Project Managing

Published December 7, 2025 by helentastic67

Project Managing

Lately, I’ve cut back on my appointments like physio, hence the lack of motivation or time to blog. I am not looking forward to the grumpy chastising from my acupuncturist who I should be seeing weekly as he is free. He is a GP and covered by Medicare so I really should be getting my ass there. And I think I haven’t been since April or earlier, but while I’ve been skipping my physio/neurophysiology and a few others, my pain increases as does the discomfort. It’s all been because they are using my funding to do report writing. Yes, you heard correctly. I’ve had to prioritise reports over pain management because I’m going to review again with the NDIA! Because I’m running out of funds.

I’m currently on my third Support Coordinator, who is like a case manager. Except, mine has run out of funds to do her job. I’ve been nudging with emails most of this year for her to get reports to people that are doing things for me anyway. So, I think every year I do more and more of that role. I’ve finally got a new Gun of an OT.

I’m hoping now, just celebrating the one-year anniversary of being in my forever home, that I can have a mobility scooter and somewhere safe and secure to keep it and charge it. And the NDIS funding in which to make that all happen and finally, not me to project manage all of that to make it happen. Even getting the Owner Corp and the board of residents, on board to allow these things to happen is a hair-pulling exercise as my existing shed is too tall and gets in the way of the sprinkler system.

I think the OC is largely against my installing a shed because it might set a precedent for others, also wanting to put up sheds. That whole “but she’s got a shed mentality…?”

In the last apartment complex the OC asked what I was storing in my shed. I didn’t immediately take their interest or concern seriously. I answered with my usual wit and humour “I’m not making Ice in there!” Breaking Bad made it seem like a good starting point to run successful manufacturing enterprise in a caravan in the desert. People these days make ice in rental properties which means they are no longer safe to live in. My real answer later was “My mobility scooter, gardening supplies and sometimes my excess tinned tomatoes and passata and panettone” I offered to use the light from my scooter to help better see what was really in my shed and I provided them with photos. It was exactly as my last statement and they dropped the issue.

Finding Time

Published December 1, 2025 by helentastic67

Finding Time

I’ve weirdly worked out the best sweet spot for blogging these days. As I’m always too busy to sit in any cafe let alone my favourite cafe in Clifton Hill. Actually, it’s in North Fitzroy. I still get to that cafe every Wednesday as my weekly Chiropractor appointment is very close to there now. However, stopping all the busyness long enough to type some words that tell a story and make sense; to share a lesson or learning, without being distracted.

Impossible! And I’m too easily distracted. Always something I want or need to do that isn’t typing words on a keyboard into an email I’m always drafting. I’ve now been in my forever home a whole year. Can you believe it? The 13th of November was the anniversary, a few months ago I would have said the perfect day/time of the week to sit and blog would be after getting home from physio, with a coffee by my side sitting at my dining table. Music in the background. However, while I should be fanging it home on hellonwheels after a kip at Physio, I would have had enough rest to not want to come home and go to sleep again and miss the perfect time I don’t need to do all the chores one-handed, cook dinner, bring in washing, maybe hand clothes on racks inside, etc, etc. So, it is to say, I’m as per usual behind.

Behind on the Adulting, behind on the responsibilities and the last fifteen plus years of trying to live well with disabilities, trying to maintain some parts of Original Helen and carve out a vision of Future Helen is catching up on me.

Problem Solving

Published November 10, 2025 by helentastic67

Problem Solving

I’ve been trying to solve a problem in my new home since moving in last November. It’s such a mess.

There are so many moving parts and potential solutions but more people to ask permission from before implementing solutions to the problem. So, the work around feels like a real fuck around.

Sometimes, I wish a clairvoyant or divine entity would just point you in a direction and narrow the field for you.

Here’s a real estate example which has been the perfect example whenever I’ve been on the hunt for a new home. I gave this example to a friend earlier:

If you wanted to only live in Ivanhoe and you had a set budget, and you wanted a certain number of bedrooms, bathrooms, car spaces, etc, etc. And if you couldn’t budge on any of those parameters. Maybe money wasn’t a limiting factor and you absolutely had to live in Ivanhoe; you would spend what you needed to spend.

If budget was important you would start to compromise on different things depending on what you could live with. Maybe less bedrooms, or whatever, but eventually you didn’t even live in Ivanhoe.

Maybe a clairvoyant could point you in the right direction and suggest Ivanhoe. Yes! But start looking for something a little smaller, or …..xyz. Then you wouldn’t waste your time trying to find all these other solutions.

Just an FYI, I didn’t have Ivanhoe money so I’m just giving that as an example. People that live in Ivanhoe have Ivanhoe money. You can’t hate them. You just appreciate them.

This is one of the major things on my list I’ve been chipping away at and made all the worse by a “friend?” suggesting I needed to get on my issues, like I was being lazy? Who needs enemies when you have friends like this?

So, the problem? I feel a part two coming on

I’ve had my mobility scooter AKA Hellonwheels for the last 15+ years and every time I’ve moved, I’ve had varying degrees of storage and weather proofing, security, etc in storing my Hellonwheels.

Some places I’ve lived at were easier than others for scooter storage alone. One house I rented didn’t have room to put my shed up for the scooter, so I ended up putting a BBQ cover over the scooter in the backyard close to a power supply and using locker straps around the cover to secure the cover and waterproof my scooter. It was a fuck around solution.

At my last rented home, an apartment, my car space didn’t have power so I was able to swap with a neighbour so I could erect my shed, park my scooter inside and charge it. I also stored my gardening supplies, and at one point my oversupply of pasta and tinned tomatoes, and my panettone.

I am such a Nonna!

My landlord queried what I was storing in my shed and I suggest Owner Corp and landlords do not have a sense of humour. Don’t say what I did? I responded to their original query that I wasn’t cooking meth or anything. My shed wasn’t big enough for that and I ended up using the lights on the front of my scooter to illuminate the inside of the shed to show them the contents. Seriously!

And while I was living there, I could go in and out of the only entrance to the garage on my scooter, I could go straight into my shed or go up on my scooter in the lift without causing damage. Parking near my apartment door and transferring items gathered into my apartment one item at a time before returning my scooter down to the shed to store and recharge. When I had more to take up and less time, I’d unpack items into a market trolley I stored in my shed and take that up.

Every pedestrian entrance to that complex had zero access for a scooter, and therefore no access for a wheelchair, except the B1 level or the carpark, just to give you a bigger picture.

Good thing I only have used my scooter for solo shopping missions locally as well as prompt local appointments where I get to maintain a level of independence.

So, when I moved to my forever home, the real estate agent showed me the apartment. My car space, the lift, the direction of the closest power supply to my car space and basically gave advice on both my disability and access to things he had no working knowledge on and directed everything to be sorted by the owner Corp when the time came.

I don’t know if anyone else has had to deal with an owner Corp, or had to solve problems of access for someone with a disability? And under the NDIS I have people for that right?

I prompted my support co-ordinator if she could get on that and sort things so when I moved, I wouldn’t lose my independence around needing my mobility scooter. After multiple prompts I was provided with a company name and the comment that they were expensive.

You might imagine the title of that person, being a Support Co-ordinator would mean they um, Support and Coordinate?

But it often means THEY DO NEITHER OF THOSE TWO THINGS!

So…

Blogging

Published October 20, 2025 by helentastic67

Blogging

I remember reading a blog post in my early blogging days by a very prolific and consistent blogger who I think stopped posting in the last year or so did a very good public announcement about not doing comments longer than a post you are commenting on. I was so guilty of this in my early blogging days in my desire to share hints and tips of living with my kind of disability and how having carers really helped. I know commenting is a skill I’ve lost in the recent upgrades from blog site to webpage.

But something this particular blogger instil in me, is to not comment a longer comment than the actual post. Many a time, I’ve written a lengthy comment only to reread then delete the whole thing. I guess it’s nice to give someone a bit of positive reinforcement, but you need to hope they edit or read before approving your comment on their blog. Otherwise, use their post as inspiration and write a post on your blog to link to them.

The Absence of Light

Published September 21, 2025 by helentastic67

The Absence of Light

I confess, toward the end of winter I did a little retail therapy at a merino wool sample sale. I bought this fantastic black jacket that is a bit more original Helen. A term I use to refer to me before my disability. If weather permits, I would live in black. It’s my favourite colour despite black not actually being a colour officially. It’s an absence of light. I’ll give you a moment to ponder this.

I have a good wardrobe of woollens these days as I can’t always put a jacket over warmer items and a full jumper just hikes up in all the wrong places. Or I can’t put my arms down as I resemble a penguin?

If in Melbourne, dress in layers. Can not give better advice.

I think it’s every five to eight years I add to my winter wardrobe, so I have more options but I’m already going to miss that jacket.

Expectations From Others

Published June 30, 2025 by helentastic67

Expectations From Others

Sometimes, there are little things about having a disability that you would never imagine or believe.

People will always imagine everyone treats me as a human being that deserves respect, love and support and that might feel fair and truthful for some of the time. However, on occasion someone you least expect will throw their emotional baggage at you they refuse to deal with themselves, I gather.

When I’m depressed, I hibernate to minimise fallout on others. I’ve found biting and hissing at others just makes them less likely to sign up for more.

It’s not for everyone. It’s not even good for a long-term solution for anyone with mental health issues. But I like to consider I’m taking responsibility for my issues and not projecting my shit on others. But other times, when someone wants to pick a fight with me, they will throw it in my face that I’m uneducated.

I’m sorry! Did you hear me?

About ten-years-ago I had an OT ask me “How far I made it in school?” I was offended. I finished secondary school. Then completed three years of Tertiary, Arts, sure, however, I’ve since completed a leadership course of which this blog was my project. I also did part of a Certificate IV in assessment and training but don’t even start me on that.

I never had to do a four-thousand-word essay until my first year of tertiary. My art history lecturer thought my presentation on Pop Art and the artists Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein was brilliant. I know it may sound like I’m justifying but!

One thing I would never do is kick anybody when I’m struggling so I feel better about myself. So, you may be able to tell I’m having a hard time.

Sometimes, being one-handed, having half one’s eyesight, not being able to see. Work catches up on me. And as per I’ve some blogging to catch up on. I really don’t like blogging as a reactionary measure because I like to let the dust settle but maybe I need to rant.

Then I foresee many posts to context the ranting. Alas, it is 12.30am, and while this is early, I feel I should call it a day. Unpacking this shit always feels like unpacking dirty laundry.

I’m That Weirdo

Published September 30, 2024 by helentastic67

I’m That Weirdo

I could honestly do a post every week just on weird conversations I start with complete strangers for no reason whatsoever. And why not?

I’m definitely that weirdo who can give people a different perspective of disability/brain injury or just going for gold in a way they will remember me at the end of the week award.

Most people are oblivious I have disabilities let alone that its brain injury related. They wouldn’t even realise I’m half blind.

Last Friday, went to the local supermarket and got a few things, at the checkout was a young Asian guy with a tattoo up the side of his neck. It was a line of a foreign language that was not very wide and about two inches long. You know I asked. While he looked a little perplexed. I offered him an “out” I suggested “Why do stupid white women ask what our tattoo’s say?”

He looked a little surprised but answered “Family. Friends. And Me!”

Our day continued but I really hope that wasn’t the list of his priorities in order. I don’t have any tattoo’s but like husbands and kids, I always intended to get another permanent scar to remind me of pain for the rest of my life, that’s what my tattoo should say. Because I’ve neglected, forgotten to get any of those so far.

Problem Solving

Published August 19, 2024 by helentastic67

Problem Solving

Sometimes, family that don’t spend time together, having to work on a problem together helps form bonds.

Once upon a time, the first time I moved house after my disability and after my removalist cancelled five hours after he was to have started the job, by which time when he rang me to tell me he’d had to go to hospital and I would have preferred to have heard from his next of kin to tell me he had DIED.

My Mum, then early sixties and me one-handed, arrived at my new home to find my bed had not been put together by my removalists. To their credit, it wasn’t actually their job to put things together and I had been warned because when I was contacted for payment, they told me they had eventually given up and left because they didn’t want to waste my money. In both of our defence mum and I were both exhausted. Mum with upper back problems, me with recent lower back disc bulge surgery, we walked in the door and mum had already decided I would sleep on my mattress on the floor.

Not far from the front door I went to my bedroom door, took about two seconds to assess and problem solve what the men had not managed to work out. “The base is the wrong way around!” Mum literally dismissed this and told me I could sleep on the floor. I, however, was not going to make this bed twice, nor make her. I should probably mention, my bed was made by my dad, a builder, or a carpenter (a Chippy!) back when I was twenty-four-ish. It’s a timber Sleigh Bed. Although wisely at the time he convinced me to not shave the foot of the bed as tall as the bed head. Half the bedrooms that bed has been in, I’ve not been able to move around even three sides of the bed. Even the bedroom I have now, getting down the end of the bed to my ensuite, I hover to go sideways and my bedroom door does NOT close. So, the base of my bed is a slat base, I’ve recently described it as glued and screwed and built into a sturdy box, so it doesn’t move. Even twenty-five plus years later.

I encouraged mum to push boxes with heavy art books in them across the floor to put under the timber mattress. I helped and using only four or five, it took the weight of the base. I wriggled the foot of the bed and leaned it against the wall. We both pulled just a fraction on the base to detach it from the bed head, leaning that also against the other wall. We then carefully replaced the base, reattached the bed head then perfectly slotting the foot back onto the base. All the bolt holes matched. I recall we were both spent but I was determined. I think mum left me to sort the bolts. Fair, wriggling on the carpet to each corner then two bolts into the middle of the centre of the base into the bed head. With the shifter to tighten and it was done.

Like the Good Old Days

Published June 10, 2024 by helentastic67

Like the Good Old Days

Sometimes, I think I should revisit the earlier days of HellOnWheels when life was full, as if it’s not now and I used to do a Hot Off the press post.

So, I guess this is reminiscent of those days. Monday, usually a quiet day at home but not always. Had a video chat with a new carer agency. Proof that every now and again the stuff set in concrete moves and you need to ride the waves of change to keep the boat upright. Is that a good analogy or what. Note, not a question.

Dropped off an old doona, its cover and some pants to an op shop on HellOnWheels, local adventure and went to a business to break a note and drop off some takeaway coffee cups that my carers keep insisting on bringing into my home. Then for the weirdest drug deal ever. You know I don’t do drugs and even in my club days didn’t. So, I think this topic deserves its own post. Went to physio after running into said Physio at the local business in question. Gave him some smack talk suggesting to lessen the imminent pain he was about to cause his patients, to have a nice chamomile tea. He didn’t.

Tuesday had an extra four-hour shift with one of my favourite carers. I know like parents with their kids, you don’t have favourites you just love them differently. When the two Helens get together, we get stuff done. We even did a little local adventure. A regular lady I am friendly with in my travels noticed a different face out with me and asked if she was my sister? Sure, why not?

Admin Day, things were started, booked and we did a little real estate searching. Because, why not? I don’t want to kill myself enough already. Don’t ever look at properties you’ve lived in years earlier and look at the sale history, you will want to kill yourself.

Wednesday, standard chiro. Gave her what’s the term for the – I moved my practice to its new home gift. Was going to go with flowers but they die. Settled on orange Toblerone. The really huge box, I got one for me too and it’s already promised as orange Toblerone mousse in mid-February when some friends come for dinner. They are bringing moussaka, I made lasagna last time and they brought a delicious selection of tiny cakes. Crowd pleaser. It’s a good way to do a dinner party these days. Delivered a bag of my old well-loved Adidas Gazelles I used to wear prior to life with an AFO, those were the days. Gotta run fast to catch the other Helen.

They will find new homes with young refugees who want to play sport. Likely connecting that carer with that locomotion to donate food that is normally disposed of in the bin. I love connecting my people with my other people. Then went to the toy shop I mentioned previously. This brings us to the end of Wednesday, basically.

January has become the time of year I do spring cleaning, carers, businesses I deal with, services I use, take time off. People with children have lives dictated by school holidays, etc. So, I do stuff. Onward

Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe I’ll catch up on some data entry, that alone is a never-ending battle.

Inclusion

Published May 27, 2024 by helentastic67

Inclusion

There is a weird thing about disability that people are oblivious to. It’s always feeling like I’m undervalued, misunderstood and the weirdest thing is being excluded simply by not actively including me, or someone like me. It is not always about me.

But I’m aware I push in often to remind people of my very existence, not everyone feels confident to speak up or make their presence known or heard.

Then, there’s the other times I commentate when sharing an experience with others on how I’ve been treated. They don’t even need to ask, I tell them, “It’s what I want to say, but knew better?”

But there are even people, like family I don’t speak my mind to because I presume, based on previous experience they will be offended, it will go terribly, so I bury the pain deeper.