Birthday Sucked as Predicted

Published November 8, 2026 by helentastic67

As predicted this year’s birthday was less than spectacular. I need you to know how terrible it will actually be every year but know I will be underwhelmed. The terrible started the day before on the Tuesday, my birthday landing this year on a Wednesday. I had the first meeting for my local councils new DAC. (Disability Advisory Committee.) You know it’s not called that now; I don’t know what it will be called. But some years ago, in the last thirteen years I think I’ve been attached to the group they decided to break down all the fun accessibility words like Access and Inclusion, Cultural Diversity, Indigenous and the other things into separate groups. Because it always helps to create a safe place for these groups individually and when you expect them to get long out in the real world, do I need to finish this train of thought.

So, I was all about to go out to this meeting when breakfast decided to come out the same way it went in. I’m all about the graphic description today, so strap in.

I cancelled my taxi, took off my shoes and my AFO and called it. I went back to bed; I call this a late scratching. I attempted to have a protein shake later in the day and that went badly also. Both ends. That’s my attempt at being a little more diplomatic. You’re welcome.

By 9pm I actually rang one of my carer providers to see if I could have a carer. I was lucky to get a carer, who while new to me came and stayed with me for a few hours.

Seems the perfect time to use the best quote from the film Bridesmaids

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bridesmaids_(2011_film)

If you are not familiar, you just got homework and the best quote ever from this film is “Oh my God! It’s pouring out of me like hot lava!”

My birthday I managed to finish the hydrolyte I started early in the morning. My carer was dispatched to do a few things; I managed a shower in the late afternoon.

A text from an older sister suggested even after stating how unwell I’d been still suggested I eat cake. My younger sister rang me late that night and we had a long call in which I cried.

Honestly, family is like death by a thousand tiny cuts. I did get out on the Thursday briefly for an appointment and a bit of hunter/gathering on the Friday. But it really took a week to bounce back.

A friend cheered me this week by pointing out a situation that would be worse than the two days I endured. Said friend has colonoscopy bags. Just so it helps to imagine. I thought this would make the “Hot Lava” situation easier? Until he suggested if the person who had to change the bag could not do so in time. You are so welcome.

Next time someone tells you their birthday sucks believe them. But always also be aware they know it could be worse.

Fake Spring in Melbourne

Published November 1, 2026 by helentastic67

Fake Spring in Melbourne

Melbourne each year has this very strange end to winter and start to spring. It’s cold, cold. People are very loudly done with winter. Then we get a warmish day. Sometimes, even two in a row and Melbournians rejoice. Then it’s over and it feels like winter again and people will act like it’s the start of winter all over again.

Have you heard of the babies that throw their toys out of their cots? It’s almost like that. People just need to take some more Vitamin D, seriously. Melbourne still has lots to see and do even in the colder months. I mean, the fake spring gets me every year and I’ve called Melbourne home since 1992. With the exception of two years around 2000. Even fake spring makes me wish winter was longer because I love to go to the city. Get to the NGV one more time. Even just wearing my long black merino wool jacket longer. But I’m not throwing any toys anywhere. A lot of people in their socials post about fun things to do in the city at night. Down hidden laneways, a line of people queueing up for “something” food, a bar, something. I don’t really go out in the evenings aside from during the Melbourne International Comedy Festival season, as I am half blind and struggle to see in the dark and people are often oblivious to my inability to see.

Then there’s the wardrobe as part of fake spring. A few weeks ago, when we had two decent spring days at the end of the week, I happened to be heading South-side for an event at the Palais in St. Kilda. I will blog about that. Just pace yourself. I don’t get Southside often these days. I lived in Prahran and South Yarra in my 20’s but didn’t get to St. Kilda often.

I have lived Northside for the last twenty years and I guess every area in a city like Melbourne will have a wardrobe, or a uniform. In Ackland Street I’ve seen younger women wearing what I describe as “not much”, whereas in Thornbury on the Northside fake spring brings out all the Millennials in their skinny black jeans and tight black T-shirts, even if it’s just for a day. Or all the way through summer. Skinny black jeans might be replaced by black shorts. Even I have resorted to black shorts on warmer days in the last ten years. My carers kept informing me I couldn’t possibly go out in my standard albeit thin black legging-type pants. But shorts, OMG! I don’t care about displaying my lily-white legs these days. They’re hair-free thanks to laser, but I refuse to conform and get tanned.

I hope this explains what Fake Spring is?

A Pinch and a Punch

Published August 16, 2026 by helentastic67

A Pinch and a Punch

A pinch and a punch! And a punch and a kick for being so quick.

It is the first day of June as I tap out this post. Therefore, the first day of winter. I have had a week already, or even the year. Can we be done yet?

Don’t worry, I am indeed being overly dramatic. I will improve when I get serious and put on my merino wool pants. I bought two pairs last year. The first I bought at a sample sale of a favourite merino wool shop based in Clifton Hill. The only thing I found wrong with them was that they needed hemming. Being height-challenged, I find this to be the norm anyway, so what’s the difference? I then went and bought another pair in black as soon as the spring sale started. I got them online, so I didn’t miss out.

I’m serious about my need to be warm these days and if I’m neck to ankle in warmth, I can’t feel anything and I can’t complain. It’s worth every cent.

I went out for lunch with a friend today and had a delicious lunch not far away in Northcote. Returned home, my friend gave me my once-yearly haircut. Now I’m rugged up on the couch, the youngest child, Freddie, snuggled into my side on top of the lap blanket. The heater is on. And I’ve much to blog about.

Trying not to fall asleep. It’s now 6pm and it’s going to be a struggle to make it. I know I didn’t achieve big things today, but I only had one coffee and I did go out. Not out, out, but outdoors. And it feels like a big achievement some days. And if I reward myself with a kip, it will backfire.

I am halfway through the year, still trying to tick things off the list for 2025. And I only just made my Christmas Day French toast. Take that, 2025.

It has now been over twelve months without my mobility scooter, and while winter is not the season to be out in the elements on a scooter, it still means no fangin’ it out to my not-too-far-away weekly acupuncturist appointments, or my fortnightly physio appointments close to the stabby appointments. Both are free, with no out-of-pocket cost. I’ve not been to either in nearly the year since the loss of my wheels. It means I’ve given up the appointments to better use the time or a carer and her wheels.

Catching up on hunter-gathering, getting to further-away appointments and letting the painful things build up. It seems I can’t do/have both at the same time.

Human Resourcing

Published July 20, 2026 by helentastic67

Human Resourcing

I must say even on my busiest days with the right carer I can sneak in a call to stop a payment to someone who hasn’t don’t their job and doesn’t deserve to be paid, I can take a call from Said Individual where I don’t know the payment has been stopped but the receipts she was meant to forward for reimbursement and the OT report that was meant to sort my replacement scooter did not get forwarded. In fact, that report put a Band-Aid on that issue and there did fuck all in solving any of that problem ongoing. So, annoyed right now.

But the right H’R.ing Human Resourcing and I’m eating my breakfast on the way to my midday appointment. Cos, that’s how I roll. And while my music is playing in her car, calls come in from the individual who had rung me earlier. She informed me she had done the things I already understood her to had done. I confess, I’m not experienced to do texting in the car through the car system, but my carer responded appropriately and I provide the blunt query, “Does that mean you hadn’t done it before now?” You are correct, she did not respond to that.

Not a Drinker

Published June 22, 2026 by helentastic67

Not a Drinker

Now, I do vehemently stand behind my statement that I barely drink, it’s very true despite the fact I have some serious alcohol in my home. Today I also went to a drive through bottle shop, also fondly referred to as a Bottle-O. Monday I bought some large jars and today I scooped up 2 Kilos of cumquats to make cumquat brandy. So, having a bottle of brandy at home already, I would be very annoyed if I started this process only to find I didn’t have enough brandy. I make a batch every few years as they need to marinade for four years. My oldest jar is about twenty years and its very dark I’m not wanting to need to crack that one open. I use the cumquats in my baking and the brandy is very nice in some lemonade, specifically Tarax Black Lemonade. It’s a nice Ladies drink, otherwise known as an aperitif. Explaining it like this, do I sound like a drinker?

It’s always much fun at a Bottle-O as I need to be directed to the brandy and they always show me their most expensive drop. I tell them I want the cheaper end of the market because when I’m done with it, it will be top shelf. The banter with the rather young male staff goes well and I mention while referring to my late-twenties carer I once went there for a small and cheap bottle of red wine to put in my bolognese and despite my carer being twenty, they asked her for ID, I asked today “Why don’t you ask the mid-life crazy ladies for ID?” I suggested while I’m not there for wine, they must see many hormonal women they just want to get them outta there with their wine.

Going to the post office I went to collect my two small parcels and I was offered five boxes of wine to which I swiftly replied, “No Thanks!”

So, circling back to my parting from the Bottle-O and my carer takes the purchase and calls back to me we can go. “Come on! Let’s go home and get drunk!” I laughed but hope he believed my version of our encounter. I do love the wit and humour of my carers, and their timing can be absolutely On-Point.

Circling Back

Published May 18, 2026 by helentastic67

Circling Back

This week I thought I’d circle back to last October. I read a recent post where I wasn’t sure I finished the storyline I was trying to share.

As you know, life is busy when you’re one-handed. And I seem to only ever skim the surface on some topics until I hear back from others or other people do their jobs allowing me to get some items ticked off my lists.

Note, Lists, plural, not singular. Don’t even bother creating a list these days. What’s the damn point?

Some of you may recall October ’25 I had my third cerebral angiogram? Yeah, hate those fucking things. That’s the one where they pass a wire up from your artery in your groin, up through your heart and into the arteries in and around your brain. When placed in said arteries, they release little amounts of contrast or iodine. It’s hot, others have told me it’s actually cold. I don’t know if they have had one but I’m saying it’s hot because it feels like it’s on fire. In all the parts of your head that shouldn’t be on fire.

This was the procedure that has me now making bold statements such as “Helen cannot be Phenerganed”

As preparation for the Angio, as I’ve mentioned I’ve had two previously. I reacted very badly to the first, where my blood pressure dropped in the procedure and a nurse literally started running round the room in a panic. Like, her running was going to help at all, or I was not awake and witnessing her panic.

Seriously, I’m right here and I’m awake and conscious. Don’t panic, it does not help me stay calmer. So, I had a reaction to the contrast and the third Angio I took an antihistamine twelve hours before and another an hour before.

Once at the hospital and in the pre-surgical area a discussion was had, with a nurse with a messy haircut and tattoo’s up both her arms. She was about my age or older and a particular tattoo looked like a purple bruise on her arm.

Think I’ve met this nurse before because I think I’ve had this conversation before. But not recently. I asked if it was a bruise and she informed me it was just a bad tattoo. I don’t have any tattoos, but I know they all tell a story of significance to them. Her arms were a canvas of simple lines and smudges. Hard to forget.

And the discussion was had with the medical registrar about “Giving me a little something” Another discussion about whether they would use an artery through my groin or my right arm. As I only have the use of my right arm it was important I ask if I would be able to use my arm after? He told me it would be a little numb at which point I insisted please use my groin.

I know it sounds wrong so I will explain at the top of your leg, both legs just next to your groin, or snatch as I prefer, is the artery that provides blood to your legs. They give you a local anesthetic and use a scalpel to slice open that location where they then feed into it a wire. I’m getting off topic. So, Phenergan.

It allows you to be mildly sedated could be the easiest way to describe it. I was calm and conscious and aware of all the things happening. I didn’t like it, but you just lie there and let stuff happen. One particular blast of the iodine I knew I had pee’d. I know, really highbrow stuff here. It’s not so easy while being punched in the head from the inside and lying in a coolish room in nothing but a pair of tied on paper underpants, and a cotton hospital gown and a light blanket. But modesty persists and I felt compelled to mention.

Just an FYI, Doctors couldn’t care less as the area they were interested in was purely my brain, not my comfort or dignity. I know when I tried to communicate this situation to the registrar, I was barely understandable. He told me to repeat for the nurse and I was again, not understandable. It was forgotten until much later.

Hours later, my carer returned and I was not ready to be released. As her shift was over and I would later learn how she had tried to push to extend her shift to get me home.

Apparently, all three of my carer agencies had been contacted to see if I could have a carer stay overnight with me. My then support coordinator who had stated her boss had told her to turn off her phone at 4pm so she was officially off duty. Apparently, I was meant to have a friend stay over with me, but nobody thought to tell me.

My next of kin, my mother is in her mid-seventies at this point and should not be expected to race down to care for me at 6pm. Not when she lives 3.5 hours’ drive away. They should have found a bed for me over night.

The kind nurse had tried to sit me up to get my clothes on me and I kept just falling down onto my back. My carer reporting to me later she offered her opinion in the form of a welfare check. “Helen is not OK!” I know right.

And I’m still not to the point of explaining how young male ambulance personnel was standing at the end of my bed while I was lying there cold and naked. It’s a very good thing I’ve got a good memory.

Alas, the owner of my third carer provider came to be my carer to get me home and settled. I ended up only being with that company for six months however that day, I was put into a wheelchair and wheeled down to the carpark under the hospital. I recall thinking it was too late to ask for a jab of tramadol as my left eye hurt and that’s the basic sign of a migraine these days and a jab of tramadol takes thirty minutes to kick in and would knock me out within that time so I could sleep it off.

Then I was in the car, no tramadol. I ride shotgun, front seat passenger. I can’t get my left foot with the AFO into a backseat, and my brain does not like motion. I have motion sickness at the best of times. Barely able to put words together I gave directions to my home. I directed the driver to pull under the building, so it was easier to get out.

BTW, I was in my pyjamas and my new black merino wool jacket if you were wondering. So, not being dropped in a clear way on a busy street was some basic dignity.

Went inside, upstairs. I remember sitting like a zombie on the couch. I remember constantly asking my carer who she was/what her name was? Took off some layers and had a shower. Learned the next day said carer did not follow any of the hand over notes, as I was not supposed to have a shower.

I was home and alone around 8pm as my carer had asked where my spare room was for her to sleep. My second bedroom is a study and definitely does not have a bed in it. I had offered her the couch to kip on. Kip is a British term I picked up in 1994 when I travelled there. It’s to have a nap/or a sleep. She declined.

Probably should mention, an overnight shift costs a great deal more. I’ve never needed one thankfully, but there is a financial difference between what considered an “Active” or a “Non-Active” shift. An “Active” shift means you will not get to sleep; your client is high needs. Not for the faint hearted. She did not stay over but left a few notes that she had left at 8pm after I recall discussing I would just go to bed and sleep.

I believe part of the reason you are suggested to have someone with you so you don’t sign some million-dollar contract in a state not for making wise financial situations you can never undo. Because that’s likely to happen, in no world ever.

Remember, I could barely string sentences together, retain names or information but my example stands.

Comedy Season 2026

Published May 4, 2026 by helentastic67

Comedy Season 2026

Comedy season 2026 has not even begun and I’m putting out spot fires in my social life. To be fair, I don’t manage to get through the comedy season and blog about it because I’m too busy coping and enjoying that little bit of joy and laughter also known by others as shits and giggles one hour at a time.

Apparently, once out I make it look easy, but its anything but, in reality it starts late in the previous year when dates start to be announced. I ask friends including carers if they would be interested, if they have preferred days, if they can go, do, stay, all the things. I don’t want to miss out on good tickets so I can see hear, appreciate, enjoy and laugh. And get there and home again in one piece.

I can’t do things at night. If I have things on during the day. I can’t do things during the day if I’m planning to be out at night. I don’t even have a diary for the following year when I start the planning.

I have a few carers that do my bookings. They don’t all happen online, some require calls. I get two tickets for the price of one because I have what’s called a Companion card, because I can’t go unless someone accompanies me.

I went to see the Prodigy in 2025 and a security woman walked up to me and my companion before I got to join the queue and she ushered us past the crowd. She saw that I had disabilities, she asked a few simple questions and she handed us over to the next P.S.O. who asked to check my bag. No, I was not trying to smuggle in alcohol or drugs even. The first P.S.O. had asked if I had my meds in it? I just said Sure. I just have a big bag. I like to buy a band T-shirt to wear as a way to express my interests to the world. Summer is good for that. During winter my look is more “Don’t fucking mess with me!”

Anyway, I digress, the first comedy tickets I booked was Danny Buoy as you may have guessed from a recent post.

The tickets for the event were in Ballarat. Often referred to as The Rat. A friend from my days working at the place only ever mentioned as Voldemort. I have often referred to him as my Gay Silver Fox, on account of all those things. I usually call him by Mr and his surname out of respect as at Voldemort he was my boss. On a rare occasion I’ll hastily say his first name to get his attention quickly and he looks sharply at me. It’s very amusing to us.

My grand plan to get to the Rat. I asked a carer who has a friend put there if she could drive me out there, help me with PC (Personal Care) and drive us home again so I could do all the things and cover her travel. She said, “We’ll work something out!”

To cut a long story short this translates as I got tickets, and a month or so out from the event when trying to lock in a commitment she was heckers busy. And I was left trying to put a band aid on a bullet wound. Trying to find a way out there without doing a tram and a train with a walking stick one-handed and a small suitcase, for a few hours. I had hoped to see Gay Silver Fox’s home. He only buys houses over 100 years old and renovates them. I’ve seen two or the three houses he’s owned. And had been prepared to sleep on his couch, if need be, to make it all work. I had hoped to visit two sisters while out there. My friends I rarely get to see, they are sisters. I had wanted to deliver care packages. Bottles of prepared bolognaise, Portuguese tarts, panettone, Anzac cookies. I just mean, Nona was coming to town and she doesn’t mess around. Look at that, I’m a poet.

Closer to the date, stressed and anxious trying to solve the logistical nightmare of what was to be a nice country adventure to start the comedy season, and a few calls to Gay Silver Fox and he rang on the Wednesday before to ask where we were with the plans. I’d managed to plan to taxi out there, half price taxi would have been pricey however, in for a penny in for a pound! Gotta, make it work and I’d secured my Sunday carer to drive out, do my PC and drive us home again on my funding.

Are you frustrated yet? Do you want to self-harm? Don’t do that, but strap in. At this point I can imagine my Mum asking frustrated why had I bothered? Why did I get tickets out there? I will answer that at the end, but it’s where his shows were booked at the time.

I updated Gay Silver Fox on the master plan and he sadly informed me he could no longer do any or all of the above. He was offered extra responsibility and work at his job and he needed to take it. Because he needs the work going through a messy end to a relationship.

Sometimes, I hate that I can change gears so quickly to help the other person feel better about my disappointment. All around it’s the right thing to do.

In the end, my lovely Sunday carer drove us out there and back the night of, Boss coffees provided by moi and tunes. Efficient and it ended up raining the Sunday morning so would not have been a fun drive for my lovely assistant.

So, sometimes, I wish what the final plan would look like, so I didn’t waste my time with band aids on bullet wounds.

And the angry retort I would have for my mother whom I love would need to be “Because how dare I try to do or have a life of simple pleasures that other people take for granted as so easy? How dare I?”

Sometimes, it is exhausting simply existing with disabilities and trying to have even simple pleasures is not worth the battle, or are they?

P.S. P.S.O. Personal Security Officer.

P.P.S. I will one day explain all things Voldemort but it’s a very big can of worms. Once opened it will be a lot. I’m not anywhere near ready to go there.

I Didn’t Get Id’d

Published March 30, 2026 by helentastic67

I Didn’t Get Id’d

This post is not in any way shape or form intended or otherwise racist. This is how my carers and friends will randomly converse.

Went to see a band with a much younger friend, during the warmer months she is darker, but I don’t really notice.

The gift was an older crowd. She was Id’d on the way in as she looks young and the woman that chose not to be Id’d, me (must have noticed my testing crazy bitch face) looks to me and said she looks really good, I thought she was 21. I said that’s because she’s only 27.

Sitting in a closed off area to one side, I kept glancing past her to see who was heading to the front area to dance. She had noted there were no dark people there. Specifically using the word “black!” As in her people.

She said barely Ok, I see some Asian, she said, I see some Indian but no African or Polynesian people.

Auntie Chistine

Published March 23, 2026 by helentastic67

Auntie Christine

It was 5th October 2025 I think sometimes I do love to mention people by name. Particularly when it’s for good reasons. But today I’m going to share an antidote about Auntie Christine. There were three at my council at this time and it was rather comical. In this instance Auntie Christine was the first to get the endearment Auntie. She was Jamima’s Aunty first and she was best known for teaching me the terms “Apron” and “Terrarium” These were the parts of your body that when drying require lifting to dry underneath. The Apron I think named after a 1950’s housewife’s kitchen garment is the part of your belly, men and women that does not stay flat. One older carer who had come from a nursing background would tell me the older bigger men she would shove her forearm up into a client’s apron to lift so she could dry underneath. She said mine wasn’t terrible.

Then, the terrarium? I heard you ask. She said Auntie Christine again, she once went to her doctor with an itchy belly button. The doctor said she had a plant growing in there. She had not dried it properly over time and it grew something. Obviously, the term terrarium creates a nice warm moist environment perfect for small plants or fungus to grow.

The most important part of Auntie Christine was when I learnt she had been a carer for about forty years. I asked her, “I bet you have seen a few bodies?” and I guess we are all critical about our bodies. And it’s hard to imagine putting all that aside to just do a job. Where everything you do is important, might be the kindest touch they have had in a long time. It’s the sentiment in which we communicate how much we care or even that this person is cared for. Auntie Christine answered my question with such a simple and wise response. “Bodies are bodies.” and when you put it like that it does make perfect sense.

Lastly, Auntie Christine was that carer who had to stand there while a family member tore me apart, even when I knew what was coming and tried to steer this conversation in another direction, she double down and kept verbally attacking me until I was in tears. So, it seemed this family member would not have been happy until I was in that state. This family member while beloved will also decide to throw criticism at me when my friend is merely complimenting them for their daughter. She will try to do this because I’ve found other elders to advise me and receive my kindness. I feel they do this because I am a confident and happy person when I’m living life, trying to smile and make people happy.

Meanwhile, Auntie Christine has been retired for about ten years she and her husband living in the country.

This post leads me to say the young male ambulance person that was standing at the end of my bed while I lay there stark naked. He was too young to have seen enough bodies. I was not delirious but mostly not able to string sentences together except to say I was cold and just wanted to go to sleep.

It’s hard and impossible when it’s most important that I cannot tell people who need to know, how I cannot regulate temperature. My head is not and the rest of me is cold. I need to warm my body and sleep off my head returning to normal temperature.

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

Published March 15, 2026 by helentastic67

Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner

So, sometimes you just know. I’ve been trying a few new carers lately. Trying to find the one that fits into the big gaping hole left by my last super awesome Girl Friday.

Might have been when we pulled up at the Officeworks store and she asked if she needed to bring anything? “Two working arms and a will to live!” “I’ve got one of those things!”