Inconsistency

Published November 9, 2022 by helentastic67

Inconsistency

Wow, anyone noticed lately I’ve been a little less than consistent? Yeah, I really don’t like being inconsistent. I’m actually always found ways to have routine, even when I did not have study or a full-time job, I built things and life into a routine. Maybe building this and consistency made it easy to keep my AVM be unnoticed for so long. Maybe it’s how I coped. Or the signs of it, I don’t know, it’s a working theory.

So, if you have been following, you know there has been chaos, emotional trauma and grief and my normal routine has been thrown out of whack.

Two brief visits to the country have meant returning home I’ve needed a week just to catch back up on the normal. People assume having carers is set and forget but it requires ongoing maintenance. Having events out of the norm means shuffling, more intensive organising stuff, Admin, housekeeping. It all starts to back up on me. Mail, letters that require action grows, phone calls, emails, new groups plus Zooming.

In times of stress, I’ve always needed more sleep and every now and again I get a migraine where I just can’t function and I’m in bed by 3.30pm and I’m hungover for days despite deadlines and events.

On Thursday last week I went to the AGM of the NGO I’ve volunteered with for over ten years. I’ve been a voting member for 4-6 of those. You member the group that was under valuing me and bullying me. Yeah, that one! I stepped down. Even by choice, with all the other grief and stuff in life to deal with, it was a tear in the corner of my eye moment. I was asked to stand so a room full of mostly strangers could see who I was and asked if I wanted to say something. I did but wasn’t in any state to speak. Nor, would they have wanted to hear what I would have said.

Add to this my carer wore perfume that day. She made the statement “it was her thing!” I’m like, “Get another thing!” And then the migraine to boot.

On the Sunday, I did a BBQ gathering in a local park to celebrate my recent 5-Oh! And upon arrival found the BBQs did not work.

Having some WTF Moments of late, and not coping. Things continue to slip. It’s now practically Wednesday and Tuesday came with two carers arriving because I forgot to cancel one and it allowed me to do some outsourcing and some catching up. My small stack of hospital referrals and letters for appointments has gone. And while this is not the post I’d intended; I will start on the next. A BIG AWARD TO BE REVEALED! Some updates on all the important things and finding new ways to write since I’ve got bigger issues with my one good hand.

TO BE CONTINUED………

The Other Worst Week Ever

Published October 26, 2022 by helentastic67

The Other Worst Week Ever

So, this is the last post with the subliminal message, has anyone picked it yet or even noticed? Please comment.

So, last week was the dreaded week of my father’s funeral, worst day ever. First piece of advice, someone offers you tissues. TAKE THEM!!!

Even though I had a friend, who saw my support person handing me a tissue every other minute, it wasn’t enough.

All the talks-talks, song, light candle stuff for which you think takes forever, it’s over before you know it and I was almost left behind. I did the walk out metres behind his coffin and tried badly to not rush, while desperate not to do the ugly cry. You know the cry where you at least want to bury your face in a hand, so no one witnesses it. You know I use a walking stick in my one good hand right? Yeah, not helpful.

The Funeral Home director asked if I could walk over to the cemetery or if I would need to go over in a car. Wisely, I said yes, car please. He had not been offering me a lift but if I had not been helped into the front passenger seat of the hearse, I would have been left behind. Lovely driver Phil made small talk to take my mind off things. I tried to sell him Dad’s car. But alas, dad no longer has the Valiant Charger in Vitamin C orange. So, that was a fail.

With all the love and respect in the world, if I ever hear the song by Bette Midler, The Rose it will be TOO FUCKING SOON! Jesus Wept!

Second piece of advice, when trying not to do ugly cry, try breathing in and out of your mouth. Not saying it worked, but it felt like it helped. Lastly, my family gave me the awards Best Worst Ugly Cry and Best Worst Timed Ugly Nose Blow. Charming, no.

The night of the funeral we had a pool party with our cousins around catching up and playing pool. I have cousins I’ve not seen for 30 years. And the most common memory was dad teaching everyone how to hammer in nails into a small off cut of pine. One cousin who has become a builder wants dads hammer, but I have already laid claim to it. What! I think we made dad proud that night.

His house felt like a home because it previously felt like someone had been merely existing there. We will be there for this upcoming Christmas, so I imagine dad watching over us as he promised. I might convince a carer one day to hold a nail for me while with half the necessary eyesight I smack in the nail in the triple tap technique my dad used. I’ll explain that better another time.

On Sunday, two days later I received the award of 1st Caligiuri Daughter to surface and be reasonably functionable. The household likes to start the day with coffee. I made the statement I prefer to start the day with my own natural energy and you should all be aware I’m NOT A MORNING PERSON. I need to end the day with my Medicine (coffee) so I can get through the rest of the day.

I guess all the family dysfunction we put off dealing with for one day in the future comes to the foreground when the passing of a loved one happens. Now we have to deal with all of that too. While grieving.

A friend shared a perfect statement with me today “The Price of Love is Grief”

I know this is not a happy post, but I’ll try better next week when I reveal the reason for the subliminal messages.

Life Without My Dad

Published October 17, 2022 by helentastic67

Life Without My Dad

So, writing with an upbeat tone is not going to be easy today. Went clothes shopping last Friday for something Funeral Appropriate and disability friendly. My dad’s funeral is this Friday. I’m revisiting my question to self of “How much snot is in one’s body at any given time?” I did ask Google who was NO HELP!

I’ve ended my day of shopping with a men’s jacket to wear over my standard black pants and the goal to not look like Hannah Gadsby. No offence.

My father had a very quick illness that did not allow me sufficient time to prioritise to drop everything and go see him. He had started treatment but was truly not going to win this war. He had previously beaten bowel cancer and bladder cancer, a heart attack during all the lockdowns in Melbourne.

Despite knowing he is at peace; my heart and soul are weeping. The world seems a little like something is missing if you know what I mean? And I’ve yet to write my contribution to his funeral. I’m not going to be able to read it myself.

Now for your subliminal message.

Cannot promise to be any more upbeat next Monday, can’t be helped.

Some Wisdom

Published October 10, 2022 by helentastic67

Some Wisdom

Because HellOnWheels like myself takes prides on being a multi-faceted blogger, with plenty of different interests’ wisdom and knowledge in life, here’s a little advice from the carpenter’s daughter in me.

“Measure TWICE!
CUT ONCE!”

You’re welcome.

Going for a bit of light humour because it makes things a little better on even our darkest of days. Except for this part.

For my dad Frank, may he Rest in Peace born 15^th July 1948 – 5^th October 2022.

My head understands but my heart and soul are breaking.

My Best Advice

Published September 26, 2022 by helentastic67

My Best Advice

Last week at a meeting I contributed my Hot Tip for how I managed to get through the Plague in the last few years. Now it received rave reviews, but I feel like it will be passed on to the intended third party without my name attached. Call me crazy but I like to be given credit where credit is due.

So, well they failed to remember Hell’s got a BLOG! So, I’ll just beat them to it.

My advice –

I thought of friends that might have been more isolated than I was or coping with all the lockdown stuff in Melbourne and all the social isolations, and I rang them, I reached out. I just talked about whatever, and I know the people I chose to do this with appreciated me doing so.

Ironically, because everyone always assumes Hell’s doing OK, no one ever thinks to check on me.

Secret Message

Published September 5, 2022 by helentastic67

Secret Message

Today, a little secret addition, a subliminal message, imbedded in each post for a bit, see if you can pick it and comment. Hang on there and all will be revealed. (No evil intent I assure you all)

As last week I promised an update on my latest fall and a surgery. Generally, when all I have to do Is put my left foot back, I will be guaranteed to fall. Without fail.

I had taken just a step out of my shower in my ensuite and noticing water snaking across the floor I twisted slightly to reach for the mop that resides there just for this purpose and I think I put a rib out while losing my balance, I started to fall. Like in slow-motion, straight down onto my Ass. I luckily manage not to flail my arms and legs about so that’s something. I did collect the shower stool on my way down on my left, in two places on my back. That didn’t tickle, even weeks later.

My carer came hearing the ruckus and asked two very important questions. 1) Was I alright? Yes, as I wriggled and made squelching noises on the floor of the shower having just missed the ridge of the shower base. That could have been very uncomfortable. And 2) did I want her to call an Ambulance? Hell NO! FYI, they do not get you up and set you on your feet then leave. They get you up and take you to hospital.

My left leg was caught on the edge of the shower screen, the bathroom heater had to be turned off as I would like, burn my left leg before I felt it. Wet! Naked! And trying to work out how I was going to get up. (Try not to imagine that.) It took half an hour for me to commit, the best way for me to get up is to make things worse before they get better. I had to grab my left arm and roll over onto my stomach. Then, up onto my right hand and knees. Bathmat under my knees because the tiles really hurt. I could not straighten my body and I called my carer who I had, had to direct to sit in the chair I had asked her to bring in to my already cosy ensuite. It ended up giving her something to do as the things she had suggested I grab hold of would have made things worse not better. Once more upright, I lifted my right foot to put it under me, my right elbow on the edge of the handbasin and I levered myself up. Ironically, by the time my carer was assisting to dry me, I was already dry.

I had two small patches on my beck, hip and near my scapula that required our family’s Gypsy cream. (To be explained later) Oh, bruised and sore, actually sorer than my bruises suggested I continued my morning as usual and my carer departed. I undid the appointments I had been scheduling at the start of my next shift just close to home. My next carer arrived and as I groaned and swore my way out of my apartment, down the lift, I got halfway to the front door to go out and do my shopping and my carer asked just the right number of times before it was crystal clear I should stay home and let her do my hunter/gathering.

Later that afternoon, I had my weekly chiro appointment, I did get out for and I couldn’t even lie down on the table. She was kind enough to bring the table up to me, before putting it back down. The powers I refer to as the rocket ship launcher she used a lot back in 2011 when I was awaiting disc bulge surgery.

So, I posted a comment about my fall to socials, you know like you do, I got a comment from a family member suggesting I get a bathmat. As in the rubber kind, I replied “have one. Didn’t fucking help!” Is it wrong I imagined family might call to check if I was OK? That did not happen.

On the upside, being sore and bruised meant I could stay home and avoid getting the plague. Elective surgeries get pushed to the back after all the crazy Covid restrictions, don’t need to get bumped by getting the Plague now.

Had the surgery at a Women’s hospital, so being that I’ll keep the details to a minimum. Not a question. Before the surgery, I was told it would hurt as much as surgery to my Virginia. Ladies, sorry if your eyes just watered. Any male readers? Deal with it! Um, meanwhile, thankfully I have not had that kinda surgery, so I wanted another example. She walked away. OK then.

So, a few more weeks I’ve been mostly housebound, happily catching up on TV and sleeping. There is never enough.

This was my second surgery I’ve had this year, but you will need to wait to hear about that one. It was far less torturous in compassion. To be continued…

Lastly, anyone asks what my surgery was about. I’ve been telling them these two words. “Boob Job! NOT GETTING A BOOB JOB!” But it leads to very amusing comments.

Hell On Wheels

Published August 29, 2022 by helentastic67

Hell On Wheels

Now, for a brief moment I fancied I could imagine a front-page apology from the NGO (Not for Profit/Non-Government Organisation) for removing my blog link from their website despite having been an active member for over ten years. But I didn’t want it like this.

Sadly, it’s not been forthcoming and that general topic is on the back burner as I’m letting the dust settle on it. To be continued.

Meanwhile, this article is about the scooters people hire in the city in the early hours to get themselves home because they are too drunk to make better decisions and get a taxi. Ending up with fines from the police or even worse a visit to the hospital and rehab. You know the ones?

Otherwise, a fall and a surgery to catch you all up on, stay tuned for that next Monday.

Follow Up – Older People’s Conversation

Published August 22, 2022 by helentastic67

Follow up – Older Peoples Conversations

I mentioned to a friend these were the conversations I’d been having plenty of. Rather than asking me what these “old and nonsense” conversations were about exactly, he told me I would have them one day.

So, I’ll allow you to pick from this next excerpt which three things qualify this as nonsense old people conversations.

Which I loved by the way because it gave me the perfect opportunity to tease him. Purely a statement.

“I made some brown rice the other day! It’s been about twenty years since I last made brown rice. It took ages! I’m never doing that again!”

Oh My God! Can you just feel that nonsense? It’s my jam. I have recently been making it more than I have in the last twenty years, I think because, while slow to the party, I discovered the rice cooker.

You know I insisted he get one but he’s still got it in the box and I now understand the old people thing about why they keep them in the box even after using it’s so they don’t forget all the bits and pieces that go with each gadget.

Is this what your “Old Person” does too?

Nonsense, Older Peoples Conversations

Published August 15, 2022 by helentastic67

Nonsense Older Peoples Conversation

Lately I’ve completely nailed how to get the most from my conversations with old people and if you want to know? Just keep reading…

In recent years I’ve timed my outreach calls to my father by booking it every two weeks. I call one fortnight and he is to call me the next. If he doesn’t, I will prompt him with a text… “Your turn!”

Recently, my beautician has mentioned she misses the nonsense old people conversations, so now I call him on speaker when I’m with her being tortured. It starts off dad being rather anxious. My beautician uses a few Italian words here and there which he often needs reminding what she is referring to. It’s a part of his memory he doesn’t use much. My beautician is often hungry as I’ll arrive too early and she has yet to eat.

She asks my dad if he’s had lunch? His response… “I had a sort of salad sandwich!” I hold up a finger to indicate for her to wait. She tells me to let him go. I interrupt him because I smell a rat, please define this word “sort of” and “salad?” I will cut to the chase, there was neither “sort of, nor salad”.

What he had was a very tasty sandwich which was fried chorizo on bread. A great treat I hope he’s not having every day.

Later in the conversation, beautician getting hungry enough to threaten to hit one of us; and not wanting it to be me, we stop talking food. We will mention this myth “sort-of-salad” in a teasing way and we all have a good laugh. In the end he usually tells us when he’s had enough. Beautician laughs and informs him he’s her favourite of my parents.

It’s turned out to be the highlight of my treatments. My torture is in the form of electrolysis to my face. Originally, it was to fix the damage from years on steroids for brain swelling, now it’s for my crazy hormones. I’m not going to be in the nursing home with a beard.

Lettuce – How much for an Iceberg?

Published August 8, 2022 by helentastic67

Lettuce – How much for an Iceberg?

Oh, Australia. Remember we had the fires, then yes, the plague thing, yeah, Melbourne has been through six lockdowns. I think Singapore is the only place that has lived through the same.

We struggled to get our hands on toilet paper and the term Karen was born. Did I mention, that was when I started a liver cleanse? Yeah, that’s right, ME, I made a one-off purchase of the dreaded home brand of Toilet Paper I can guarantee I’ll never revisit. The packaging claimed it was embossed. Um, it was Single Ply, I would have traded that little extra for another ply. Then, we’ve had floods, right.

Everyone caught up.

Now, we have the horrid prices and reboot of boring conversations about which lettuce is best and how much you need to pay to get one.

Seriously, it’s probably easier to get hard drugs. I was faced about a month ago with paying $13 for an iceberg lettuce. That’s my go-to. I had sent a new carer to grab me a lettuce while I got something else. She saw the price and called it out to me. I said “I’m sorry, what!” She repeated and another shopper came over to discuss this ridiculous notion. I recalled a newsworthy story I had seen and I told this other shopper. “Apparently KFC have started substituting cabbage for lettuce” He looked surprised. I told him… “I have to tell you I don’t eat their burgers for the lettuce!” I eat salad for my lettuce and I do like lettuce to be a staple in my crisper.

So, now I’m posting and bragging on social media I managed to get a lettuce the size off my head for $8.00. My last lettuce was down to a tiny heart and I wanted to list it on marketplace for $50 like when some smarty pants posted a Toilet Paper roll with its last two squares.

Lastly, I’ve been having plenty of nonsense old people conversations. But again, more of that later. Yes, it’s worthy of its own post and I haven’t written it yet. Next.