File Under Apartment Living

Published February 4, 2019 by helentastic67

Apartment Living

I was talking to my mum on the phone, the balcony door was closed, the only window open in the study (the second bedroom) and my mum says to me;

On the Phone

“Can you turn that down?”

Turn that down

I don’t know if I’ve mention, but I do all calls at home on speaker phone, in case I need to pick up a pen or I multitask doing “something”.

Multitasking

I told her I couldn’t turn it down as it was a motorcycle.

Motorcycle

What was I meant to do? Go out onto the balcony and scream out

Scream turn it down

“Hey you, MUM SAID TURN IT DOWN!”

That would go down well wouldn’t it?

Ba Hum Bug.

bah-humbug

Life One Handed – Part 1

Published February 1, 2019 by helentastic67

lifeonehanded1

Life One Handed Part 1

On a very rare occasion a person carer will have her hands full and doing something to help me with ‘whatever’ and they will say to me “I had the experience of what it must be for you one handed”.

experienceonehanded

Sometimes, it’s not even a comment but a shared look and I will give them a murmur of aging with them and respond “Sucks doesn’t it”

Sucks Doesn't it

Because while they have that brief shared experience with me, I live it every single day. There is no ‘freeing up a hand, there is no break or holiday’

livingwithit

It’s all the friggin time. Ad nauseum.

adnauseum

I guess I should point out it is even more frustrating watching someone struggle to do something with two hands, that I can do very easily with on one hand.

Struggling with 2 hands

I had a young carer once who I gave the task to go hang out some bath mats on the line and on a clothes rack. I gave her the small clothes rack and she commented how much she hated them.

clothesrack

I waited a moment to witness her hold one rail in a hand and fling it around a bit. I don’t know what she was expecting to happen, but she seemed to be having a very hard time. Like she was having a fit. No, really!

I walked away because I couldn’t just stand and watch. I also had to let her wear herself out. Because, I also needed to use “words” to describe to her how to do it.

nowords1

In the end she got there, but it seriously would have been easier had she given it back to me to do. I’m not saying it was the nail in the coffin for that carer to not return to me, it wasn’t, but it didn’t help.

nailinthecoffin

So great was my frustration.

frustraion

Blunt

Published January 28, 2019 by helentastic67

blunt

Blunt

I have been told I’m very blunt, admittedly I’ve been told many things and blunt is a bit of a compliment.

compliment

Today, as my case manager and I walked back from the chemist to a quick shop at my very local supermarket, I asked him to follow-up on a ‘chore’ I’ve not had any success with. He went to ‘put it in his diary’ to do later.

to do list

I’m just saying why put off for later if you can do it now?

do today

So I gave him my mobile phone and directed him to search “XYZ” so he could do it as we walked. He prompted “Do you have enough credit?”

do you have enough credit

“Luv!”

He is a sweet young guy man, but I call everyone “Luv” these days (I’m 45 years old)

sweet young guy

“I pay enough on my phone account so we never have to have this fucking conversation again”

not having convo

And we are not 12!

He complemented me on my bluntness as we both laughed.

like being blunt

I confess I do love being blunt.

Italian Helen

Published January 25, 2019 by helentastic67

italian helen

Italian Helen

This morning while getting ready to go out, I swear there were about four ideas for posts in my head. I have an extra appointment in Cliffy Hill today, so I’ve come early for an extra lunch this week at my favourite café and while I’ve extra time, all my ideas disappeared.

good ideas

Ah, I should start all my posts with thought of my mind is a sieve (it has holes in it) because they then all come flooding back.

I thought it was high time I unpacked my Italian part.

italian heritage

If you haven’t read my “About” page, it may be mentioned there. My father came to Australia when he was only 4 years old, way back in about 1952. The ship my father and many other immigrants travelled here on, I recently learnt was called the Sorrento and I understand now why other Italians call their businesses something with Sorrento in their names. A supermarket back in Clifton Hill is the flower of Sorrento.

Dad Arrives by ship

The journey took 4 weeks. Shorter than I imagined but as a 4-year-old I’m sure it seemed to take for ever.

His father came out some years earlier to pave the way for his family to join him. He worked on the railways, building the train tracks and would send his wages back to Italy to his wife. Every so often, he would travel back to Italy on a ship to see his wife, meet his new son, knock up (that means impregnate) his wife, then get on a boat back to Australia.

worked on railways 1

He readied a home here in the country (where I’m from). So it was all ready for his wife and children to join him.

readied home

My father, the youngest was four years old and he had never even met him. I imagine my dad a little boy at a wharf in Melbourne, holding all his worldly possessions in a small suitcase. My grandparents both worked in factories. The two factories in town made fabric and wool, neither learned English.

arrive by ship

I think it was a generational thing that they worked in factories, stayed amongst their own (Italians with Italians, Greeks with Greeks etc) and because they really had no opportunities to socialize with Aussies, they didn’t learn. Whereas the three sons went to school here and had to learn. As a youngster, my older sister and I would tease my dad about his terrible spelling. He thought bath was spelt ‘Barth’. There is no silent ‘R’ in Bath.

going to school

Apparently, he used to duck his head down in the classroom so the teacher didn’t call on him. My father didn’t do too badly however. While his two older brothers both worked in the factories also (one worked driving trucks for many years, but eventually ended up in the factory also.)

Work in factories

My father worked as a chippy (that is the tradie name/term for Builder or Carpenter). I learned very little if any Italian from my father. As a child, visits to my Italian grandparents resulted in my cheeks being pinched. Sweet Jesus! If you tried to hide them from Nona, she would pinch your butt cheeks instead. You just couldn’t win.

nona pinch cheeks

When visiting them, we would walk down the driveway and while the men would stay outside and chat about the grapevines over the roof of the trellis beside the garage and the vegetable garden. There was almost more vegetable garden than lawn in the backyard. Nona would take my older sister inside, open the fridge door and motion to the bottles of Loy’s soft drinks. Every colour was on offer.

vegetable garden 1

My sister liked Creamy Soda or Portello and I preferred Lime, but we were raised to have whatever was open. Nona would beckon us to just choose and it didn’t matter with very little English, it was easy to communicate. In very simple terms, Nona wanted to feed you and love you. So, food and cuddles.

nonas fridge

I know my mum would stay with my father, but because my father spoke only Italian to his father and didn’t make an effort to translate or include her, her resentment has stemmed from here.

Guess I should confess, my older sister and I attended Italian classes when I was about seven. I also did a class in high school as a compulsory subject, when I was about thirteen. Not much stuck. I can count from one to ten at a push to twenty and a few other things.

italian class

My twenty’s and thirty’s I spent more time meeting other wogs who would greet me in Italian, I would quickly point out politely I didn’t speak the language and then explain ‘I know a few words’. It was always assumed I know the swear word and I only learnt a few of those when I worked in my first administration job, where my superior was a grumpy ex-sous chef, who thought I was a disgrace to my heritage.

speak italian

So, in front of an all-male (all wog) group of our clients he would say things like ‘Oh what a misery’ (that was easy to work out) and he had a preference for saying ‘Che fa’ (I hope it’s realised Che fa sounds conveniently like “Get fucked?”) which eventually on a day he used it a lot I eventually called him on it. (his over use of the words) Yeah, yeah, we get it. You are not really asking ‘What the?’ but playing on the fact it sounds remarkably like (my favourite words) Something arse…

che fa

I appreciate my grandfather sacrificing seeing his boys grow up to come here to build something for their future. And even that immigrants these days come to Australia for a better life.

better life

I think every generation of immigrants that have made Australia their home have bought a little of their culture with them to enrich our lifestyle with theirs. Not always good, sure. But food culture especially. Better!

food culture

Today’s Lunch – 23rd January 2019

Published January 23, 2019 by helentastic67

todays lunch

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

Well, sadly I’m not at my favourite cafe today. I’m at an old haunt for a BBQ for a Brain Injury group I’m connected to called United Brains. Although apart from those beautiful, beautiful words (ok, acronym) the Great Aussie BBQ! I do get to see some old familiar faces I’ve not seen for a while and before I show you some photos of today’s lunch, here’s some pictures from my exciting Ladies Adventure Day on Monday. A friend and I went and scooped up Caroline my masseuse on the way South! We literally kidnapped her for a day of, what I prefer to call “Eat! Eat! Eat! (Take a few photos) and get a little burnt day.

united brains

Our destination was the Mornington Peninsula, first to Dromana where we ate fish and chips on the foreshore, got a little wind-burnt after about 20 minutes. Before moving to lie on our towels, not on the beach but under a nice tree in some shade. Getting up was lots of fun, my knees finding every single twig and stick my towel had covered with the kind assist of my 2 lady friends they hoiked me upright.

fish and chips

lying under tree

Did the sightseeing tour along the coast through Mount Martha to Mornington and despite the ladies calling from behind me to “wait up” and that we had just walked past a gelato shop, I powered ahead not preparing to change course from my destination. Found my preferred location for both ice cream to die for and coffee (to die for) just next door the ladies understood my mission to get to this particular ice creamery. I’ve only been once before, but I got my usual chocolate, Tiramasu’s you and lemon. The chocolate was really dark and rather than sickly sweet you could taste the cocoa. Tiramasu’s? Mmmmmmmmmmm, do I need to say more? And the lemon finishes it off with a little tartness! Then medicine.

ice cream shop

ice cream

I don’t get to have holidays and such so a nice lady’s day away was just what Helen ordered!
Hope you enjoy the photos!

mornington beach 1

beach 2 beach 3

And then today’s lunch……..
Some bread with a snag & sauce, a hamburger & sauce. Some salads. So, typically good fair.
I did have some medicine but it’s gone already. Strong & sweet is what you get here.

bbq

latte

Cheers,
H

Toot

Published January 21, 2019 by helentastic67

toot

Toot

As you may recall the last place, I lived I was in a unit, I was the front unit in a small block of three. What was so good about it was that apart from feeling like I lived in a house, complete with three bedrooms, a real laundry, a small backyard and a linen cupboard. But what was particularly good was I had street frontage.

street frontage 1

I could sit on my couch and see when the landlady came down with her secateurs and dead headed the roses. I could see people walk their dog’s past and stop to smell the roses. Part of the reason why I never picked the roses to bring them inside was because I could watch people appreciate them, from my couch and it also meant I discovered my garden hose cut by something sharp, I could tell it was likely my landlady who was insisted I not use the garden tap, telling me they paid for it.

smell the roses

Ironic, I don’t miss her and her ‘Handsy’ husband. However, the point being, is that when I had the CBF’s (Can’t be Fucked) to leave the house, I would stay in bed, but look out the window and see that I wasn’t alone, even if I didn’t want to go out and be a part of the world.

cbf

I remember a downside was the 50 something, man child who still lived at home, who parked outside my bedroom window. About six metres from my window and across the front lawn. The footpath, then the nature strip. (But still) and he would go out to warm his engine at 6am every friggin morning and he wouldn’t do it once, but several times. Every morning. I wanted to scream at him.

man child

“Dude! Your car is old, but it’s not vintage” now you know said ‘Man-Child’ was Greek. Because they are.

old car parking

But the main cool thing about having a street frontage was that most days there would be a car that drove past and tooted. Now, I didn’t know who was doing the tooting for ages and having lived in Clifton Hill years ago, opposite some low-rise Public Housing (don’t start me). Apparently, the norm is when visiting someone in Public Housing, you pull up in your car out front and toot your horn. None of this getting out, going in and using the doorbell. Don’t be ridiculous.

honking

So, I had presumed (note: Avoidance of the word assume) that some lazy ass was saying hello to the wogs across the street without stopping.

lazy ass

It was a very fair assessment, trust me. So, the tooting horn continued, I have to give it to my carers who seemed to appreciate my frustration.

frustration

Until one day, I mentioned it to Aunty Christine and she growled at me “THAT’S ME”. What? Apparently, Aunty Christine would go past and toot a hello every other day, would have been helpful if I’d known this.

thats me

From then on, when I’d hear it, I’d turn to my carer in residence and point outside to say ‘That’s Aunty Christine’. Sometimes, she would later report a guy across the street looking strangely at her ass she drove past. So, she would just give them a dismissive wave. As if they were meant to know she was doing the 5 quick toot salute to Helen? Priceless.

dismissive wave

The downside is I now live on a very busy corner in an apartment and no more tooting.

no more tooting

Tram Stop

Published January 18, 2019 by helentastic67

Tram Stop

I was standing at the tram stop the other day when waiting for a tram. In a perfect world every tram would be a flatbed tram (that’s accessible) and one pulled to a stop, but the doors didn’t open.

One of the other two women mentioned the tram stated it was not in service, I hadn’t noticed. I claimed poor eyesight and the other woman mentioned she’d broken her ankle at Christmas. Broken ankle lady stated she was doing a Masters in the effects of Social Media and the internet on society (I think). I got my phone out of my bag and looked at it. My phone apart from driving all the amazing things like text, phone, cull emails while out and countless other things. It is my watch, because I don’t have one.

I briefly looked at my phone then up and way down in to the distance, I saw a tram and commented that one was coming. Broken ankle/Masters degree looked at me and asked if I’d ‘Looked it up?’ I said I hadn’t but I had ‘Looked up’ and she told me I’d made a joke.

Even more amusing, was that Masters was older than I am, so she remembered a time without internet/computers and socializing online better than I do. So, for once I didn’t feel like the old one.

Today’s Lunch – 16th January 2019

Published January 16, 2019 by helentastic67

todays lunch

Today’s Lunch

Well, I’ve survived another Christmas holiday period when my favourite cafe closes down and while I could go to dozens of cafes closer to home nobody looks after me like the place I’ve been going with regularity for 10 years and I think the regular staff might not have remembered me from before I developed my disabilities, but they certainly treat me like I’m a normal person and well, not asking questions of what I did to my arm, etc. It’s great to be back!

surviving christmas

I’ve already been a little busy organising things to run smoothly for the rest of the year. Chasing up Botox referrals and my new NDIS plan! YES! It’s been approved! I should have it by Christmas 2018, they said, my backside! It was approved January 10th and even that small delay pushes everything back including requests for carers and services. It all counts. January seems to be a time not worth trying to achieve much as most of everywhere I need to deal with to get anything achieved is still in holiday-mode, or still on holidays. Might as well have a stay-a-way too.

everyones on holidays

By now, you likely all realise how bad my sleeping pattern is? If not, you are about to. Tuesday morning I’d just gotten to bed around 2.30am, took a while to get to sleep and around 3.30am heard increasingly off-putting sounds from Mika. When I went to bed Mika curled up against my leg on top of the blanket purring. So happy! 3.30am? Growling, hissing, smells (you know the ones) and at first all I could think was, “where would she find another cat to be growling at?” I got up to investigate.

sleeping pattern

It was hot! Did I mention we are in peak summer? Every day hot! Even over night! I called Mika’s name and closed the door to the study. She considers it her room. I move around inside without needing to turn on a light. There is enough coming in from the street. I don’t close my blinds. I see Mika standing at the glass balcony door. She is growling. What the? Looking out onto the balcony amongst the jungle of my plants, I spy a slim long-haired black cat. It sees me and scrambles up onto my large potted curry plant. It wriggles through the 2.5-inch gap and is gone. OMG!

balconey garden calla lilly

I have mentioned I live on the second floor, haven’t I?

Not happy Jan.

Mika hasn’t been let out onto my balcony despite her curiosity at the water running across the tiles, from watering the plants. I would net the balcony if it weren’t for the expensive, and the promise to ‘make-good’ when I vacate and the drama of getting the body Corp to agree to let me net the balcony. Easier to not let Mika outside. She manages to have a view from the windows and there is fly-wire screens so can’t get out. She chases the little sun to get her vitamin D! Cats do have their priorities after all.

black cat

Now, time for eating and writing. I’m way behind on writing. Today’s offerings are, the chicken and turmeric salad & my standard medicine.
Nom! Nom! Nom! Nom!

chicken and tumeric latte

Cheers

NDIS

Published January 14, 2019 by helentastic67

ndis 1

NDIS

One of these days Alice! One of these days! One of my work colleagues (still a friend) from fifteen years ago, used to say that to me all the time when I was giving him a bit of SASS.

one of these days alice

What can I say? I refer to him as my Gay Silver Fox.

grey silver fox

Anyway, I digress.

One of theses days I want to be able to tell someone how amazing it is to have the NDIS. If your new to my blog, National Disability Insurance Scheme.

how great is the ndis

I don’t want to utter the words. It’s an absolute shitstorm of red tape and the goal posts moving and it’s a friggin’ nightmare.

Why is it so hard?

Should point out the NDIS is the ONLY FUNDING I’ve had.

Wait, I had some one-off funding of $9,000 about five years ago, which is how I bought my laptop, iPad and iPhone and a number of other things.

ipad

When you first get given that kind of funding and a time limit of six months to spend it. (it must be spent on disability related such and such) You struggle to imagine how you will use it all.

funding

But, nailed it, I did.

nailed it

But, seriously the NDIS!!!

seriously ndis

Junkies

Published January 11, 2019 by helentastic67

Junkies

Today I thought I’d have a bit of a grumpy rant about Junkies and I’ll premise this post by quoting Russell Brand when he appeared on Alan Carr’s Grand National Spectacular.

If you are not familiar with his show, he’s from the UK and he’s night time show is similar to the American late-night shows and he starts the show offering his guest a beverage that he throws together at his drinks tray.

Now, Russell Brand has very publicly quit all of his bad habits and advocated to Governments about the problems of living as a heroin junky and such.

So, there is that awkward moment where Alan Carr turns to his guest and prompts him with a “Oh, now you have a problem with…..?” Bit of an open-ended question. Very awkward.

But rather brilliantly, Russell Brand responds with “I didn’t have a problem with drugs and alcohol” “I had a problem dealing with Life Problems” and I find that I greatly admire Russell Brand for that infinite wisdom.

So, it’s with infinite annoyance as not having a problem “dealing with life/pills/drugs/alcohol” that when I went to the chemist a month ago to get my over the counter packet of Panadeine, side bar, Panadeine, pretty low on Opiate list and it takes me months to get through a packet of 24, as I skip out my Panadol (very low grade opiate) for period pain as I’m not allowed to have blood thinners.

NO MORE NAPROGESIC or as one pharmacist I have known call them the “Special Blue Pill, that stop us killing men” once at the chemist, I was informed I now needed a script for Panadeine.

Damn Junkies

Of course, the pharmacist came over and in front of the regular chic, I mostly get to see at the chemist, comes over to recommend another option off the shelf. I mention I can’t do blood thinners and when anyone starts mentioning Codeine and “whatever” my eyes glaze over.

I mention my baseline pain management is Panamax and that during my crazy-lady hormone time I swap out the Panamax for Panadeine. But I’ll get a script and this month I’ll hit it with some Oxy norm (5mg high on the Opiate family tree, but only takes the edge off serious pain for me for three hours).

The regular woman immediately laughed appreciating my humour. The pharmacist looked somewhat concerned and I think I only got exempted from a lecture about being careful etc, because the other lady laughed.

And I got a script.

I returned to the chemist a week later with said script and was informed there was a problem at the manufacturers, so no appropriate pain relief again.

I gave it a rest for a few weeks before revisiting the chemist, only to be informed the script was rendered useless, because they had discontinued. I was offered other, other options and codeine and other words were bandied about. (My brain just goes to sleep)

I don’t want to have to think about other options, I can’t do blood thinners. Why do I keep having to have the same conversation?

Fine! I’ll go home and hit my pain with some (Oxy norm) and a sledge hammer.

Apparently now, I can get Panadeine Extra and guess what I need, a different script. FARK!!!

Luckily, I book my GP every four to six weeks and even if I rang him, he would happily send me a script. But my point is, JUNKIES and their inability to deal with life (thanks Russell Brand) I had to jump through hoops to get.

Furthermore, ironically when I started writing this post a week ago, in the back room of my favourite café, where I overhear the usual first world problems.

Three older ladies at a table beside me were discussing their ‘Problem Child’. The way she was speaking, I imagined said child to be around seven and maybe on the Autism Spectrum? I imagine Autism to be diagnosed earlier than that and I also imagine this woman to be too old to have seven-year-old. Not being “Ageist” but also imagined she was talking about a grandchild, because there was a slight sense of ‘distance’ in how she was discussing the ‘issue’.

So, write busy, eating, drinking and writing several pages of this post, I soaked up the conversation around me and managed not to react. (I’ve been accused at work years ago of having Dumbo Ears. Well, in my defence you do learn by osmosis in some work environments)

So, the problem child, I’ll give it to you straight, seventeen years old, male, addicted to gaming. Um? Yes, it’s an addiction when you have to have your internet cut off at midnight so your teenage kids sleep. Sure, but seventeen-year-old boy.

Poor kid, was getting slammed for doing what a lot of teenage boys (sometimes grown men) do for oddly, their social down time.

So, yeah, also my eye rolls that this mum was putting her son’s addiction to computer games in the same league as Heroin.

I have two words for how to snap teenagers out of their habits of too much gaming. Adult diapers. That should snap them right out of it, no.

Oddly having struggled to get any sugar from the sugar dispenser, I had helped myself to sugar from the ladies table, I had struggled so much, I gave up.

I couldn’t be bothered asking for their help so had given up, eventually, Gabriella came to clear the tables and I mentioned the sugar bottle being blocked and I asked the ladies beside me if they had trouble with getting any sugar? I was informed they hadn’t even used the sugar and the look I received as if I had a ‘Problem’ with sugar. I have half a teaspoon, hardly a problem.

“Several months later I am horrified to realise the solution now called Panadeine Extra, comes in a 24 packet and costs me $16 and I use half of this over a 3-day time frame.

My other scripts only cost me $6.50 each. And then there’s everything else I take to keep me healthy I pay out of pocket, that I can’t get on a script.

I am aware this sounds like first world problems but I don’t have the option to not get medications and vitamins and the like. These things keep me healthy. Keeping healthy keeps a roof over my head and my independence. That’s how I deal with life issues!