The Good, The Bad

Published December 26, 2016 by helentastic67

the-good-the-bad

The Good/The Bad

There is a children’s book I recall reading as a child. I can’t at all remember what it was called but the story line and message stuck with me. It is literally a story about a little boy who gets into an aeroplane and flies up into the sky, then the aeroplane runs out of fuel. He flies it upside down and he falls out. And he falls out of the aeroplane and he falls in the direction of a haystack. But the haystack has a pitchfork sticking up in it. But it’s OK because he misses the pitchfork, but he misses the haystack also. But it’s all okay! Because he lands in a pond.

aeroplane

The message is obviously to teach the young impressionable minded reader that life is good and bad in equal measures.

Sometimes, it feels like only bad things happen and not enough good. In recent years, I’ve developed a disability, on the upside, I’ve maintained my ability to speak for myself (when people listen) and I can manage my own finances. I might not be rich, but I’m not starving and I’ve kept a roof over my head.

Sometimes, the good isn’t completely blow you away, amazing it’s little things. But those little things all add up to.

Here are a few good things;

Winter in my house is a little brutal, however I can keep the butter on the bench and it doesn’t melt or go mouldy.
I am not reliant on a man in my life! I might be single however, I’m not bad at being single. I can survive without a male presence in my life.

ONWARDS…

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Winter Part 2

Published December 23, 2016 by helentastic67

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Winter Part 2

When Winter hit’s I’m always reminded of going clubbing during Winter. The 3-5 nights a week of clubbing has finally caught up with me!

outside-nightclub

Those nights of walking up a narrow street in the city to one club where the buildings towered either side of us and acted like a wind tunnel blowing right through whatever you were wearing.

Usually a cute little Dotty dress, layers of tights covered by a long black leather jacket. My friend and I would catch our breath at a particularly cool gust of wind and convince ourselves once we were inside it would be better.

leather-jacket

Once inside we had the opposite problem, Jackets safely kept on the top floor with our favourite DJ in the booth.

I will leak some tidbits about my club days in time, but I find it ironic that these day’s I think it’s been 2 or 3 years since I last ventured out to a club. It was the 23^rd reunion of the first club I ever worked at. It was Spring and some people I hadn’t seen for all of the years since. These days, as of making up for a miss-spent ‘youth’, I spend every night on my couch alone, eating my dinner and watching TV. Alone, weird how life is right?

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Winter Part 1

Published December 19, 2016 by helentastic67

winter-1 Winter!

It’s the second day of Winter in Melbourne. (Although by the time you read this, I don’t know. I’ve just sent another batch of post to my Administrator). And I don’t know what it is but the last few years Winter has taken me a little by surprise. I seem despite no longer being a size-skinny, I really feel the cold.

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The first Winter after my “Stroke” (Stroke, but not a stroke!) I need to give up my flannelette sheets. I wear flannel pj’s in Winter and bedsox’s and flannel on flannel when trying to rollover when ½ your body doesn’t comply is like Velcro. I’d roll to my right and the top sheet would follow leaving my back to get cold.

flannel-pjs-1

I moved to my current home, a spacious unit 3 ½ years ago and the first Winter I rolled the radiator heater into my bedroom and switched it on.

I convinced myself I would only have it on at night! Then, I told myself I would only have it on, on weekends! Then, I got my next power bill!

Nearly died! Took that heater, unplugged it and rolled it back into the spare room. Haven’t used it since.

I saw an elderly gentleman on A Current Affairs program a few years ago discussing how hard it was to live on a pension. I quote him when I say “It’s heat or eat”.

heat-or-eat

It’s a horrible thought that I can’t afford to do both. I really can’t do eating disorders as food inspires me and gives me great joy to shop (Ouch $$$$) and even more to send out my texts to have people come collect my ‘treats’.

But it would seem I can’t afford to heat either.

To be completely clear, I don’t cope in Summer either! 25 Degrees C is my limit! 40 Degrees C means I stay in the lounge with the air con on! I have just officially become an old person.

too-old-1

Life

Published December 16, 2016 by helentastic67

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Life!

So, it occurs to me that while I often have a humorous bent and way to write about things, I often write when I’m in the mood to write.

Right now, I definitely don’t much care to write. I feel on top of the usual “seedy” and left eye barely able to see, my stomach is really not helping.

So, it’s probably, with all the thoughts buzzing in my mind the most perfect time to vent my thoughts.

thoughts-in-head

Last Friday, I received some good news. I won my 2^nd appeal to Stupidlink (my friends G-rated term for Australia’s Government Pension Provider) for a debt and it looked like I wouldn’t have to pay it back for the next 25 God damned years of my life.

phone-with-centrelink-1

I know, I hear you saying ‘Get a Goddamned job Cow!’ But it’s not that easy.

Keeping in mind, I have this ‘debt’ because I earn a small pension from my Superfund because my disability is permanent life-long injury and I’m unable to go back to work.

Part of the debt was forgiven due to Stupidlink losing my forms when I declared them, 5 years ago!

And for the last 5 years this ‘extra income’ has allowed me to afford (what I now term as simple luxuries) paying my rent on time.

Keeping the lights on.

Living alone because housemates like to free load, because they think I’ve got a sweet life and they want to hitch a ride.

No seriously, as fucked up as that sounds, it happened!

Apparently eating, I thought I’d be able to keep doing that!

And over weekend I took a deep sigh of relief that for once the Universe was looking after me and I could afford to continue/or return to be able to do all of the above.

Today, I received a letter. I decided to do call straight away to follow it up! The letter was to prompt me to do just that in the hope that I had miraculously come into some income or wealth where I could start repaying more of the debt every fortnight.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot – I hear myself say?

wtf

Um, I mention the letter I received only last Friday (today is Monday), that said debt had been waivered!

There was no note of it on the system and apparently after a call to the appropriate people came back with the information that they have until the 31^st May to appeal the decision and it looks like they will do that!

More questioning on my part and it looks like I have to cry ‘poor’ in another round!

So, feeling overwhelmingly tired and sick to my stomach, I did what I always do when life gets stressful.

I went to bed!

I woke hours later not feeling much better and questioning how I can live on less, what decisions I am supposed to make to make the Government able to cripple me a little more.

Let’s see;

Do I give up my Friday Custard Scroll? That’s $3.30

I really can only tell the week is over when I wrap the week with a coffee and Custard Scroll on Friday afternoon.

That will take a long time at $3.30 per week.

I guess I can live without those things, but they are literally the only nice things I get/do each week to make life in some way more livable.

I’ll just say, it makes me happy!

Is it too much to ask to be a little happy?

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Rant

Published December 12, 2016 by helentastic67

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Rant!

OK, I need to rant! Here are some classic examples of what totally shits me about Public Housing.

I don’t have it! To be fair I don’t want it! But I need it.
There are young perfectly able bodied people who could work, but don’t and they only pay A$80.00 per week. Government Housing is calculated by your income. It’s generally only 26%.

About 5 years ago, I lived opposite some Public Housing, it was only a two story building and all flats. Very 60’s and on some nights the residents provided some light entertainment and other times not so.

Here are some examples;

There was this lovely 70-year-old Chinese lady who I used to donate my compost bin to (not a very good compost bin, but all organic and very smelly all the same) and that woman had the energy of a 50-year old. Every year when the pot she gave me ‘flowers’. I think fondly of her.

Then there was the ‘other’ Chinese lady who at one point I think her daughter stayed with her. She had a red Carerra Porsche. But one morning there was a loud noise and when I went outside I saw a tow truck loading said Carerra onto it and departing. I imagine it was repossessed.

porsche

Then there was an enviable vegie patch in the front single dad had planted. I also gave him some of the compost.

Then there was the night when I could hear a woman’s voice calling out over the upstairs balcony “Help! Please somebody!” Over and over again!

crying-for-help

After a short time and peeking through the blinds of the front bedroom. I lived in a single story terrace back then. I found a woman on the top floor balcony calling out while someone else was attempting to ‘move them out like Rock-stars!’ (that’s when you just throw everything out over the balcony)

I rang the Police! The woman’s cries for rescue took some time to abate.

When I rang the Police, I couldn’t give the exact address for across the street so I gave mine with the

express instructions not to knock on my door.

I had only just moved in and didn’t want to make enemies, but also didn’t want anyone to suffer abuse.

Disaster! The Police put a spotlight on the front of my home and a Policeman came to my door! WFT! Subtle? Epic fail.

I had also just had my treatment and I went to the door with NO HAIR! Very self-conscious, I peeked around from behind the door. Mr Plod’s clearly thought I was timid and hiding. Mr Plod’s clearly had sent Mrs Plod’s up to deal with the domestic.

I know my first comment is not supported by the rest of my points however, as you can imagine this subject is never closed. Next!

rant-over

Worst Test Ever

Published December 9, 2016 by helentastic67

worst-test-ever

Worst Test Ever

Ok, so there’s actually two tests/treatments I’ve experienced over the last 10 years and ironically, I’ve managed to have two of each. So, I might as well be on a roll and get them over and done with and write about them now. If you don’t do horror (I don’t) and you are squeamish you are excused and can skip them. But if you want reminding, you only have to read about it.

I actually had the procedures and was WIDE AWAKE for them.

Firstly, soon after diagnosis back in 2007, I saw my first Neuro-Surgeon who asked if I was claustrophobic. I am not, but I could later appreciate why he asked.

A test was scheduled to look more closely at the arteries in my brain. This procedure is called a Cerebral Angiogram.

3d-angiographic-imaging-1

My first recommendation if someone tells you, you have to have one, is the night before, get a snatch wax! No, really.

If your anti-razors or have a beautician who will be displeased by a razor on certain parts of your body. Go get waxed!

snatch-wax

Now this procedure, you are bare ass naked! (Just warning you) with only a gown on that for this occasion you put on open at the front. I found I was nervous so kept wanting to pee. When they wheel your bed into the room it feels like an operating room.

And the first thing that occurs to you is how crowed that room is. One or two people will talk directly to you. Don’t expect to remember anyone’s names.

Medical personal quickly take on nicknames in your head, such as ‘Hot Doctor’, ‘Old Doctor’, ‘Nice Nurse’ or ‘Chic, chic, chic, chic, guy, guy, guy!’ Why are there so many guys?

too-many-doctors

And a nurse comes over and produces a pink daisy razor. I looked at her and told her she wouldn’t need that. She lifted my gown & she told me they love girls like me! And her eyes darted around the room to all the other girls sharing a knowing look. I wonder if they bet on whether or not they have to shave the patient. A carefully folded face washer was strategically placed over my groin & I recall looking down thinking it hadn’t been very big to start with before it was folded.

I recall looking down to see what they do, until the needle came out. It was a local anesthetic and those needles really sting. Next came the scalpel and they made an incision at the top of my thigh (pretty much along the line where your underwear sits) for about an inch. I confess I looked down at this point because the ‘older’ doctor came over and started touching the skin around the incision. The question lingered in the air, “More anesthetic?” Oh my God he’s going to jab me again…….little did I realize that would not be the worst part…..

groin-management

Next, a wire was fed into the artery at the incision and while I didn’t feel anything there was a very weird sensation. Head back I was told to breathe deeply, I understand this is when the wire passed up through my heart. It then continued up into my head. Large plastic shower cap type things were placed over some square plastic plates that were moved close to several sides of my head and face. Very close this is when the claustrophobic query came to mind.

claustraphobic

The room seemed to clear and the young doctor started describing the next step. Words like “stay calm, warm, don’t move, and a weird taste in my mouth “and the understanding that they would do it as quickly as possible. FYI; How quickly they would perform the tests was not up to them at all but my ability to not move, freak out or anything else.

From behind a window off to one side a voice came to remind me to hold still. Next, No words! No words, can accurately describe the next part but I’ll try! Every known swear word comes to mind but I think I managed to only Yelp an “Ow!” (don’t know how) A burst of warm iodine, or contrast was released up into one artery then another into my brain. Each renewed the metallic taste in my mouth I could not get rid of. I’m certain it was not boiling but it felt like it, because it wouldn’t dissipate. The last burst out iodine (must have saved the best till last) was down the side of my jaw. It was even more unpleasant because the heat travels over your jaw and under your skin. You realise how there is not much else there but skin and bone. And you could not make it go away.

Imaging

And each release of the iodine showed up on the monitor that was above me suspended from the ceiling. Squiggly lines snaking across the image of my skull. I had the perfect line to give the doctor except they were all in the other room behind the safety-glass……..it went something like this “Someone should tell the guy in the next room he’s completely messed up!” When clearly it was me that had the seriously messed up arteries.

squiggly-lines-in-brain

Then, of course the monitor machine started beeping oddly and everyone that had returned to the room started moving more quickly. I was told my blood pressure had dropped and to breathe calmly. I don’t know, what else I was to do, I was also told I had to keep my head down and not to lift it.

The wire was removed and they moved me over to another trolley and into a small room. A guy pressed on the wound and started to count. He asked me a polite question and I’m sure he didn’t expect such a chatty response, but I must talk more with a guy putting pressure on an open artery near my groin. Must have been nervous and embarrassed. I’m sure he lost count and when he released the wound it continued to bleed. I had asked if they put a stitch in it? No? What about a bandaid? They told me it would ‘just close up’. Huh?

I as wheeled out to the room with lots of other people (recovery?) had, had other procedures. I just wanted to know when I could get up and pee? Hours, the answer was hours. Felt like a lifetime! To return my blood pressure to normal a drink and a sandwich were produced and I was expected to eat and drink without lifting my head. To be clear, I did. And then I threw up. And I had to lift in order to do this. This was also my first experience of the bedpan. So, I will just say, bedpans, not invented for ladies peeing while lying down. I’ll spare you the details and just say, sheets were changed. I eventually got my bandaid after the wound was inspected a further 20 times. And of course, a group of young ‘student’ doctors came around also by which time I had an all-out migraine. Lots of stupid questions I did not need while trying not to lift my head or throw up asking what my symptoms were so I could explain how I knew it was a migraine. If you have not had the displeasure, you want to be left alone and in the quiet and dark. I had some tingling down my left arm. I’m sure they gave me something after this and left me alone because I couldn’t stop vomiting.

I was kept on the ward overnight. Where even more young doctors visited to quiz me. Super! One guy I gave him so much cheek when he told me he once misplaced his car I told him he didn’t deserve his car and he should handover his keys. My hand was out and he didn’t know how to respond. I did not leave the hospital with a car, just saying.

medical-students

The second time I had an Angio, because you know there was. Considering how unpleasant it was, it went a little better.

When I had my meeting with my radiologist I told him, “Just promise me I will never have to have another Angio, because it really did seem the worst thing ever. He looked uncomfortable and I’m certain my mum grumbled I couldn’t ask that. Like hell I couldn’t, I’d been the one who had had one not her. “Just lie to me, it’s fine!” And he did.

Eventually, when it was time to have that next Angiogram to confirm my treatment had done its job and I didn’t require any more he broke the news, “we need to have a conversation about that test you don’t like”. And there is no point fighting it, you have another Angiogram. The second time was better. I was at a different hospital and knowing what to expect makes it much better. Secondly, and this is my next bit of advice, when they come over to you and offer you drugs? Take it! I was given a ‘mild sedative’ and as I had had an allergic reaction to the iodine I was given something for that too. But this time, I came up with the description that it felt like I was being punched in the head but from the inside! And I’ve never been punched in the head at all, and I’m not complaining about that.

pain-killers

Lastly, I would love it if every young doctor had to experience that procedure, that is so intensely distasteful as it is.

Music To My Ears

Published December 5, 2016 by helentastic67

music-to-my-ears

Music to My Ears

Oh minimalist industrial German techno! It’s been so long. I had an MRI (Magnetic Resonating Imaging) yesterday and that is the best way I’ve heard the noise made by the MRI machine, so that how I’ve described it ever since.

mri-scan-room

The specialist appointment I had several weeks ago now was supposed to result in an MRI but, best laid plans and all that! But my regular monthly appointment with my GP Dr Chris last Tuesday sorted it out in only 6 days.

My GP is a genius, more about him another day, but in the meantime, I thought I’d give a little ‘non-doctor’ advice about what to expect when you go for tests like an MRI.

Mostly, I’ve had a few in the last 10 years so my response is very ‘Meh!’ (Shrugs) Whatever: Next!

But for me, I know what to expect, so on a very rare occasion someone I know tells me they are going for a test or procedure that I’m the person to explain what’s going to happen and what to expect. Sometimes, knowing helps relieve the anxiety. So, I think my next few posts will be about that!

Here’s what to expect for an MRI.

It gives more detail than a CT scan, but I won’t elaborate because I don’t speak enough “DOCTOR!”

The first part is pre-planning, you get this part right, it’s a whole lot easier when you get there.

Take out your piercings (don’t argue, just do it) I have 3 piercings in my ears. That’s it! And I wear a light chain around my neck.

Don’t wear any metal objects. I live in tracksuit pants these days. NOT daggy ones, but not dry-clean only either.

Yesterday, I filled in 4 pages of questionnaire. The barrage of questions is intense.

It’s a bit of a tick and flick affair. Even for me things like, any pacemakers, stents? Surgeries? Is there any chance you could be pregnant? Um? If I had a dollar for every time I’d been asked that in the last 10 years and are you breast feeding? I hope you have all read my profile stating I’m a single celibate barren spinster? Well, that’s the answer for that one! Tattoos? I don’t have tattoos so I don’t know what that would do for the people covered in them. I like a good tattoo. I always meant to get one, just didn’t yet?

barren-spinster-bitch-with-cats

So generally. You go in, change your top half of clothing and put on a gown and then you usually lie down on a bed that is slightly curved to fit your body. It’s quite comfortable. Your head sits between a slightly raised frames. They give you a squeezy thing that is like an emergency button, so you can tell them if you need stuff. (Not like a cup of tea, but if you don’t feel well or can’t cope)

positioned-in-mri

Love it when this bubble-thing that is offered to my left hand because that hand is going to do big fat nothing! Yes it happens! If they offer you a blanket, take it! They will give you some ear plugs (foam disposables) and wedge some bits of foam near your ears so your head won’t move.

Usually a plastic foam is pushed down over the top and if you’re lucky there is music. (Besides the minimalist German Industrial Techno) and above your face inside the MRI machine, sometimes theirs a mirror so you can see a clock or timer down on the wall beyond your feet.

Sometimes it’s just nice to have something to focus on.

If you’re especially lucky they will talk to you throughout the scans. It might only take 15 – 20 minutes but each scan might only be 4 minutes long. If they give you warning be sure to swallow. Makes you self-conscious that if and when you swallow your head will move. I can guarantee you during that 20 minutes you will get an itch somewhere and a hiccup or an itchy throat. It’s Murphy’s Law.

Don’t get grumpy if you have a set appointment time for your MRI and then find yourself waiting. Some people may be anxious or claustrophobic or have an epileptic fit and they have to come out to calm down before returning to their scans.

Be patient! All I’m saying.

Afterwards, you will get back into your clothes and maybe wait 5 – 10 minutes before departing. Some places will hand you a CD of your scans. Only Doctors have the software to see the scans and your referring doctor will get the results.

Sometimes, if they need to see your arteries they will inject you with a small amount of iodine or contrast. (Without getting too “Doctor”)

This is often injected into the back of your hand or inside your elbow.

The iodine some people can have an allergic reaction to. My experiences have been that other scans (yet to react) I’ve felt nausea and vomiting but small doses it’s OK.

One miraculous sensation is a nice warm flush that travels to your groin. Super! Kinda has that sensation you may have “pee’d” (just a little). Don’t worry, everybody feels that sensation. The best comment from a technician was that ‘no one in his experience has actively “pee’d”. That technician has been working at the same place for 20 years. So I trust his judgement.

The iodine or contrast usually absorbs into your system very quickly, so you needn’t panic. It’s good to drink a little water before you leave and that it’s nothing to freak out about…. Yet!!!

iodine-glow

Dumb Things………….. (People Say)

Published December 2, 2016 by helentastic67

dumb-things-said

Dumb Things…….. (People say)

It often saddens me the things people say when you are having a rough time of life. I caught up with a club friend from years ago when I had NO HAIR from radiation. Considering I used to have hair down to my ass, the change from that to a No. 1 buzz cut was pretty significant.

helen-and-hair

His response was that “he felt he had some decent friends at this point in his life, he could rely on if he needed help.”

Ummmm……..

What do you say to that?

friends

I have never presumed I could call on him if I needed anything and it’s ok, because that friend hopefully will never need learn how few of those friends will actually be there should shit ever really hits the fan. Not many.
Seriously, the stupid/senseless things people have said to me since my diagnosis, I could write a book!

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Ignorance is Bliss

Published November 28, 2016 by helentastic67

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Ignorance is Bliss!

I love when people give me advice, when they have no idea how the system works! Let me premise this by saying I will never starve to death! I can’t do eating disorder because I like and respect food! And while I’m no longer a neat size 10. (Shuddup! I’m not in my 20’s anymore either) I’m about two months from starving to death. (I have a little insulation) People love to give me cost cutting measures.

Thin to fat

It goes like this; why don’t you get food vouchers? Or there are places you can go to get free meals?

Well, I find myself explaining to them.

Once upon a time ‘kids’ who spent all their money on hairspray and clubbing would go to every welfare group around town to get food vouchers.

Food Vouchers

These days, they are all way to savvy for that and you can only generally go to the ones where you fall under their ‘catchment’ You produce a HCC (Health Care Card) which shows your address.

I ring mine to book an appointment to see them. I have to be prepared and take an income statement from Centrelink. That’s an hour on the phone right there. (Of my life I’ll never get back) Helps if you have a fax number so it can be faxed to the agency.

centrelink-1

Some welfare organisations you just turn up one morning during the week. They might not open until 10am and they have 4 vouchers. Usually 2 x $20.00 each and you can only go ONCE A YEAR!

STOP HELPING!!!

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Slave

Published November 25, 2016 by helentastic67

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Slave

That old line “You get what you pay for!” Trust me! This is not going where you think it is…….

A few years ago, I had Botox in my calf. Seems a waste of good Botox, I know because no one cares if my calf looks ‘younger’ or not! But it was in fact to help me walk better.

botox-calf-muscle

The overall theory was so it would relax certain muscles in my foot so I could walk properly and stop the hyper-extension in my knee, so years from now I won’t require a knee replacement.

hyperextended-knee

In this country, they like to wait until you are “10 years from death” before they give you one. Knee replacements only last 10 years, but how do you know when death will actually occur?

I know, I can’t afford to live past 5pm today however, in this lifetime I’m yet to achieve what I think I’m here to achieve. I don’t yet know what that is, but I’d like to want to hang around to give it a red hot go!

Anyway, as per usual, I digress!

Because I’m a slave to the Public Medical system, because I’m lucky to be articulate and apparently ‘respond’ well to treatments. I am often asked to participate in trials, studies, have students sit in on appointments, the list goes on, believe me!

public-health

So, I was part of a trial over a year ago.

The outcome for the trial was to get Botox on the PBS for all lower limbs, for stroke, MS (whatever) Botox is wasted in faces and more useful in arms, armpits, calves etc.

Digress again.

So, Botox in calf muscles and into hospital! Rehab and the food and isolation is the same!

I may have neglected to mention somewhere that I have this totally awesome thing called a “Drop-foot” (it’s not a cool thing at all)

dropfoot-foot-drop

It’s common for people who have had a stroke! I can’t lift my toes when I walk, it means I drag my toes when I walk, I scuff them.

Botox, relaxes muscles in certain areas. I had my first plaster cast (ever) at age 42 and I didn’t even have anything broken.

And the idea was my calf and foot were forced into a position to better deal with an AFO (Ankle, foot orthotic) that would help my walking and stop the hyper-extension.

But it wasn’t just ‘A’ cast it was ‘A’ cast for a week, then a second cast for the second week! To say, I don’t cope well in hospital is an understatement!

legcast

They told me if I could keep the cast dry and wouldn’t be at risk of falling over I could go home, but even though at great cost to me, I was catching taxis to my appointments, several days a week. I was stressed and suffering migraines most days and they wouldn’t even give me sufficient medication when I had actually supplied my own! (Dr prescribed) medication.

It’s a form of bullying but don’t get me started. They would turn up (Nurses) with a little white pill and I would ask ‘is it Endone? That will do nothing, but it was all I was allowed to have. So ‘Fine!’ Give it! See you in 30 minutes!’ And I just stopped asking!

little-white-pill

So, there was no internet in my hospital! Or there was, but it was so slow, I attempted to post something to Facebook because according to 1^st world problems law that’s what you do.

‘Wah! Poor me! I’m in hospital! Getting something fixed that was working perfectly well until I was a dickhead! And now even though my condition is 100% fixable, I want SYMPATHY!!!

sympathy-quotes

Sorry for the rant! But this is based on actual events! They were in the same hospital at the same time, but I neglected to visit!

Do I sound bitter? Not sorry!

They promised me an AFO and shoes the day I left the hospital. They cast my leg the day I left the hospital for the AFO which was to be custom made.

I didn’t get it until a few weeks later. The day I left the hospital, my mum bought me shoes! Because, they told me I had to have been released a month before they could apply for the funding for the shoes!

After wearing the wrong shoes for about 6 months, nearly rolling my ankle and blisters on my foot, I had to protect with self-funded Band-Aids (thanks mum – again)

Side bar! Why blisters are bad 101!

foot-blister

Blisters can lead to ulcers, which can lead to open wounds. As I can’t really feel my left foot, until things really hurt, but by then it’s too late. Do I need to explain this further?

Let’s move on.

So, get the shoes eventually, 6 months later. That was quick because I finished the process with regular calls to Sweppe (The funding body) and the Orthotists at the hospital to nudge things along. And rather than me being able to go to the medical shoe specialist as I had asked the funding again went to the hospital and I ended up with Dr Comfort shoes. They sound like Grandma Shoes don’t they?

Well, No. 1 they still didn’t do what they were meant to!!!

dr-comfort-shoes

After only 3 months of these non-medical shoes I went to see my private orthotist and he looked at the AFO that the hospital had made for me and he stated he wouldn’t have made it like that! And that it had not fixed the Hyper-Extension. Super!

A short time after this, my Sweppe-funded shoes died some. They wouldn’t fund another pair for 12 months. Growl! And my mum drove me across town to a Medical shoe shop and had me fitted for another pair of shoes. I was told these shoes would last years and even if they needed some work they would last forever. Again, upon seeing my AFO, she stated she had “never seen one like that”

medical-shoes

Again, no comfort what-so-ever. My mum funded those shoes. $310.00 be a use I otherwise wouldn’t have any shoes and would be house bound. Pass! I later had my case management organisation refund her……..but it took time.

They are the most expensive shoes I think I’ve ever owned! Young Janus describes them as prison warden shoes. I really miss my Adidas Gazelles. They were the last of my personality and ability to wear my Street-Wear and show something of my personality pre-disability.

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