What’s Your Budget?

Published July 19, 2019 by helentastic67

 

What’s Your Budget?

This might be one of my most hated questions. Particularly now when I don’t work and have little or no ability to increase the cash-flow coming in. I think I hate it more than the ‘What have you done to your arm?’ (because I’m so immune to that one now)

When I recently went to Freedom Furniture to assess the new couch scenario and the younger gay guy asked me my budget. I’ve never worked within a budget as such. I’m more of a I need this (XYZ) it costs (XYZ) how do I make this happen? What do I love without? Can I save for it? Or lay-by it?

On the upside, I’m not an idiot, I will not do that financial trap of “Buy now and don’t pay any interest, pay it off over the next five years.”

No. No. No. Abort. Abort. Never. Never.

So, my answer to the salesperson was; any amount I can realistically ask from my father without him having a stroke.

So he walked me over to the cheaper end of the showroom. Hey! I’ve got this arm already, great. That’s rather telling isn’t it?

I should mention I upgraded my arm when I had some one-off funding and getting a two-seater with a chase haunt in the hot summer days, it was long enough for me to lie down on in the lounge with the AC on, so I could sleep.

These days, living in an apartment now, I have two bedrooms. I could live without a spare bedroom since I don’t often have guests anymore, but I couldn’t live without my study.

The definition of a study if based on my study is ‘a room for a desk, bookcase, filing cabinets and where things get stored.

So, these days if guests stay, they sleep on my couch and that definitely seems it’s got to be wide and long enough to be comfortable.

 

Today’s Lunch – 17th July 2019

Published July 17, 2019 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

I actually had a nice lunch here yesterday on my own. Even did some writing, catching up on the back log. Had two appointments with two different GP’s, so got to have lunch in between.

Monday, I learnt what the financial value is of my time to sit on a committee board as a consumer of public health. I do some voluntary efforts. Some, monthly meetings, locally a bi-monthly meeting all to contribute to offering feedback and ideas on how my experiences can improve other people’s ability to use or access the system we all have access to. There’s plenty of emails, phone calls and politics at times. And none of it paid.

It’s considered we all do it for the love of it, it sometimes it all has its own rewards, like when I got to go to a dinner at Government House a few weeks ago. But nothing helps put food on the table better than cold hard cash! So, for a 3-hour gig I have been told my time is worth $40. Might be having a Naomi Campbell moment but I’m considering setting the standard of not getting out of bed for less than $100. What’s say you?

Meanwhile, today’s lunch consists of a Pumpkin & Spinach Arancini, with side salad and today my medicine is complimentary and comes with a chocolate macaron.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But today I was introduced to my chiropractor’s new resident Enzo. So coot!

Dad

Published July 15, 2019 by helentastic67

Dad

I rang my dad last week. Oh? You may wonder where this is going. It’s not going anywhere you imagine. Just trust me.

I rang him, he never rings me. He is my Italian parent, if you recall and it is fifty minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

The first five minutes he starts with ‘oh, I don’t know if you know/I don’t know if I told you?’ and I have to be rude and interrupt him to remind him, I saw him at Christmas and he has Sciatica and his left leg hurts.

Yes. Then he’s confused and surprised I am aware. A bit of extra information re my Pa, is that he was a builder all his life, he retired a little early, due to having bowel cancer. Don’t stress, he had chemo and radiation, he beat it.

NOT COMPLAINING

Then he got/had bladder cancer. (at least he is consistent, same are of the body) and he’s beaten that (again not complaining).

While he hasn’t got dementia, he is seventy-years old, I think undiagnosed, he may have had a series of heart attacks and strokes or just a bit of ‘brain-faze’ from all his treatments. Relax, he’s cancer free.

In reality, with his very serious dedication to smoking, cancer may eventually be his downfall, but he will not go down without a fight. But right now, he’s doing everything he can to complain about everything and not listen to anything I have to say to help.

Anyway, I digress, he then went into a rant about he would do anything to not have to use a walking stick to get around and how hard it is when half your body doesn’t work.

Oh my God, when he uttered those words and he could not be interrupted because he was not done. So, if you can’t feel my eyeroll and if I’d been there, he would have received a sever bitch slap (or a back hander).

He was so severely oblivious to who had had just made that comment to, I decided to give him one of my classic Helen lines.

“Shut the fuck up”

He actually stopped talking (I was impressed). Now, you may think that is the rudest thing and completely disrespectful to speak to one’s father that way. But, however, I will say that to my mother and she does. So, I should be able to say it to my father.

I love both my parents; I just love them differently and I deal with them both as sternly as they each need and can take.

Honestly, I am much tougher with my mum because if I don’t pull her into line no one will and on somethings she will never change, so I’ve learned to let it go. I guess I’ve learned to choose my battles there also.

Ah, the fifty minutes I said I’d never get back, yes! My father, at 70 decided to get a smart phone! His first smart phone and likely his first taste of the internet!

And I proceeded to help-desk him through how to use his search engine! “Dad, just put your finger in the white bar up the top!” And he grumbles the (and I stress) “typewriter” has gone away!” God help me! “Just tap in the white bar dad and the keyboard will appear!”

And fifty fucking minutes later! KMKMKMKM!!!!!!!(Kill Me!) That was the fifty fucking minutes of my life I will never get back! And I’m not even the Samsung daughter! I’m the Apple daughter!

 

And hit Like!

 

Sisters

Published July 12, 2019 by helentastic67

Sisters

So, this will be a totally rare time I include the name of a business/company/service, I currently use. You will notice I don’t ever mention the name of my favourite café? Yeah, most of my followers are on foreign soil, so it’s irrelevant, but sometimes it’s hard enough to get a seat as is. That’s the only reason why though.

So, today I will mention one of the Care Providers I use, same reason as above, but it’s relevant to the story. This is also a likely example of how life has a tendency to go in full circles.

Ok, Circa 90’s when I worked in clubs with Malcolm (you can read about him here)

https://hellonwheelslifeonehanded.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/gdg-grand-daddy-goth/

He had (just like any DJ of that era) Yes, Yes what was generally referred to as a toilet song. You hear a certain song come on. Don’t get in a DJ’s way. It’s usually a rather long song/track that is long enough to get to the toilet, the bar and back to the DJ’s booth.

It was usually this one

My Carers come from Mercy Health. They manage the homes where all the retired nuns live. There is a women’s hospital (Mercy Health).

I am by all means not suggesting they are the best, but I’m never going to bother mentioning the ONLY agency that didn’t ask for me to participate in the regular NDIA audit and provide feedback about their services. Am I correct?

So, anyway, my carer today was telling me where she had to go after me. Most of my carers visit the nuns. I hear about it all the time.

So, my carer today said she was going off to the Sisters of Mercy and everything after that went straight over my head.

Back in the 90’s when I worked in clubs, I was NOT GOTHIC. But sometimes, I wore more, shall I say, socially acceptable styles to not ‘offend’ the Goths. There was always a boy with this…..

It was the era after all and sometimes I would just outright wear my dungarees (because they were light and comfy) and other times I wore my bright coloured raver street wear.

I miss those days.

However, The Sisters of Mercy (the band not the nuns.) is touring later in the year. I’m debating about seeing them. The play at The Forum, two days after my birthday.

Today’s Lunch – 10th July 2019

Published July 10, 2019 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

This week! God help me! For a single barren spinster, there are no bigger words to put the fear of God into me than these “school holidays!”

Parents should be made to enjoy their time with their spawn at home in solitude or grandparents even. Totally getting why grandma had a happy hour. I am not a fan of school holidays. My ovaries dry up.

My girl Tuesday (support worker, one of my regulars) was in a lift in the city and suggested the lift should have music. I reminded her in a building full of people with disabilities and oxide sensitivities that would not go down well. So I proceeded to put this song in her head!

You are welcome!

Was in the city for the last two days, yesterday I didn’t leave until 4.30pm meaning I actually got home in the dark. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned? I can’t see in the dark and I then had to complete all my chores and some and didn’t sit down and take my shoes off until 8pm. Although thanks to my Indian taxi driver Young Deepak, I had eaten dinner by 9pm. He had given me a curry.

I didn’t actually eat lunch today but such an early dinner prompted me to ask Noelle, “is this what it’s like to be old?” and Noelle is my age, so misplaced that it was.

Looking forward to lunch today, an almond croissant and my medicine!

 

Dreams

Published July 8, 2019 by helentastic67

Dreams

I had a dream yesterday; well I dream a lot. But mostly I have weird dreams where 3 or 4 crazy things are smashed into.

I dream, it usually includes house that are apparently my home, there is definitely a feeling of this is my home to it, but they are places I don’t recognise, in area’s that remind me of the 90’s, my earlier days but yet not in areas I would live in now.

At such times the details are insane, a door handle that isn’t working properly, reminds me of houses I have lived in. Opening a door to the outside and seeing an abundance of plants hanging from the eaves with bright red tomatoes in abundance. Then my sister is there. Well, either of my sisters would be strange.

The other times I’M ON ROLLER SKATES. Anyone else having these dreams? Yeah, I did roller skate when I was a kid and I’ve a friend who does Roller Derby.

But my dream, I was roller skating around the city, around Federation Square and I had some speed, was cutting in and around people and not hitting anybody and still managing to stay upright.

HOW? I don’t know…

Then I got to the top of some stairs and I just flew down them, my wheels catching the platform in between the second drop of stairs and still UPRIGHT. People cheered!

I guess I am not prepared to try roller skating as I imagine I don’t need scrapes and wounds to add to my drama. But it was a nice dream with a feeling of freedom, success and achievement.

 

Sleep Clinic

Published July 5, 2019 by helentastic67

 

Sleep Clinic

A few months before Christmas, I had an appointment for a specialist clinic. It was the sleep clinic.

Never have two words put a greater fear into me. Well not fear perhaps, that’s exaggerating slightly, but still I sleep, I just sleep at the wrong times and I’ve just made it work and I don’t want to change.

The doctor told me he’d book me into the sleep clinic for a sleep-over. I was concerned I had sleep apnoea. (it’s not only when you snore, but when you stop breathing) I woke with my throat, glands in my neck and nose feeling kinda weird, sore and dry, plus a dream or two where I’ve felt like someone was choking me. So, sleep clinic good.

The doctor told me he wouldn’t get me in before Christmas, but maybe before Easter, which gives you an idea how much of a waiting list there was and also how he didn’t think I was going to be at a rick of dying before he would book me in. So, all was good.

Until, I got a call early December, they had a cancellation before Christmas, did I want to come in Early?

FYI: ALWAYS SAY YES!

So, I was booked in about a week before Christmas. I parked my laptop, took my overnight bag with my PJ’s and my toothbrush, my dinner and off I went. I caught the tram from my door and the extra baggage was pretty hardcore pulling me off balance, but nearly took me.

 

Today’s Lunch – 3rd July 2019

Published July 3, 2019 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

Why oh, why oh, why……must my brain hurt so very much? I seem to have two weeks of migraine-free before it returns for the other two weeks every month. I’m thinking it’s completely crazy-lady hormone related. Also have had a few way too busy weeks lately.

Thankfully, had a day at home yesterday and to come planning since it’s a bit on the nippy side in Melbourne.

Oh, here’s some good news, I received the results for a test. Negative, which is what you want in this case although I’ve never had a problem with my 2-yearly test and while at one point, my female GP who I see for this test only at one point used the words “I’ve lost my thing!” I informed her they were the words no-one wanted to hear and even better, this test is now only every 5 years. If anyone missed what I’m talking about? I’m talking about woman’s health. Friendly reminder, go get your pap smear.

Now back to normal programming. Today’s offering, it’s the breakfast of champions. A custard donut with medicine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had a rough start with my migraine. Breakfast was postponed. But here’s a little street art/graffiti close to where I get stabbed.

 

 

Cheers,
H

Sleep

Published July 1, 2019 by helentastic67

Sleep

I feel I’ve had a lifetime of sleep deficit, because I’m always trying to catch up. Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! Never enough, but it’s also somewhere (bed, anyway) where you think it’s the most comfortable place to be. Except if your only disability is depression. (Not discrediting the darkness is depression, however) Get up, move around.

So, for me going to bed to sleep is pure heaven, until, but wait.

For those older (I didn’t say old) I said older and more traditional stroke, it might require two people (cheers) to roll them over partway through the night. I can’t comment too much about that, as thankfully it hasn’t been my experience.

Early day’s I gave up my flannelette sheets, I think the first winter. HARSH. But necessary as I refused to give up my flannel PJ’s because when I rollover it’s like Velcro. The top sheet would get stuck to my PJ’s and covers would just go with me and a cool breeze would go down my back.

There was a lesson I learned pretty early on and I have only had to be reminded another two times. Try this, lie on your back and roll over to one side, as you do it, try to single out and remember all the parts of your body you utilize to roll over.

Now, what happens with your arms?

Allow me to tell you what happens with my left arm when I roll over, say to my right side, my left arm will fall behind my back, which is more than a little unpleasant. Because I can’t reach behind me to grab my left arm to pull it to the front. I literally have to roll back over onto my back, onto my arm even and I almost have to keep rolling to sit up over the edge of the bed to get my arm back in front of me.

Are you feeling my pain yet? No? Ok, let me next level it for you. In the early days of my disability, I fell over at the front of my house. My left foot got caught behind a post (a supporting post) of my front fence at the terrace house I was renting. I went down like a sack of (shit) potatoes and I smashed my head against the side of the wall and my left shoulder.

Behind me the screen door was closed, the front door open and down the hallway in the lounge was my mum. She heard the meowing I let out and came down, by the time she got to me, I had levered myself up onto the fence and noticed across the street, the creepy-but nice dude in the public housing flats on his balcony. He had seen me fall and I could tell he was concerned and was contemplating coming to help me. I gave him a wave to tell him I was OK. Mum appeared at the door “what have you done?” she demanded.

Have I mentioned my mum is NOT my Italian parent, yet this is how she responded, I know she cares and the noise I let out was just awful, pain and surprise, all rolled into one.

Now, in short, my left shoulder (to this day) mum is angry that it’s dislocated and no one wants to put it back in. Officially it’s not dislocated, but it kinda is. If I’d hit my right shoulder, it would be dislocated, but my left one has the muscle tone of an old worn elastic band. So, when I hit the wall it all just move and stretched.

Again, it’s not in its kind ‘out’ but can’t be put back ‘in’ because there is no muscle tone to hold it back in place. I’ve seen a private shoulder specialist who said he could ‘fix it’ (I imagine Frankenstein and bolts) but, he said I would have ‘other’ issues across my back.

So, when I ‘forget’ my arm, when I roll over and end up lying on it even briefly, it twists just a little in my shoulder, making it a little extra ‘special’.

Every single time I go to roll over to my right side, I grab my left arm at the wrist and bring that arm with me taking it in comfortably in front on me for safe-keeping.

Generally, every morning I’ll get a little bit of sleep on my left side and it’s very comfortable, well from the belly button down, my left arm I have to straight-jacket down my other arm so it doesn’t creep up every time I yawn.

Oh yeah that, when I yawn, it’s an involuntary thing, all the muscles in my face (cheek) neck, shoulder all tighten up and my left arm comes up,  my hand flares open and it is kinda weird, but I digress, when I even briefly sleep on my left shoulder when I get up and sit on the edge of the bad, I have my left shoulder click back into place.

So sleep Blessed sleep Yeah.

And don’t forget the T.O.S. (Thorasic Outlet Syndrome)

I generally wake up several times each night with a numb right hand or pins and needles, which is part of Carpel Tunnel Syndrome and it takes a bit of upright and moving around to have these symptoms to disappear. But it’s just another thing to add to the list.

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Apartment Living Past

Published June 28, 2019 by helentastic67

Apartment Living Past

Definitely time to throw in a post about apartment living. Late 2017 I moved into an apartment. It’s my fourth move since my diagnosis back in 2007. While I’ve not done any big distances between each place I’ve lived, this is the most ‘new-build’ I’ve ever been in. The last place was a unit, my address was Unit 1 at 111. No really, it was a great number to live in. It was only two minutes drive from where I now reside. That move was prompted by ‘sleazy’ landlord concerns. Because he just didn’t get it, he could not put his hands ‘ON’ me and tell me he loved me and wanted to have sex with me.

Did you, just throw up a little in your mouth? Exactly! So, I digress, apologies.

Apartment Living.

I have a carer every morning, maybe only for an hour, to an hour and a half and I keep them busy with tasks while I’m in the shower, doing a few dishes, putting buckets of water out on the balcony for my plants or taking down my rubbish and recycling. On Sunday morning my carer came into the bathroom and I polished a circle near my face on the shower screen door, so she could see my face.

 

This is what I said to her; “While you were out, I TOOK a call from S blocks that way. Stop slamming the door” She asked if I’d really received a call?

The apartment doors are rather heavy, I guess it’s for good security and sound proofing. I can’t hear what’s happening next door. Well, they might hear me, but my surround sound died, so it may no longer be an issue for them. But I often hear laughing and people running past my door to the lift and I really wish they would stop.