Efficient – Part 2

Published January 10, 2020 by helentastic67

Efficient 2

Now, you might imagine having carers or to use their current tittle “Support Workers” is so easy (said no one ever). But you really should imagine it’s like having “staff” or running a busy café where people come for short shifts and someone else off site manages their comings and goings and they might work for several agencies that give them clients/shifts. Now, I’ve been doing this ‘shit’ for about thirteen years and it’s still not perfect.

I like being very efficient to make my life work best and normally the less times I have to attend to something, the more efficient it is. However, the more times I have to touch something to have it run smoothly the way it should because, it’s the way I asked for it the first fucking time, it’s always getting moved.

Of course, I have an example for you!

My carer should arrive on a Sunday morning at 10am for a ninety-minute shift. My main agency that covers all my PC (Personal Care) morning shifts has a few carers who are prepared to do weekend work, so they have outsourced me to another agency. Now, we know from Japanese whispers, the more people involved in relaying a single message, the results or the goal sets diluted and altered when your shift gets outsourced, it works the same way.

Also, because I’m not in the office rostering, but I’m on the cold-face (receiving service) I know more about the big picture. Also, because I make conversation with the carers, because they are in my home.

This particular Sunday, it was my mum’s 70^th and family were converging from two different directions at my place at 12pm. Are you doing the maths?

They arrive at 10am, leave by 11.30am, I may eat ‘something’ small to get me through to midday lunch. A call to my main agency (let’s call them MH) during the week, told me she would be coming at 11am.

What? NO!

I rang MH and told them it had to be 10am because of XYZ. They rang the agency (let’s call them MC) because I can. They locked it in for 10am. Bingo, right?

Um, don’t be fucking ridiculous. On the morning, I woke early, got back to sleep eventually and kept waking, stressed she would arrive on time.

10am – I woke, no carer, it’s cold, so I stayed in bed to wait. 10.30am, BUZZ. My carer had arrived, late. Yet her roster states 11am.

I am of the understanding she sometimes has a catering order that needs to be filled. It’s rather ad-hoc so not consistent and I know this because people come to my home, so I get to know them.

As I have a brain injury, I often find people underestimate how switched on I am. It’s a misconception all brain injured people must be stupid. We are not and I’m speaking for all people with brain injuries. You’re Welcome.

So, I know when this shit happens, I am fully aware of who did what, who didn’t and who just said they would fix the roster and never intended to and the fact that I know this is all very taxing too.

I’m an overthinker, I think its anxiety and I think part of it is being a high functioning ABI. And the majority is my need to be efficient, because why is it so fucking difficult?

So, every day, there are examples of this where I need to touch on something to get it running smoothly.

Sleep

Published January 6, 2020 by helentastic67

Sleep

There is never enough when you have a brain injury. Never enough. Add, crazy bitch hormones as I call them, the Peri-menopausal hot flushes, sliding into the pause.

More sleep, much, much more sleep.

But, finally following up on my visit to the clinic. Yeah, I’ve been busy and am now circling back to the thing. I had to go to an older building that is on the same block as the St Vincent’s Hospital in Fitzroy. Seen this entrance for years wondering what was in there. Well, now I know.

I went in a little early, off Nicholson Street and was shown to my “room”. Mum had been to a sleep clinic in the country and told me it would be like a self-contained hotel room.

Mine, no it wasn’t. The room had a single bed – expected. An armchair, nice place to put suitcase and sit to take off shoes and AFO’s – check. A small hand basin, oh nice. Where was the bathroom? Apparently, there were only three of us in the inn that night, me and two men and I got the room closest to the ‘Men’s’ bathroom.

Super! Where’s the lady’s bathroom? Oh great, no shoes or AFO’s. I’ve gotta go for a nice long walk to the lady’s bathroom. Past the waiting room, finished with a big vinyl chair in Orange.

Now, I’m a kid of the 70’s, we had an orange car.

And an orange kitchen bench. (Yes, mum! I hear your voice, it was Mandarin) Sue me! I’ll let you be the judge.

The Doctor who was showing me around was the same age as me and we bonded over the orange of our childhoods.

You know those moments you meet people and if you meet them in completely different circumstances, you might become friends.

We bonded over the fact that neither of us live with other people. I bluntly stated “I fucking hate people!” She laughed and said I was her spirit animal.

The Like

Published January 3, 2020 by helentastic67

The Like

Today, I thought I’d write about how I started blogging and the process I use to be a valuable contributing member in the WordPress community.

Now, I have been writing since I was a teenager, nothing worth saying, but writing extremely all the same, but I’ve been posting and blogging consistently since November 2015 and when I began, I trusted Noelle to sort out who to follow. I gather she picked the top 10 bloggers and over the years, a few of my favourites still post with regularity, some have fallen away and a few I unfollowed fairly quickly after I realised their blog was not what I was after.

I mean, I can only deal with so many carefully manicured red nailed fingers smashed into a woman’s well waxed snatch (vagina; not kidding) that I can cope with.

In case you are wondering, my limit for the above was one. One, and done!

Well, I think I also want at the bitching, whinging and moaning ‘he’ was using to complain about how his wife had cheated on him, while he was overseas fighting for his country and maybe, it’s because your wife is bi-polar and you were self-medicating with a S & M lifestyle and when you weren’t there, she looked for another.

Not suggesting any of those things are wrong, just it’s your life and you can choose how you live it. But if it goes sideways, you deal with the consequences.

I have a rule of thumb, if a blog inspires me, I will follow. If I think I can help you in some way to better understand the shit you are dealing with, I will comment. Short and pitchy, in the comments. Because, they wrote the post, it’s not for me to write a blogpost in their comments section.

On a rare occasion, I will email someone for a more in-depth conversation, because I consider that’s the medium for more informative advice.

If someone new likes a blogpost I will go check out their blog, if it interests me, even if they haven’t chosen to follow my blog, I will follow theirs.

Also, I will give them a ‘Like’ to say I’ve visited. I have the rule I don’t follow everyone that chooses to follow me.

I just figure, if you need numbers, it happens organically and it takes time and after a while I check how many followers I have and I’m surprised.

My first blog post, I got followers. I mentioned it to Noelle, my administrator, I was so excited, I went to check out their blog and they had created a profile, but had no contact. Sadly, I’ve never seen them like another post since. But with that first follower, Noelle said the wisest of words ever “Keep writing”.

Now, five hundred posts later, two hundred and forty plus followers later, I’m still chipping away at the past, present end, I’ll get caught up in the end. What I hope for the future.

Groundhog Day

Published December 30, 2019 by helentastic67

Groundhog Day

It fucking happened again. I know I started with my favourite word, but you shouldn’t assume there will be lots in this blog post. I’m just emphasising the fact that it’s like a new round of people are coming into my sphere, (didn’t know I had one like I’m a planet, right) but every now and again, I’m somewhere I wouldn’t normally be and new people will ask me ‘what have you done to your arm?’ Every fucking day, I leave the house and I generally mention it’s because of my brain injury, because it’s the perfect way for people to learn sometimes Brain Injury walks and moves amongst them like a normal person.

Sometimes, brain injury looks like this hot mess that I look like. So, I tell people, depending on their response I might, no will follow it up with my standard follow-on that my brain injury is NOT SELF INFLICTED.

Because, the second assumption is that all brain injuries are and I will describe a little more info. So, it’s understood how I have had my AVM (Arteriovenous Malformation) all my life and didn’t know it until I was thirty-four.

Then there’s the next round of questions. Well intended, sometimes the way I respond, I hope they read my mood correctly and stop asking questions.

Maybe? No! Don’t be ridiculous.

A few weeks ago, at my favourite café where I go because, well I love it. The staff have gotten to know and I don’t get treated like a weirdo/freak and I don’t get the questions about ‘what have you done to yourself?’

I was in the room, I’m a permanent fixture. Two men came into the room and asked me straight away. The question, don’t ask me to repeat it. And I did in layers of –

Brain Injury
Not self-inflicted
Had it all my life, just didn’t know
Bullied in a stressful work environment

After he had taken all of this in, I realised I’d disclosed way more to a complete stranger than I normally would have and it had all happened so naturally, I hadn’t stopped (he didn’t look horrified), but I felt a little raw and vulnerable.

I had a moment of weakness and almost cried. He obviously realised and he leaned forward and grazed the back of his knuckle against my cheek and told me “You’ll be OK”

And I was really surprised. Now, I don’t want to need to remind people however, if you made it this far? Please hit “LIKE”

Hate feeling needy, but we all have needs and, in this case, we all need validation.

Cat Toys

Published December 27, 2019 by helentastic67

Cat Toys

I have discovered my cat’s favourite toy. I was (as I call it) cat-less for about two years, between my beloved Jamima, Patch the Pirate cat Puddle Duck.

Before getting Mika, just Mika. Or as I sometimes mistakenly call her Ja-Mika. SHUT UP.

Yes, I might have a type it’s tortoise shell. Once you go tortoise shell, you don’t go back. There’s a crazy little psycho in there in everyone.

Anyway, I digress at first, I did what many parent does, I got out Jamima’s old toys, some of which she showed no interest in what so ever and that tradition seems to have been continued.

Of course, like any new hopeful pet owner when the time came, I went out and bought what I like to call the ‘bird on the stick’ and the ‘snake on the stick’. These just live on the bed these days.

Actually, she’s on her second ‘bird’ as one day there appeared to have been a massacre of a bird on the bed.

But, however her favourite toy, I discovered purely by accident as we all do.

One evening, as I was sitting on the couch catching up on my admin, I crumpled up a piece of paper quarter of an A4. Mika appeared from nowhere like a meerkat in front of my legs.

The meerkat version of Mika, sitting on her rump, head twisting from side to side and keen interest on what was in my hand. I threw the wad of paper towards the apartment door. Mika did go get it. I don’t know where she takes them, but occasionally I go around within ‘Reachy-Grabby – thing’.

And collect the balls of paper from every nook and cranny. Tonight, I found this under my Happiness cabinet.

Fuck! I nearly died laughing. There was another toy there, but Mika came and took it away before I could get a photo. I think my neighbours might think a crazy woman lives here.

*No birds were killed during the writing of this post and Mika is an indoor-cat only, so I want to keep it that way.

Bucket of Funding – How to Stem the Flow

Published December 23, 2019 by helentastic67

Bucket of Funding – How to Stem the Flow

Today, I thought I’d give you all a lesson on how to over promise and under deliver and do it in a way that your clients, if you are lucky, will be slow enough not to realise for a little while.

Big business can’t work this way, they would be bankrupt. But this is how governments seem to work because ours at least, is not want the bucket of water to empty too quickly.

When I talk about funding for people with disabilities, there is always talk about State V Federal funding and it’s all about a different bucket of funding.

What they promise is a huge bucket of funding, when they start to deliver on what has been promised. Big bucket with a huge hole in the bottom.

Here’s a life lesson by example:

When the NDIS was piloted in a region in every state of Australia, it was out with everyone having an appointment (assessment) with the NDIA directly.

There was not much (if any) information about where the pilot regions would be, because they worried people would move there and flood those areas (causing a false economy etc) No one knew, what they could ask for from the NDIA, as they seemed to be making it up as they went.

Ironically, rumour was it was such a painful process, people were leaving the pilot region (in Victoria, it was down near Geelong) nobody knew how long the pilot program would run or when it would be rolled out in their district.

It way maybe three or four years before it went to phase two (1^st roll out after the pilot) still impossible to get information of what we could get, what it would cover.

We all got the message in the early days not to get reports and supporting letters early, because the NDIA wouldn’t accept anything older than six months.

I digress,

So, when my region was rolled out, the Northern District of Melbourne, there were three large areas rolled out together. It was fucking chaos and this is the important part. This is how to stem the flow, rather than follow the pilot region (why else have a pilot region, I ask?) they outsourced to other agencies and businesses (Not for Profit, NGO’s) who had tendered for the contracts, but it felt like the information was not given in a clear and concise format.

No one was on the same page and it rather seemed untrained and inexperienced staff were only to gather information for someone else to decide.

I know my mum did some training with an agency that I was not allowed to attend (because I was the client) and it was more geared towards the others, carer or family members present whose participant was much higher needs and had the background of having funding. And I found my mum returning all very excited, I could get a FREE COMPUTER.

I sigh! Oh, dear God, what do I need to set her straight on now?

“You can get a free computer from Greenpeace”

What!? Did you hear that too? (I’m asking you, reading this post)

Um, mum that is an NGO to save the whales.

Daughter, ever so ungrateful, poo-pooing on mum’s new found wealth of knowledge.

“Fine, you call Greenpeace and ask for a FREE COMPUTER” on the other hand, “Green PC” was an NGO that would be donated computers, they would upgrade them and then donate them to people who reeked then, or had to buy them for not much at all.

They ceased trading back in (I forgot now, back in 2010?) because they felt every household in Australia had a computer.

I’m wrapping this post up now!

Oh wait, at first there was a rumble about how much the NDIS was costing tax-payers. More obviously, than they had imagined.

Then, they were suggesting they would dip into the NDIS bucket to give to the drought affected farmers, some much needed financial relief.

There was outrage!

Instead, pubs were offering $10.00 Parma and chips or Parma and salad deals and sending/donating the profit to the drought relief. Which is great, farmers are still dealing with drought.

But the lesson here is the government seemed to work out from the pilot region roll out, not what was needed and how to offer a service and deliver in a timely fashion, but how to slow down their money escaping the bucket too quickly.

If our NDIA ran like a business, no one would choose to do business with them or be their customer and here in lies my point. That is the point.

Footnote! The farmers while optimistic, were not at all on board with funds being taken from the disability sector. “For the drought-stricken farmers we pray for rain”.

Fresh Friday

Published December 20, 2019 by helentastic67

Fresh Friday

It’s not every Friday, it’s not even every other Friday but when it happens it’s fresh! And I’m writing it the day before it goes live because it’s time sensitive and needs to be said. That is because Christmas is only a week away – not even!

While there are many pluses to being a single barren spinster, there are a few negatives and the main obvious ones is the dilemma of Christmas. Before you ask, no my family do not read my blog! But it is also to say, despite the situation at Christmas time it’s not anyone’s fault. No one is to blame it still goes under the heading, it is what it is.

It’s just kinda crappy!

At Christmas, my family is in opposite ends of the state. My mum and younger sister live in one direction close to where I grew up. My older sister and her partner, sorry fiancé live in the other. My father is still in my hometown and I only generally get there to see him when I go to my mums at Christmas for about a week.

While arriving at my mums in the countryside, opening the car door usually late at night upon arrival, brings an instant breathe of fresh air, I fled with pine trees and wood smoke. But from the moment of my arrival, I need someone to help me do everything. There is slip and trip hazards everywhere. Also, doors that must be kept closed to keep this cat outside, my cat inside, me away from cobweb-hazards.

And while my mum very generously gives me her bedroom for the duration of my stay, I’m down the other end of the house from activity. It’s hot and isolating. We all like different things but mine is not at all in line with my hosts. I pitch in by way of packing and unpacking the dishwasher and usually upon arrival I get a wave of OCD, because so much doesn’t have a home, and they have both been so busy making it to Christmas the dust kick-starts my hay fever and I can’t sit still for collecting things for recycling, etc and that just drives them insane that I can’t sit and relax.

We are all tired and we mostly all go into a kind of survival mode. I hibernate, watch my TV shows and sleep.

There is a day I go to visit my high school friends for a few hours, I browse my favourite shop and go visit my father where he has arranged his two brothers and sister in law to visit for afternoon tea. My Aunty always asks, “do you still like honey bread?” Do we all of a sudden stop liking chocolate? Or needing air to survive? And I go home with honey bread. It’s rhetorical right?

My older sister and fiancé are dog people. They have three. Why are they not labelled crazy dog ladies??? No! Of course, it’s just cat-ladies that get a bad rap. They generally do their own thing Christmas Day, this year being the first Christmas my future sister in law without her mum, sadly.

In recent years, we have managed to get together for what I refer to as a lovely lady’s lunch. Usually early December, somewhere a bit special. This year, I offered to attempt to arrange where and when and something we could all afford to contribute to. We all have vastly different fluidity of funds. (That’s a lot of F’s, and none of them my favourite version) You gotta give me a point for that? And after early efforts it became obvious it was to be put off for January, I was fucking (sorry, not sorry!) busy and everyone was proving hard to please. So, I dropped the ball.

So, it has not happened. I made the decision to spend Christmas home with Mika in air-conditioned comfort where I can at least have my carers every day and maintain my independence without need for someone to stop what they’re doing to open a door or move something for me. Not to mention our blend of intolerable foodie intolerance’s. No turkey? Last year I was informed mum forgot the stuffed turkey roll only 30 minutes north of Melbourne in a 3.5-hour drive to the country. Take me back and no Christmas pudding! Because the youngest hates peel! What?

So, this year I decided to go it alone at home and I’m ok with that. I’ve got enough ham to last me a portion a day for two weeks and some for the freezer. Not yet sorted a pudding, but I can cope with that. Besides I have rum balls.

I’ve also been managing the guilt and expectation of others, at the last minute my mum has asked if I can invite some of my neighbours over on Christmas Day? Because Christmas is supposed to be about family and being together and putting all of your shit aside for one day, so you can celebrate together and I don’t want to inflict myself upon others and ruin some other family’s day. I told my mum the people she suggested I could invite over we’re going to be in the States for two weeks and the other neighbour is Muslim, so no ham for her, or rum balls.

So, as a gentle reminder to those with plans for Christmas Day. Please check in on a neighbour or elderly person or anyone you know who may be socially isolated. It means so much to hear a friendly voice when you feel you are all alone.

FYI, I’m off social media Christmas Day and both my numbers are silent. So, if you want to reach out be prepared beforehand.

Now, on a more upbeat note: I do have a really upbeat post planned for Christmas Day, so stay tuned. And JD, you will get your cat-friendly Christmas tree!

Cheers,
H

Efficient

Published December 16, 2019 by helentastic67

Efficient

How to learn valuable life lessons and the value of efficiency? Learn to do things one-handed.

The End!

No really, I see a series coming up.

Back in the busy days of my teenage years, I started to have some weakness in my left arm, when doing evening cuppa T (tea) duty, family was impatient and didn’t appreciate me taking my time bringing one cup in at a time from the kitchen to the loungeroom (not far for Christ sake. Be patient).

So, I carried two cups and my left-hand shook, spilling some tea. The carpet (shagpile from the 70’s) was far from immaculate, I was growled at. Then I was instructed to dip my left shoulder a bit. It didn’t help.

But, the moral of the story is, from seventeen years of age I started being much more efficient one-handed. I didn’t stop using my left, I just favoured my right.

I could touch type, however years later in my early thirty’s if I was holding a phone to my left ear while chatting with a client, I could type much more efficiently right-handed, even with only three fingers (thumb, little finger and pointer finger). Still can, had years of practice.

When Everything Was Going Well – Then

Published December 13, 2019 by helentastic67

When Everything Was Going Well – Then

Ok, this must be said first, we will never speak of it again. To be fair I will probably need to start a series and this is a very mild one, as the others are very embarrassing and will come complete with a threat of violence to any who mention them in my presence.

This is not so embarrassing, just a moment of pure frustration where everything was going so well (in my kitchen) and then all of a sudden: Just NO.

As you should be aware, I’m a pretty decent home cook, even for a one-handed numpty like myself. So, when things go somewhat sideways, I’m wondering how it happened. I have a cooking shift with a carer once weekly.

It’s with my Girl-Friday chick and we are really good working together in the kitchen. I’m the experienced ‘brain’ in the duo and my Girl-Friday is the muscle.

Don’t think for a second I give her all my shit-work. I don’t. We work really well together, I do more of the cutting of vegies, while she does the peeling, but while she has things to do, I will clean the sink and pack the dishwasher well and dictate what she needs to do next. Normally, when we bake cakes (or muffins as I can turn them out one-handed) Today, we did a double batch of some muffins I regularly do. I make them regularly and I never do a single batch. It requires a big bowl which the dry ingredients goes into (the flours, sugar, raising agents) then another (with the secret ingredient/the vanilla essence/the oils) and a third bowl to whisk the eggs. Add C to B, then to A.

Oh, what’s that? You want the recipe? No. Or I’d have to kill you all.

Some recipes I don’t give out. Never. They come with the polite threat “I can tell you, but I’ll have to kill you!”

So, today all of the ingredients were doubled, except I quadrupled the two flours and it wasn’t until Girl-Friday had mixed the wet into the dry that I stated “Why is it so dry?” 6.30pm came and Girl Friday will try to continue to ‘fix’ them and I’m more of the mind to ‘bin-it’ and move on.

I’ve been known to rescue a bechamel sauce from disaster and Girl Friday (20 years my junior, often mistaken as my daughter) is in awe.

But on a rare occasion I don’t know what the hell happened, in the end I baked ¾’s of the mixture and will try one tomorrow with a little butter to make the final decision.

While on other days we will smash out a double batch of other muffins, a batch of mushroom baskets, (including halal-friendly dozen for my neighbour) and a cauliflower and sauce.

Competent

Published December 9, 2019 by helentastic67

Competent

Once upon a time, I had a great Case-Manager when they were still call that (Now, in 2019 It’s called Support Co-ordinator). She and I were doing some forms to apply for funding. We struggled to think of a softer, less offensive word for incompetent. Oh, how we struggled.

Remember the day when studying at College, the options were ‘Competent’ or ‘Not yet Competent’? I presume, it was because by hell or highwater you would pass. They would get over the line, so they got the statistics they needed to continue getting funded.

Keeping in mind, I was not trying to be a brain surgeon, but to dress windows and make store displays so enticing you just had to buy them.

Nor did I know back then, I was not a man nor a gay man. Nor did I have a folio sufficient for me to do freelance. Nor did I own a car or a licence. Another think ‘Not yet competent’ does not cut it.