to a train station and I was going to struggle to pick it up again. The train was pulling into the station and a younger woman hell bent on getting that train just stepped over my purse and I took a moment to compose myself and thankfully someone else stopped to pick it up for me.

Catching train

I missed the train, but seriously, catching the train without my purse was not going to get me far.

Today, while in the city heading to my new Real Estate agent, I had gotten off the tram one stop too far and had further to walk, as I was walking up the street, a guy stopped to ask if I was lost or knew where I was going? I would have managed with some trouble, but I gratefully accepted his assistance.

Are you lost

He quickly did a Google search and told me it was another half a block. He suggested it was another half kilometre and asked if I could make it. I told him I would be fine. He had a bag of bananas and offered me one. It was very nice of him, but I turned him down. But it kinda made my day.

Getting directions

Email Madness

Published August 27, 2018 by helentastic67

Email madness

Email Madness

There are many problems with being part of ABI groups for your social/advocacy/empowering blah de blah, or any disability group maybe.

ABI Groups

I’m really loathe to do the “Reply-all” option on emails. I avoid it at all costs. Because sooner or later one complete fuckwit does “Replay-all” and I get an email saying this – “That’s such a cool font. What is it?”

reply-all-fart