The Wise One

Published January 13, 2016 by helentastic67

The Wise One 1

I’m lucky I’m right handed and that’s the arm I’m left with. And that one now does a great deal. What people wouldn’t realize is that my right side does so much, it’s overworked and there are consequences to this. I get up in the morning and I have pins and needles in my good hand.

It’s very ordinary, because sometimes I get up and my hand is completely numb. I’ve been able to master still doing the things I need to do; go to the bathroom/make breakfast. When full circulation is restored my arm gets itchy.

When in public I’ve been known to ask someone who knows me to ‘please scratch my arm?’ And don’t stop unit you see blood….

They seem happy to assist until I mention blood…

Oh well!!!

Sometimes I find myself watching my cat. Cat logic is an interesting thing. Cats like to “scent” their home just like dogs do, but in different ways. I’ve noticed the places my cat likes to rub her face and I’ve discovered the edge of the kitchen pantry is just the right amount of sharpness, but not lethal to rub my arm. Often getting in a scratch in passing.

I have a friend, different original medical diagnosis, but we have ended up with similar physical deficiencies. I’ve stood talking to him in my lounge, scratching my arm on “something” an apologizing because it may have seemed I wasn’t paying attention.

He told me, not to worry, he had been so intent on scratching his own arm at home somewhere, he had managed to take a chunk out of plaster!

Like

Published January 7, 2016 by helentastic67

Like!

There is a word I would like, DAMN IT! Prefer to omit from my everyday language. No it’s not the Bomb!

That word is way too valuable!

I have a carer tomorrow who I get along very well with. I call her Aunty Christine! It comes in handy when I have to give Jamima (my cat) the talk!

You know the ‘talk’……..

“C’mon there are starving kids in Africa that won’t eat today! Eat your dinner Aunty Christine gave it to you!”

But anyway, she will arrive tomorrow and she has an appropriate level of common sense where she will see the plastic “thing” on the kitchen bench and ask me what I want her to do with it…

She will not ask me if I want her to recycle it because next to it are the suction “thing” that attach it to the wall of my shower and a tube of Superglue…

I will happily respond to her question with a grumpy “Can you fix that fucking thing?”

And after we laugh about it, she will fix the fucking thing.

The fucking thing in question is a plastic holder that sticks to the shower wall and holds 2 hand pump bottles. One for shampoo and one for conditioner…

No OT (Occupational Therapist) told me that one! And see if you can use the F Bomb in context it’s acceptable. Unlike (grrr) the word ‘like!’

I hate that word because I’m not 14 and I have other words in my vocabulary!

What words do you not….. favour?

Life One Handed

Published December 29, 2015 by helentastic67

Invisible disability 3

For those that don’t know!

Sometimes, I’m going to issue a challenge to those who don’t have a physical disability.

Go to the supermarket and buy a BBQ Chicken. Take a home and one handed, take the meat off the carcass…

Yes, you can wait until it cools down. That is not the hard part!

Now wash your hand!

Without using your other hand.

Having a disability means to keep living and enjoying life, you have to learn to be adaptive…

One day my carer arrived on a Monday, I asked hr to do this task for me.

She responded with a cheerful – “Oh my funnest job ever!”

And we laughed…

Sometimes and this is how you learn, I eat certain foods with a food handling glove on. It makes for easier clean-up!

The BBQ Chicken, same scenario…

Hidden Disability

Published December 21, 2015 by helentastic67

Invisible disability 2

Hidden Disability

Seems to be the new ‘go to’ word/term for disability.

I had a technician come to my home last week to fix “something” and I was trying to explain to him I wasn’t a lazy cow for not being able to do my own tech support or not moving the 5 small things so he could more conveniently get to the issue he was there to attend to.

He seemed confused so I bluntly told him “you can’t tell, but I have a disability.” I basically gave him the cliff notes (short version) and told him what I’d lost. But around my home there are not many obvious signs that a person with a disability lives there and I compensate so well if you were to watch me you also wouldn’t realize how much I’ve lost…

But, so help me God! (In a non-religious way) every time I am out and about or in a taxi I will be asked: ‘What have you done to your arm?’

And it’s this big thing I have to explain. There’s advice. Advice from taxi drivers! Garlic and lemon pulp. Cure all!

Except, I’d be single forever even keeping the vampires away. Bah Humbug!

And you realize my disability is not hidden when people like to assume and judge me and imagine I did something to deserve this new existence.

I will revisit this topic because these days people see me out and about and they say to me “You look well put together!” And ignoring how old-lady that term is for now. When I’m out and about and have a smile on my face, people would imagine I’m always like that.

They don’t realize, I need a carer to help me in the morning so I can get out of the house…

They don’t realize every day I spend out of the house, out getting to appointments and doing “things” I spend the next day in bed…

They don’t realize I get out of bed and it takes about an hour for all the pins and needles to go from my good hand!

People just see my arm in the cuff and collar. They don’t realize there are secondary issues.

And the secondary issues on the secondary issues…

More of that later…

Salami

Published December 10, 2015 by helentastic67

Salami 1

Salami

Or as I like to call it ‘Salamia’!

There are many words I like to pronounce incorrectly. Life should be fun that way…

Anyway, Salami is getting quite the bad rap these days. It causes cancer and shortens life.

I’m a big fan of Salami being a little bit wog!

Salami is a standard on a Saturday in my house and if I’m lucky another day during the week if I’m home…

No one is saying if the difference between eating Salami is a shorter life by say six months off my life every time I eat Salami?

I think you have worked out already I’m not giving up my Saturday meat that MUST HAVE SALAMI!

And we all die, right? And we will die regardless of if we eat processed meats. Might as well die well fed…

But if someone can do the maths for me.

Every time I eat Salami, do I lose 6 months or 5 years simply because I eat the stuff!

I’ve just worked out part of my income runs out at 60! Not 67, as previously thought!

But 60!

So, in order to maintain this wonderful frivolous existence I must promptly die at 60!

And then I’m also thinking; “That’s 17 more years of this bullshit existence!”

Better eat more Salami!

Diagnosis

Published December 8, 2015 by helentastic67

Diagnosis 2

Diagnosis

“Now tell me, what’s wrong with you?” a shoulder specialist asked me once. You might immediately think my shoulder, correct? Since that was his specialty.

But there’s that thing all medical personal do when ‘assess you!’

To which I replied “How long have you got?”

But first I must digress.

In my early 30’s as you may have read I was working as an Admin Assistant for an NGO. You know, “Admin” it’s that term meaning you do EVERYTHING that is delegated to you and some for really crappy pay.

Oh, I loved that job! I was really good at that job!

Anyway, work became stressful (another time) and my left arm which had always “worked” lost some of its strength and dexterity…

I struggled to touch type, so I hid this by typing very efficiently one handed and tried to hide my weak left arm by sitting my elbow on the desk or in my lap. If I answered the phone left handed I really knocked myself out putting the phone to my ear…

I had a colleague who had a son my age with MS, No! I don’t have MS (Multiple Sclerosis)

Honestly, I think that would be worse than what I have…

So, everyday Tony, my colleague would ask me if I’d seen my doctor yet?

What? I don’t have a doctor…

Actually I had a GP, whom I didn’t like much, so I got a new GP not long before and made a list.

On the bottom I said list was my left arm! I explained the occasional weakness that I’d had for years that came and went…

His response was immediate and he didn’t seem to need any further explanation.

He stated “Ok, let’s get a CT scan!”

I was a little surprised. Booked the appointment not knowing what to expect and went one morning on my way to work.

They injected ‘contrast’ into my arm and when I loaded myself up with all of my bags and carefully navigated the stairs to get back down to the ground floor. The technician watched me very carefully…

I could do stairs rather easily back then, but words from the wise, when the technician watches you like a hawk, he knows something already that you don’t know!

And it’s probably not good new…

Life Review

Published December 3, 2015 by helentastic67

Life Review 1

Life Review

So, I’m now at a time in my life where you take a little “stock” of what you (me in this case) of what I’ve achieved and tallied the successes I’ve celebrated.

Completely heightened by a recent 25 year High School reunion that I did attend.

The current Premier of Victoria, Daniel Andrews was from my High School and what I’ve managed to achieve in life doesn’t add up to much at all. Except to say I have survived.

I know I’ve yet to divulge what exactly my medical condition is or my disability and that has been on purpose.

Rest assured all shall soon be revealed.

So, stocktake, I guess I’ve always been a bit of a free-spirit. I had ideas of how I thought light might go, but perhaps not how I would get there.

When I was younger, I thought life would just naturally fall into place and perhaps this was what was meant to happen because I’m still here!

I honestly thought I’d be married with kids “living the dream” by 30.

I wanted to have my own business “something” in the realm of Interior Decoration.

I studied something else. I studied the one thing that would have been better if I’d been a gay man! Two things ‘I’m not!’ I studied Visual merchandising (Window dressing).

It did teach me, I would not cut it with technical drawing.

And the whole married with kid’s thing, well in recent years, I’ve learnt that my medical condition, pregnancy could have been deadly.

Alas, I also did not meet my ‘husband’.

Here’s hoping – yet!

Friends of yesteryear and I would joke – he was lost!

But anyway, not doing this blog to find a husband…

But still assessing what the rest of life should include…

I do not work. All the things I have done for income in the past, I can no longer do and the NDIS would see us all being able to work again.

It’s a nice dream however, I struggle to get out of bed every day! And I struggle to stay out of bed every day!

The aim every day is to make it to the end of the day and not fall over! To still feel the parts of my body I make work that only work because I make them…

And to make it to the next day!

Life seems small these days!

I get to appointments that help me live. I create social connections at these appointments because over time they have gotten to know me and who I used to be…

But rest assured if I didn’t pay for services at those places, they would not have the time to be ‘friends’ with me outside of “work”.

So to the future, it’s a work in progress and please join me on the adventure…

NDIS

Published November 28, 2015 by helentastic67

NDIS

Some people are generally concerned the NDIS won’t help them. I have some concerns as for the 8-9 years I’ve had my more severe symptoms of my disability, I’ve been told by everyone I speak to that, the NDIS will help me!

So the NDIS has been like a light at the end of the tunnel. A promise, if you like that things/life will get easier. Because I’ve had no funding, I’ve had to do things that my carers have told me is tragic/sad so I can still enjoy the good things in life.

So, this is a good tip for all those people who have had funding and have been able to be comfortable with life. And who are now looking at having my reality.

The classic cup of tea.

You get 2 teabags and 3 mugs, you heard me!

Your first 2 cups of tea I recommend don’t make them so strong the teaspoon can stand up in and put both teabags into the third mug for your third cup of tea.

If you do it properly the third cup of tea, will be just as good as the two proceeding.

I like my tea strong with a tiny teaspoon of mild so it looks more like coffee, with just a smidge of sugar…

If I plan it just right I have that third cup of tea in the morning when any tea will do and you ain’t so fussy.

For me the little things have been important…

So after years of crappy housemates I prioritize living alone, I prioritize not living so far from the city.

I still prioritize eating, turning the light on and occasionally, I have someone walk into a room and announce that the NDIS won’t help them at all.

So I asked this woman “What do you mean?”

She repeated her first statement like that helped at all…………

God help me!

So I decided to unpack it for her…………

I informed her, she would still get her pension from Centrelink. It would not be one or the other.

Then I questioned her.

“Do you need any carers to live your life?”

“No.”

“Do you need any support?”

“No.”

“You don’t pay rent?”

I’m not sure I asked this but I presume her father doesn’t charge her rent.

“And you work right?”

She said she could work more, but her neuropsych stated she was unable.

And finally I put my old hat on from my days working for the NGO…..

Her next answer surprised me.

“Well I’ve got the investment property in Brunswick.”

To which I informed her the NDIS was not for her!

Confession Time

Published November 28, 2015 by helentastic67

Confession

Confession Time

OK! Something you should know about me. I’m grumpy! I admit it! I get really grumpy! It’s been coming on more and more in recent years. Since acquiring my disability, obviously, but every now and again the “Grumpiness” gets turned up a notch.

I have no patience for whiny – little – bitches. You know the ones, I can’t even watch some reality TV shows anymore.

“It’s too hard!”

“It hurts!”

“It hurts me to move!”

“I can’t wear what I want!”

“Take a deep breath sweetie!”

“Skinny jeans aren’t for everyone!”

I haven’t even tried to put on jeans for about 4 years. Doing jeans up one handed is a pain in the arse! Particularly if you need to get to the toilet in a hurry.

But it’s more a grumpiness because plenty of people with real problems don’t do enough to help themselves and they want everyone to rescue them.

Sometimes, it’s a conscious decision about accepting that I’ve been dealt a shitty situation and I’ve just got to deal with the consequences so how do I do that?

Oh and people don’t like to hear advice from me and when they complain about the same old things I reign in the obvious tips because they didn’t get it the last 3 times I suggested it!

I’m done!

Grumpy rant over!

My Left Arm Doesn’t Work

Published November 28, 2015 by helentastic67

Every day, there’s something new to detest about having a disability. There’s just different ways with how to deal (or not) with how it affects you mentally.

As yet, I haven’t told you what my disability is, I know Soz Bro (my carer gave me this one today) but to give you an idea. My left arm does not work. I’ve lost my eyesight and about 5 shitty things later, I also suffer anxiety and depression. They weren’t first but to be clear they don’t help!

So the situation looks like this, I work on my left arm and hand all the time. All the time, when I’m sitting on the couch, on the tram, lying in bed trying to sleep.

ALL THE TIME! When I’m anxious. I also out of habit use my nails too long so I do my absolute best to trim them so I don’t scratch my good hand while I try to exercise my bad hand…

My carer has recently commented I have very short nail beds on my left hand.

I thought about this overnight and realised sometimes when the beautician files those nails to clean up the mess I’ve created, they hurt and I realise I can feel them…

So this gets to my point – finally. I can’t tell that I’m hurting myself when I trim my own finger nails!

I was a nail biter for my first 34 years! And it’s another story for another day. But my point right now is back then I NEVER BITE MY NAILS SO BADLY I COULDN’T FEEL IT!