Help

Published May 11, 2018 by helentastic67

Help

A simple guide for when around people with eyesight problems (ie, they are partially blind).

Partially blind

DO NOT SPEAK LOUDER. (We are not deaf) or stupid, which you seem to be if you can’t tell the difference.

Don't shout

Giving directions by pointing and using words like “over there”

That does not fucking help!

No. 1 I might not be looking at you.

No. 2 I might not be able to see where you are pointing…

Give directions

Happens to the best of us, my own family do this to me. I once followed a woman who was leading the “vision impaired” around the back entrance. The other vision impaired person had a guide dog, I hung back to follow because I can see ‘something’ whereas the guy was completely blind.

The woman waved a hand in a direction and yes, you guessed it said ‘over here’.

Over there

How to direct someone who’s visually impaired is to use ‘Verbal Cues.’ OK, were now veering slightly right, your one o’clock. There are about ten steps, one metre apart with a small single brick step up each time. The Entrance is fifteen metres away.

Verbal cues

Ready?

Step!

One Word

Published May 7, 2018 by helentastic67

One Word 2

One Word

You know those things in life, I’ve managed to excel at and what I consider winning at life skills and yesterday I shared a piece of my Helen’s wisdom with my Case Manager over our lunch meeting and he managed to trump me with just one word.

One Word 1

It’s with his permission I share this story with you.

When I moved to my home four years ago, I had plenty (too many) of door-knockers, you know the ones, bible bashers, God bothers and since watching a show a few years back called “The Heart of Dixie” I’ve based how I deal with these situations, based on this particularly great, but grumpy character. In short, the character is the Mayor, he’s a retired sportsman of African American background and he’s seen as a tall black drink of water, so it’s very funny when he greets everyone with a strong and grumpy ‘No’ and he just repeats it. Until whoever is asking something of him, goes away.

Hart of Dixie

So, on a Saturday I’ll open the door in my PJ’s and encounter a sweet young Asian girl or two well dressed, clean faced boys (sorry men) and before they get a word out I start with the “NO!”

Answer door in pj

If the brochure in the hand comes out or they open their mouths, I just repeat “NO, NO, NO, NO!” you get the idea. A good head shake never goes away. Then I step it up by closing the door. Sometimes I’m peeking around the door with “NO, NO, NO” and the head shakes to see if they are still there. Why are they still there? Then I slam the door.

No no no

I must say, I thought I was nailing it, I really did until I met with my Case Manager yesterday and somehow this topic came up, he told me what he does in a word, trumped me. He opens the door, says one word and then slams it!

Ready?

Wondering what the word is?

“GAY!”

Gay

OMG! They win again, I could lie, I guess, but I just thought it was way too good.

Today I re-countered this story to my carer while she thought about it, I suggested I didn’t know if all religions had the same opinion about Gay and Lesbians and told her I didn’t care enough to research it.

Religion

But, I think sometimes life with a disability can be pretty depressing and sometimes it’s these amusing moments that we should share to make it all worthwhile.

Feel free to use either of these methods to dissuade annoying people from pestering you at home.

You’re Welcome.

You're Welcome

Quality

Published May 4, 2018 by helentastic67

Quality

Why is it control freaks have such a bad rep? I mean, I utilise many methods of Quality Control with my carers and family.

Control Freak

There are good and bad things about outsourcing your chores around the house and by saying that I’m talking about things I can’t do myself or they leave me exhausted and still trying to get through my admin/emails at 1am which is ridiculous.

Quality Control

I can only spend so much time watching how someone does something or I might as well do it myself. So, I’ve found ways to do quality control.

I ask my carers to wash dishes, but not dry them.

Doing dishes

There are several reasons for this;

I don’t see the point in drying dishes when they can be left to dry by themselves and I put them away later.
It leaves more time for them to something else.
If they dry the dishes they will stack them on the bench, I have limited bench space, so before I an even make my breakfast, I have to put them away. Or the carers will put them away. * I often can’t find things so I have to think where my carers would have put them.
And likely the most important; I can check that things are actually clean! Because sometimes, they are worse than if I tried to wash them one-handed.

Today a carer containerized up some cat food from the supermarket, I gave her the containers and a small plastic crate to carry them all around to the fridge in one trip. When asked where they were, so I could put them in the freezer, she said she had put them in there already and some hours later when looking for the plastic crate to relocate my “Lunch making” things from the fridge to the kitchen in one convenient trip, I discovered she had put the crate in the freezer with the containers in it.

Cat food

A complete waste of space in my fridge/freezer, as the smaller crate in the freezer, allows me to fit in plenty of other things if stacked correctly.

All in the freezer

I had to drag out the larger crate and I discovered the containers had leaked and giving me another job to clean the inside of my freezer.

Cleaning Freezer

None of the containers had even been sealed properly.

Fighting the Big Fight

Published April 30, 2018 by helentastic67

Fighting the Big Fight

You know those days you think “Wah” (like a baby) why do I have to be the one to stand up for when people are idiots? And if you don’t do something to make a change, they will keep being ‘idiots’. I had that moment as I often do a few days ago.

Now, by all means we all do it, sure, but then there are times it can be beyond painful.

Then there was yesterday.

I do like to upsize my meeting with my CM (Case Manager) to be help at my favourite café (Where I also go on a Wednesday) and then I wandered down to my GP appointment, so far, so good. Left the GP’s clinic and walked a short distance to the tram stop. I would normally walk to the next stop near the café so I get a little exercise.

Now the weather report. It’s a lovely day in Melbourne, it’s summer, there is blue sky and it’s not hot and muggy. T-shirt weather, everything is right in the world.

I was waiting for about four minutes for the tram, I could just hope the tram would be a flat-bed tram (Disability friendly) so I wouldn’t have to work so hard to pull myself up and get a seat. Then along came a woman, she literally huffed within a minute and she complained about the lack of trams. I told her they shouldn’t be far as I’d already been waiting a few minutes. I don’t normally check the timetable.

I decided to check the timetable myself out of curiosity. It was just before 5pm so trams run everything eight minutes. After 5pm, every six minutes. Not bad right?

A young lady came just as that time and checked the timetable and had her head in her smart phone. Then announced it’s twenty minutes until the next tram, but then there’s three of them.

Negative Nancy and her sore legs.

I asked the younger woman how she knew this? She mentioned some Apps on her phone. I felt so old. I have a smart phone, but it’s under utilised and I refuse to put Facebook or my blog email on it, because the excuse I use is that I’m not 14…

I have my personal email on my phone for convenience, but mostly so I can cull the rubbish and anything of value waits until the end of the day.

Anyway, I digress Ms Apps (not a negative term) mentioned there had been a medical emergency on the tram, hence the hold up.

Negative Nancy: “Oh those people on drugs! I just want to get home!”.

Seriously? Was there a Zombie Apocalypse I didn’t know about? I tried to level the situation by saying “You know, if someone is sick or ill or had a heart attack on Public Transport, they are legally bound to get them an Ambulance. If no one dies, it’s okay!”

Negative Nancy (you know she had something to say about that) “How long does it take to get an Ambulance?”

Don’t know if you’ve had to get an Ambulance, but I have and I wasn’t dying nor did I think I was dying and I was cosy in bed waiting, so it was no drama. It takes as long as it takes.

Again, I suggested whatever the commuters need, they would be triaged with everybody else.

Ms Apps stated she would walk to the next stop, it’s normally what I do and I nearly went with her, rather than submit myself to anymore shitty energy from Negative Nancy.

About a minute later a tram came around the corner down the hill. So, I decided our time together now had a deadline and decided she needed to be told. So, politely I started:

“I know you have maybe had a tough day and your legs hurt”

She attempted to cut me off thinking I would pander to her delicate temperament, but I did not let her.

“Yes, Yes, I know! But what you don’t realise is that right now, I can’t feel my left foot and most of my left leg.”

I started to also indicate a part of my left side and back I used to lift my left leg and despite my

“I have low vision badge,” she didn’t notice. I told her I had half my eyesight. Her demeanour changed instantly and she stated.

“I’m so sorry! Had I known I wouldn’t have.” and she told me I looked ‘Great’ and good.

Hidden disability is a curse isn’t it?

She really hadn’t had her eyes or paid any attention to my cuff and collar on my arm or my walking stick.

The tram arrived and she eventually stepped aside to allow me to get on first to get an appropriate seat for me to not fall over getting on or off.

Two people got up to offer me their seats and I took one of them up on the offer, very much appreciated.

Negative Nancy took a seat to my left in my blind spot simpering like she deserved the seat.

She started to try to make conversation with me but I was really over it, so pulled out my phone. Conversing with her on my left would have given me a migraine and if you think that meant the trauma was over, think again.

On my right was a guy on the phone, he was talking to a work colleague who was using drugs and driving around with his kids in the car.

Um, does anyone else want to hear about this shit on the tram? Unless it’s broken up with words suggesting they are going to get him help? No!

But instead, he punctuated every sentence with the biggest sniff and hark back, it was disgusting.

Luckily for him, he got off about five stops before me, otherwise I could imagine I would have silently help out with a packet traveler tissues and if he had been offended and told me he was not a child. I would have growled at him. I’m too young to be his mother. But here we are.

Gloves 4 Love

Published April 27, 2018 by helentastic67

Gloves

Gloves 4 Love

Today, some weeks after attempting a process of buying gloves for both my carers and myself with some of the NDIS funding I have been allocated, I was discussing with the woman over the phone whether to commit to buying boxes or cartons. Um? How many in a box? How many boxes to a carton?

Gloves 4 Love

I’m likely moving in the next few months, so I explained if I have a Costco size store of rubber gloves here my mum will demand – Why the hell did you order so many?

Carton of gloves

So, to avoid unnecessary grumpy, I only ordered three boxes, two for the carers and one for me.

Why do I have to buy them theirs?

But she did laugh when I briefly toyed with getting a bulk supply and moving them on the black market.

Black Market

Is there a black market for latex gloves?

Sometimes it’s the little things, the humour came out to play again.

Funny gloves

One of my favourite things people will say or ask of me when they ask me what happened to me is. “You should see the other guy?”

See the other guy

Sometimes it’s all about where you are, when asked. Today a man asked me this while in the waiting room at the Acupuncturist. I thought for a moment if he was familiar with me and a friend who I used to chat with while waiting to be stabbed.

Look familiar

I decided no, he wasn’t familiar with my friend Damo and responded as he intended and responded “Dead”

But I felt the need to explain my moment of contemplation and explained my friend used to get acupuncture here also, but has since decided he’s done with Acupuncture.

Meet my friend Damo.

Damo and Helen 3

He’s had two strokes! Note: how much better than me he looks.

Boil

Published April 23, 2018 by helentastic67

Boil

Heard some BS last week, that made my blood boil. So, I guess you should realise initially it was about Public Houses, seriously can’t wait until housing is no longer an issue for me. Can someone tell me when that will be? I’ll put it in my diary.

Blod boil

What’s that? Previously mentioned, I can’t afford to live past 65 years old, so I guess when I get put in the ground, I’m getting cremated, so forget about it.

Cant afford to live

After a brief interlude back to my issue at hand. Heard a story last week about a family who came to Australia way back when, they were given Public Housing in Fitzroy and when the parents made their ‘millions’ (this is how it was quoted to me) they moved out to the suburbs and left their kids behind in the housing provided for them by the government, all so the kids could easily commute to University.

Public housing

Um? Did I mention I left home at 19 years old, so I could go to College? Because home was 3.5 klms away in the country. Perhaps I should have applied for Public Housing as I didn’t get rent assistance back then and I studied full time and had a casual job after College and at Christmas time I’d transfer my casual job back home, just so I could pick up the seasonal work on a Blueberry farm. Also, I would get up at 5am to get ready to travel thirty minutes to start work at 6am, work until 4pm get home in time to shower, inhale some food and to my ‘other’ job by 5pm until 9pm.

Working

Some Christmas break, right?

So, yeah, I really don’t want to be in some high-rise in Fitzroy. I also don’t want to be in a constant state of hyperventilation either. I just can’t breathe.

High rise living

1/111

Published April 20, 2018 by helentastic67

111 Mansfield St

1/111

Oh, that was pretty terse right? Just wondering as I’m contemplating having to move again after four years at 1/111, I know, seriously. When I moved here it was obviously destined that my life should be all about me. Living by myself.

Living Alone

Not prioritising anything of myself or my money to another, but not my point today. If I move, how long do I need to wait before I start blasting out my tunes at a level to piss off my neighbours?

Loud Music

I mean, I have the doors and windows open as I love fresh air and music always makes me happy and motivates me and it’s probably not great that my neighbours have a baby, but they deserve no remorse as they think it’s acceptable to use their washer and dryer overnight and when it’s 40 degrees outside and they have the mistaken belief that they are hippies. WFT!

Hippies

But seriously, I don’t play my music loud enough to tear paint off the walls, but I generally play some loud music within a week of moving, so my new neighbours aren’t lulled into a false sense of security.

Fasle sense of security

When I moved here, I heard some KLF from the back unit, only the once, sadly but still they didn’t play any Bitchy Sneers! (you heard me) or Mariah Carey, so we were all good. They had a DJ Club set up though so, it was any wonder after I moved in. They are not music people so I told them I would ‘TRY HARDER’.

Oh, what’s that you wanted to know, what I’m listening to? OK, you may not recognise any of these but, a little VNV Nation, Covenent, Apoptygma Beserk and some The Knife. Oh, don’t forget Nine Inch Nails and some Assemblage 23.

Assemblage 23

Oh, lastly whoever took my Apoptygma Beserk T-shirt with ¾ length sleeves with the red body and black sleeves, I WANT IT BACK.

Apoptygma Berserk

You know who you are!

You know

Racism

Published April 16, 2018 by helentastic67

Racism 1

Racism

Years ago, I worked in a Northern Suburb called Preston, back then it was a few years after 9-11. I like to visit Preston, the market, shops etc. But I don’t really want to live there and I worked there for about four years.

PrestonMarket 01

On a Friday after work, I was on the train heading home, the train carriage was not very full and I was tired after a typical busy week. There were the standard array of passengers heading home from work, maybe heading to the Friday night football or to meet up with friends for drinks or had started drinks already.

Crowded train

In front of me, sitting opposite me was a young woman shrouded completely in black, she was wearing a Burka, by some referred to as the “Letter Box” where you can only see their eyes.

Burka

I know ‘wrong’ again, but I didn’t make it up and by putting it in context, image you will appreciate me using it just this once. So off we went to the city. A young man (note no use of words like ‘Gentleman’) stood and started to verbally abuse the young Muslim woman. I don’t recall what he was saying exactly, but it was repulsive. He was suggesting she take off her Burka and hated words in Australia, that she go back where she came from.

Angry young man

Oh, so I did recall. Bit hard to forget.

The young woman shrank into her seat, nervous eyes darting around the train carriage. I moved my bag from the seat beside me to my lap and I patted the now spare seat and invited her to move over next to me.

I gently touched her leg with the back of the hand and told her the best thing to do was to face him. She didn’t want to, so she kept her back to him and I told her to not react to him. Although, it’s not what I did admittedly.

Speak up

First, I simply tried to educate and reason with him. I asked him where his parents had come from because he looked like he was more Italian than I am. I told him my father was from Italy, but I’d been born and raised here.

Educate

I attempted to enlighten him that every new culture that came to Australia, enriched us with their foods and styles. Now, you know, he argued and debated back with me and maybe I had not expected that, but the temperature in the train carriage changed and I had really had enough anyway. He was beyond my help. A guy was sitting facing me on the other side of the isle. He wore black slacks and a white shirt. He looked to be a Security guard, but slim build, presumably off to work in the city. His left hand dropped down to his side, dangling into the isle. His fingers twitched in a shaking negative motion. Without looking at him, I inclined my head a little and blinked my eyes, I just subtly let him know I understood. I confess to say when I ‘growl’ people learn not to mess with me.

Taking control

So, I growled!

“Enough” I told him. I told him to sit down, he immediately made a move to sit opposite me in the seat the woman had vacated. Seeing this was his plan, I growled again, ‘NO’ and pointing sternly, I told him to “Sit there” and indicated the seat he had been in earlier and so there was no doubt, I told him to face the other way. We did not need him facing us.

I think there was a moment where the whole of the occupants of that carriage shared a ‘sigh’ and I’m sure we were all relieved, we all think shit like this happens elsewhere.

I don’t know if I hadn’t spoken up, if someone else would have, I want to imagine ‘Yes’, but you never know until you are in that situation.

Another moment went by and we were closer to my home suburb and still a few suburbs from the city. Most smaller stations are unmanned day and night. I wondered what would happen to my passenger, when I got off and hoped that she would still be safe. I politely asked her if she was going to the city and did she have friends to meet her?

She said yes to both queries. I suggested she text her friends to meet her on the platform. The whole time she has spoken to me, it was a soft voice that only I could hear. She was polite, calm and neatly presented. She didn’t have an unpleasant odour, I hope you hear me when I’ve expressed my opinions about Muslims and Terrorists and none of this should impress or surprise people, however my part is.

Despite my disability and what others would perceive as a weakness, in a similar situation I would not be intimidated or fail to come to the aid of someone if I felt they were being unfairly persecuted and I would like to hope others would come to my aid if I needed it.

Not intimidated

Then that leads me to the end of my topic, for now about my exposure to Muslims and Terrorists.

Wrong (A popular topic)

Published April 13, 2018 by helentastic67

Wrong

Wrong (a popular topic)

I have a new young Muslim carer, she is a sweet young thing, all of 21 years old. But the point is, I shared this next post with her verbally and suggested it might translate as Racist and offend people. She laughed and her whole face was animated. So, if you bear with me, or think by the end of this post you think I’m more than a bit ‘wrong’ hang in there for the next post. It will more than make up for it.

Offending people

Some years ago, the ladies in my family (mum, older sister and myself) visited my younger sister in Wagga Wagga in NSW, for her graduation and end of year exhibition.

Now, unbeknownst to some people, even in Australia, different states have different road rules. In particular NSW has different rules than Victoria in regards to pedestrian crossings etc. The day after the event in Wagga Wagga, we gathered to go for lunch. A nice foody place in the main street in Wagga Wagga.

Road Rules

Mum and older sister J were chattering behind me as I strode ahead. I come to a pedestrian crossing (thick white lines), across a busy narrow street. I don’t know if the traffic would stop for me or I should wait. I sent a polite enquiry over my shoulder to my mum and J. J called back and said “it’s OK, we’ll be like the husband’s who said their Muslim wives out to walk in front to collect all the landmines.

Landmine

Yes, it’s a bit wrong, probably more than a bit. But it was still a funny/gasp moment. And to be completely clear, I kept walking throwing the comment over my shoulder that the joke was on her as “no one has enough insurance to hit someone with a disability”. The only other Muslim woman I’ve shared this story with went deathly quiet and the other woman who was with us that day is a lady more at home in New York than in Melbourne.

Crossing road

So, hope you stuck with me here and the next post will be all the more sweeter.

Stick with me

Muslims

Published April 10, 2018 by helentastic67

Sorry I’m late…

Muslims

Here is my very simple rant on the topic of both Muslims and Terrorists and to follow a few witty stories.

It’s very simple, so I figure (and keeping in mind) I was raised a Catholic. Anglican mum, Catholic dad.

Muslims and Terrorists.
Muslims are Muslims,
Terrorists are Terrorists,
and I don’t like to presume one automatically means the other.

Muslims vs Terrorists

To be fair, I have one Muslim friend and we were friends while we did a course together, for a year or so, then life moves on and her life got busy and now we are only Facebook friends. When she hears my witty comments on her posts she tells me, she misses me.

Muslim friends

But here’s the funny part.

One day we were driving to another friend to meet for afternoon tea and I asked what her hair looks like? (she wears a scarf only), so her hair has never been visible, we did a deal.

Wearing a scarf

At the afternoon tea location, she would remove her scarf, if I would take out my hair. It’s become the norm to just wear a bun. Mostly since I was sixteen, with the exception of when I had NO HAIR.

Helens bun

The deal was struck.

Two things came out of this, as far as I could tell.

When people don’t see your hair you really don’t care what condition it’s in and I suspect you can’t pamper yourself by going to a hairdresser to get it done. (I get mine done once a year and I’m overdue by months now) But more amusing.
She told me, if I wore mine out I’d get a ……… wait for it…. A HUSBAND

Hair down