Smashed it!

Published October 6, 2016 by helentastic67

messy-kitchen

Smashed it

Totally smashed it!

There are times I really hope my Carer doesn’t turn up in the morning, take one look at the state of my kitchen and walk out claiming stress leave.

I do know when some of my Carers look at the state of the kitchen and grumble a little at the mess, but I also know they inhale as they walk in the door and inquire as to the aroma.

coffee-pot

I’m generally grateful if it’s incense or essential oils and not kitty litter.

But tonight I completely smashed it in the kitchen. For a one-handed numpty I have big ideas and I’m lazy for days but then put some music on and get lots of ingredients out until there’s not much space to work with and about 2 hours later, I’ve achieved brilliance. Or at least I think so.

Tonight, while drinking my coffee while standing, I smashed out some pancakes, mushrooms baskets and a cauliflower and white sauce bake…

making-pancakes

And the dishwasher is currently on and possibly going on again later.

I didn’t get to the simple Napoli sauce or the “whatever the other thing I intended to make” but I’m sure I can do that tomorrow night!

napoli-sauce

It’s not quite 8.30pm and I’m still eating dinner tonight earlier than last 4 nights.

SMASHED IT!

Caring and Sharing

Published June 3, 2016 by helentastic67

Caring and sharing

Caring and sharing…

So, part of needing carers a huge problem is rostering.

Over the years I’ve dealt with many, many people who have done the rostering and my expectations have moved a great deal to cater to the irregularity and unexpectedness of when and who will turn up!

I need a lot of sleep and like most of us, I don’t get nearly enough, I often do my ‘best work’ late at night and struggle to wake up and engage my brain!

Don’t worry, I can answer the phone if it wakes me and snap right into ‘work’ mode! But I really do try to sleep up to my carer arrives and rings the doorbell.

Or at times the office rings me to tell me my carer is at the front door.

Today, I had requested a carer for 9 am, because I didn’t have an appointment out until 12.30 pm and it was local and I could scooter there.

Lots of the carers are away at the moment so I was looking forward to seeing someone I haven’t seen in maybe 6 months. I was told she would arrive at 8.45 am. I know, it sounds positively pedantic but if you don’t sleep until 2 am, every minute counts!

I wish this could be a more interactive experience right now so I could say;

“Who wants to guess what time she came?’ And more importantly “Who wants to guess what time her roster said?”

That’s right! 8.20 am!!!! WTF!

So, it’s any wonder after an eventful day I couldn’t make it past 8.30 pm without a ‘kip’ on the couch. Had an hour which helped me power through the rest of the night of dinner, emails and chores. And despite this my left eye hurts.

Pills, I think and off to bed!

Held Hostage

Published March 11, 2016 by helentastic67

Ginger Cat 1

Once upon a time our family had a cat which had kittens. There was a Ginger cat which was called “Ginger Biscuit”. It very briefly had a rather wry misname of ‘Crumb’ when Mum baked out of the drive way and it didn’t get out of the way. It sustained a broken leg and after a very expensive trip to the vets, came home with a metal rod in its leg. He survived to sun bath on our concrete for his vitamin D, but alas that’s just background. The temperament of this particular cat was really sweet. I once picked him up and sat with him on the couch. At the start he didn’t much go for my need to sit with him on the couch, so I had to hold him to my chest with both arms. Poor Biscuit didn’t have a chance really, however luckily within 2-4 minutes he was touched in and fast asleep purring…

There is something about having a disability and being taken away from your home where you can maintain some of your own independence that is like being held hostage.

When at home, I can pretty much fend for myself. I don’t leave the house every day of the week if I can help it and I prefer to have the help of a carer on the days I do leave the house, but when I’m out of my comfort zone I have to rely on the volunteer assistance from family or friends. I cannot do my own hair, trim my own fingernails or toenails or dry and dress in a timely manner and endeavour. Eventually, like Ginger Biscuit I just accept fate and take what I can get, make the most of it and go to sleep.

And this plays on the depression.

If you think it’s a 1^st world problem that I can’t do my own mani/pedi, I should be so lucky! My nails are soft these days and bend back causing pain, my left toenails if too long get stubbed and badly damaged. My left fingernails get in the way when I’m trying to exercise that hand and keep my fingers flexible. So, yes? My fingernails are an issue. But if you want a stronger example: try this.

Met a woman from the Barwon District, who had come to tell us of her experiences of the NDIS being piloted in her region.

She was in a wheelchair and probably in her late 40’s – early 50’s. She had a package to provide her carers and as she needed a Carer to go from bed to her wheelchair where she spent her day and to a toilet and back to her chair or bed, you might like to imagine the timing of her carers could be rather critical.

She gave the example that one particular day, she couldn’t wait to go to the toilet and her carer was some hours away, so she rang her service providers to request her carer earlier.

They could not provide it to her.

As she sat in her chair on the stage, she told us she couldn’t wait and in the best of spirits announced to us that when her carer did arrive at the rostered time she would have more of a mess to clean up!

Now, I’ve had some “shitty days!” But she was so brave to announce it to us like that and can you imagine it’s a way some people get held hostage to a situation far from their control…

Old People

Published March 4, 2016 by helentastic67

Old lady

There are many things to love about old people! I know a few amazing older ladies. But I’ll tell you about them another time. But I love when older people ask me about my arm.

Usually, pre-empted with “What have you done to yourself?” to which I reply with – “I refuse to take responsibility for this!…….”

And I offer a brief explanation.

Then I ask them the same question. Today I asked this of a gentleman at a Medical Clinic I was at, who had a walking stick. His wife answered for him.

“He’s just gotten old.”

Priceless. Love that answer because then I can tell them I expected it to take years longer before I felt as old as I feel……

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?

Human Rights

Published November 28, 2015 by helentastic67

Human Rights

Human Rights

There are many examples, I will give where you would imagine, just because I have a disability and because someone collects a wage from a job where they provide a service to those with a disability that you would be treated with respect and provided the services they are entitled to.

I hope my blog over time will express my experience of this sector and that if it is challenging to give a client/patient/customer, what they need then, it’s ok to withhold a service, not delivered a service or just outright bully so you will stop asking.

There are times now, how I’m treated, is outright shocking! And I’m someone who knows what’s going on and how to organise my life and my needs and my services and I dread to think how the people who can’t self-advocate get treated.

I once received a call offering me Public Housing. I know these calls are often met with jubilation and great relief, but I often get a little grumpy and demand “Yes? Where is it?”

Even my friends no longer get excited anymore and demand to be told “Where is it?” On this occasion they building was a new apartment block and the gentleman on the phone after selling me the fact that it was fully functioning, disability friendly bathroom. He told me I couldn’t take my cat!

I am not one to smuggle my fur-baby into my home. People have to know I come with a cat!

I’ve had good house-mates and shitty house-mates. I’ve had shitty boyfriends. Shitty because they are not still here.

I’ve had shitty friends and good friends. All in the last 16 years. They have all come and gone and are no longer here.

The fur-baby is still here!

I often go days without seeing another human being. So my cat is not an optional housemate. I told the gentleman, my cat didn’t cope without me and I didn’t cope without her.

HE TOLD ME TO HAVE HER PUT DOWN!

Now I think you can now tell when I used the term ‘gentleman’ I was being very generous!

Sensitivity

Published November 27, 2015 by helentastic67

Sensitivity

Best advice I can ever want to be a personal carer or anything that requires to go into someone’s home. Go easy on the perfume…

As in “Don’t wear any”

Once had a temp carer arrive at my door to take me shopping? As soon as I opened the door I was assaulted by the bouquet of perfume and cigarettes and I was about to get in a car with that. With the windows up because it was winter. So Help Me GOD!

Assistance Please

Published November 26, 2015 by helentastic67

Assistance please

Some people have really got no idea how the system I live in works and these are people that work in this system and generally (?) want to be helpful. But anyway;-

Example 1

I live in private rental, so when trying to negotiate extra assistance in other areas. I will mention, I live in private rental, to make the point that I’m already doing it tough, paying horrendous rental on a disability pension.

Instead of helping me in the area that I’ve called them for (maybe a donated computer or whatever) they suggest – have I considered applying for Public Housing?

Are all the people they deal with idiots? Applying for Public Housing was on my Top 5 list about 7 years ago and to make it clear NOT BECAUSE I WANT TO!

So, for those who don’t know, you apply for Public Housing and it’s a wait list longer than life itself. Then you get forms your doctor (generally GP) to fill in and that qualifies you for early housing because in my case I have a disability.

That is still 5 years away!

And this is still for Housing that will be smaller than what I want or need, in an area I should be paid to live in. Just so I can pay a fraction of the rent I now pay, so I will have more money to spend not to be home!

I’m a home body, so it seems to defeat the purpose agreed?

I don’t think I’m the type of person who would do well for very long in Public Housing. What remains of my Good Mental Health, would not last long around people who have bigger mental health issues than mine and I really don’t want to live in high density living with people of a drug element, when I’ve managed to not resort to drugs to fix my problems…

Torture for Sure

Published November 26, 2015 by helentastic67

Torture

Today, while I was in the shower, my carer was helping me with a chore, somewhere else in my home. She call out to me –

‘Has your boyfriend been staying over?’

To which I replied ‘WHAT! What boyfriend?’

‘Well, you have all these pajama tops and no pants!’

I told her I had folded the pajama pants already and put them away. Hence why she thought I’d been getting some “action” where the pajama pants were optional.

I informed her – ‘I prefer a little above the waist ‘action’ before any below the waist ‘action’!’

She called out that she was in agreement.

It would probably surprise people that most my friends these days are 10+ years older than me. We have little in common but they’ve seen me naked. They are my carers. I see them more often than I see my actual friends. But this is an example of my sass and why I think my carers like to work with me. Nothing at all to do with seeing me naked.

“Torture for sure!”