Disaster

It’s Still a Win – Right

You know those days, this is literally how my Monday went. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Went to bed early, 12.30am, that’s early for me, trust me. Still awake until 5am, but I had an early start plus a full morning planned. First mission, fucking disaster.

Carer arrives at 8am, even my cat is listed off and confused. She knows when I should write off the day and go back to bed, but I had a specialist appointment that is every three months. On a Monday, at 11.30am, because it’s the last appointment for this clinic on the day.

This is often a Team Helen mission. Mondays I have a carer called Helen; she’s a Heavy Hitter! (I’ll circle back to that later!) We taxi to save parking dramas or me going in without her. Her agency also hits me hard for kilometres in my carer’s car. (ie. they hit me for it instead of my funding.) and the carer always is worse off. I digress, taxi to appointment, I inhaled my entirety of pills before I left and pack something to eat on the way. Learnt from the driver that burnt toast smell I always catch on the way is a coffee roaster. No, I’m not having a stroke. (Apparently, that smells like burning car tyres?)

Arrive safely and early. Hear a Code Grey while we wait this triggers a Google search of the different codes that are used in a hospital. My carer is on my left and that is my worst blind spot. I regal her it’s a story of a visit to hospital over ten years ago when a code was called for me when I’d tried to get a sleeping pill at 1am when they kept putting me off. “Just close your eyes and you will go to sleep!” I was told, like I’m a four-year-old child not a forty-year-old woman who never slept at the correct time. Anyway, started to feel a little seedy while we waited. Helen asking if I was OK, did I want a drink?
You know when you just want to power down and not be present? Started to feel sick. Suggested Helen should move to my right side. We had discussed it, but we went with it anyway. So, I threw up. (Just saliva! Not my breakfast even but worth noting!) and peed my pants. Honestly! This has never happened before in public.

I used the bathroom and when I returned Helen mentioned the Doctor had asked if I was still OK for my appointment? Like, I didn’t come all this way to throw up in the waiting room and not get Botox in my leg? It’s also usually these times my carer comments on how pale I look and after throwing up how much “better” I look. I am generally sun-averse anyway, but “pale” is normally fine by me.

My recent visits for Laser hair removal start with the question “Have you had any sun?” And my witty response. “Not if I can help it?” Anyway, asked for something to put on my seat on the way home. This was granted and off we departed for home. She asked me if I was OK, and I reminded her if I wasn’t I’d come to the right place. It was a hospital after all. Mission to get home, half showered and into clean clothes and back to bed my only goal for the rest of the day.

My lovely carer departs and I manage to sleep for two hours. Wake in time for an appointment with someone that thinks my appointment is on Thursday. Don’t know why this keeps happening, but it’s about the only thing I can read in my diary. Lazy standard rest of the day. Prepare the next week of pills, while standing in the kitchen. Feed Mika, eat standing up to better utilise time. Hope the Botox doesn’t kick in while I’m moving around my home. My leg will give out mid-step. Botox in my leg doesn’t make it look younger, just work better.

Botox puts over worked muscles to sleep for a few months, so other lazy muscles have a chance to build and take an even balance when the Botox wears off. This is to manage my drop foot and hyper extending knee so, I don’t need a knee replacement one day and I move and walk better. Who knew right? So, that was my Monday. Am I done yet?

My People

I use the term “My People” often to refer to people in my life. They can be friends, carers, receptionists at regular appointments I go to or even people I encounter in waiting rooms as I did having my standard weirdo conversations.

Today, a Wednesday, I actually had a different carer today as my regular Girl-Wednesday was off sick. I got to my chiropractor by midday. No easy feat I assure you. But after breakfast in the car on our way, nailed it. I hope you are all aware. Helen is not a morning person.

Managed to get to my favourite North Fitzroy Café, got takeout lunch but still, it counts. Got home, inhaled lunch, sorry, no photo. But then fanged it out to the acupuncture and physio, punched, stabbed and electrocuted all in the same day. I even share a moment of celebration with my Physio that I got to the Grumpy One. It is understood I’m referring to the one that stabs me. I mean, I’m grumpy too but seriously, the stabber takes grumpy to a whole new level. Should put my family in a room with the other grumpy one.

My physio entered the curtained area that I was in. I pointed to the next treatment area stating, “You know, I know someone is in there, right?” Then I point to the shoes down on the floor, the toes pointing in my direction.” And I know they are that person’s shoes?” and he finished the thought process out loud! “If they were in those shoes, they would be staring at us through the curtain?” Me: “Right?” So creepy. He literally bent in half laughing with a hand on his knee.

Honestly, I love my people, and this is why I manage to get through each and every day.

On my way home, fangin’ it and I encountered a portion of footpath blocked off for some kind of maintenance, I had not gone to pee before departing my last appointment and detours were already not on my immediate agenda. A sign directed me to use the “other footpath!” Which to be clear was fifteen metres across the road and I doubt anyone was going to stop traffic to give way to hellonwheels. I detoured down a side street and down a lane way. The cobblestones wreaking havoc to my bladder. Cobblestones are retreats at the best of times and picking the best path does not always mean you can stick to it all the way along. But, alas, I made it to the other end and back to the High Street, continuing my way. Bars had started to open and put out their tables for after work drinkers and socialisers.

I got to the garage entrance in time for someone in their car to open the gate. I fanged it down and rather than the normal fang it to the basement and back to “Open up the motor” that I normally implement. You all realise its powered by two car batteries under my seat, right?

Parked in the shed and hot footed it upstairs, via the lift. Inside, put everything down on the floor, and made a beeline to the main bathroom to the toilet. I’m just saying, disaster averted.