You know those moments when Crazy Cat Ladies just can’t help themselves? I’m sorry in advance.
I was recently in an apartment standing in the bedroom, my carer measuring an area that was quickly deemed too small for my bed. The real estate guy asking why I need such a big bed? My Dad made my bed when I was about twenty-four and I’m not giving it up. Even more so because he’s gone, so he can’t make me anything else. I mentioned as much but four days later he was showing us another apartment and I’d thought of a better response, telling him, “It’s for all my future cats!”
Yes! C’mon! If I didn’t just nail crazy cat lady, I don’t know what will. He asked how many I have? Just one, so far.
You know those days you feel people you interact with will never forget you? I mean for good reasons; I like more of those please.
I’m hoping this young guy will help me lock in my forever home and if he can work for me as much as he will work for the seller, he’s got pudding coming his way. Pudding is not how I recruit my people, but it never hurts. Is that a bribe?
Wondering if people are doing a shit job for me because they find my disability makes it hard to do a good job? Or is it because they think I don’t matter? Would they do a better job if it was for themselves? Or someone else? Or are they just doing it until they get something better?
It’s always hard to know if people do an ok kinda job because they need the money or they give a fuck.
It’s part of the downside to needing carers or having funding to have people do things for you.
I think it’s about time developers paid attention and built in some things to enhance properties for residents.
Number one, put in an accessible toilet close to the entrance off the foyer. It should have a sign stating “Accessible!” For which I will ask “Are there any other residents here with disabilities?” Then it’s unofficially Helen’s Personal toilet. But you may use it, just keep it clean and tidy for all.
Also, while we are on the topic of bathrooms. Can they start designing apartments with one and a half bathrooms? That would be an ensuite and maybe just a second toilet with handbasin. I cannot tell you how good it’s been for the last seven years to have two toilets in my home and I live alone.
I get ready to head out with a carer calling out “I’m just going to the loo!” and they will return with “I’ll go too!”
So, at the end of the day there is no fighting when we get home who gets to go first or how long you can be there.
I’m sure I’ll revisit this at a later date so, to be continued.
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.
Which leads me to some wise words for future property developers.
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.
Jesus, I wept. I had to say goodbye to some old friends this weekend and I did the ugly cry. Even ice cream didn’t make it easier to bear, I had to pause the show to finish the ice cream so I could use my one good hand to administer tissues! Stat!
If you haven’t worked it out? I was watching the last season of a show I’ve been watching since 2018 and the final season of those show’s I like to save because my friends are still a part of life until I’ve finished it.
The title is a reference to the saying “Friendship isn’t a big thing – it’s a million little things”. I got this quote from the wiki page, if you haven’t worked it out, the show was called “A Million Little Things” and it’s never too late to watch it.
I started this weekend needing to fast for a blood test. I really don’t love doing adulting on a weekend. (Definition of Adulting is Bra and Shoes) But alas, my Crazy Lady Hormone Doctors requirements are very specific. Vampire visit is required on the twenty first of the month. The upside to Adulting on a Saturday.
Weirdly, then felt hungover all friggin’ day. Which is weird because I don’t drink. Finished my Saturday with hydrolyte and ice cream while weeping and that was after the single feature on my Single Girl Date Nite where I watched the film that made Amber Heard and Johnny Depp household names. I mean “London Fields” was a reasonably decent film leaving you guessing until the end; however, I wasn’t interested in the blow-by-blow account of the court case then, I’m less interested now. If you don’t know, best left that way.
Also still dealing with the fallout from my recent fall. Pun intended. I keep biting my tongue. So, I have to have my Chiropractor adjust my jaw. Not looking forward to that. At least I didn’t knock out my teeth. I know right.
Here’s hoping for a calmer week so I can get some more blogging done. I mean I have a few in here where I’m planning to throw shade at vegans, strap in for that one.
Last week I had reason to visit South-Side and my old neighbourhood from my twenties. Melbourne for many is split by a river called the Yarra River. When I first moved to Melbourne at nineteen my friends quickly informed me the river was not for swimming as it was likely to hide people with concrete boots. Think we now refers to those days as the Underbelly era. Oh, good times. Melbourne from a different time.
But nowadays we refer to the river dividing the South from the North. Once upon a time I spent my twenties living around Prahran near Chapel Street. I’ve been past several of the places I once lived only to find time did not stand still, several houses were gone replaced by new developments. And some beautiful Art deco apartments my friends and I envied in the 90’s on Dandenong Road can now be look up online. Ooh-La-La! Still can’t afford to live there. I mean the internet is a sneaky thing because I went down a rabbit hole and found this old dump I once rented.
I mean, it did not look like this when I once lived here but seriously. Now I can’t afford to live either side of the Yarra. A comedian once said “Never sit down and work out how much money you’ve spent on rent. You will kill yourself!” So not doing that, might add to that list, don’t search places you once lived but no that’s too late.
Now, who thought this blog was only about living life one-handed? Well, that’s still true but a girl’s still gotta keep a roof over her head and want to be able to get out of bed in the morning and still be motivated to put one foot in front of another, so that is why we have real estate porn. It’s not realistic, but its aspirational. Not achievable for most but it’s nice to look.
And if I may? I know I don’t normally critique films here because I don’t want to let on how much I watch TV and films for entertainment, but I feel in short, I must. Saw the 2024 take on the 1994 classic “The Crow” Can we not please? Stop it! We just don’t need another generation of young thin men with tilted heads and bad posture looking down at girls. The end.
So, as it is after 1am on the day this is to fly free I will attempt to keep this short and sweet. As if I could, I can but try.
After a successful weekend of films, Bridgerton, food and sleep and a lack of adulting I surfaced to prepare a late snack and coffee around 4pm Sunday, I made a sharp turn and found myself on the floor between my dining table chair and the kitchen bench. Yes, in simple terms I fell. I even reached up to stop the dinner plate that was still trying to settle on the table. If there was any other place harder to wriggle out of in my apartment, I don’t know where I would find it. But alas, extraction was achieved. When I am home and I find myself on the floor it is guaranteed I am home alone! Thoughts of how much I need a husband never more important than these times!
Falling halfway between my apartment door where I need to slide over and put my cuff and collar outside so whoever I can reach out to help me, can enter without me needing to slide over to let them in. My best option to have a fall is my bedroom to use the edge of my bed to lever myself up a little at a time. The bedroom is a location that offers carpet for under my knees and if I can message some upward direction, I have. Soft landing if I can raise myself that high. Because timing is simple, I had been awaiting the arrival of a friend that has been busy for the last year since I saw her last. She recently returned from eighteen days in Turkey. A photo of a different cat every day as requested I did not receive. She did try to pass off the same cat photo two days in a row but stated it was so hot there I withdrew my request. Alas, she returned with treats and I had to message her that I was on the floor and that I would find someone and dispatch them to bring her upstairs.
If you are new here, pre-Covid I had created a social media page to build community to help each other who are living in this apartment complex. Living in an apartment complex allows people to hide, it seems to encourage hiding unsocial practices because poor recycling habits and dumping broken furniture can be kept hidden and those that do these things can avoid reproach. This group allowed me to message a neighbour to ask her mum to come down. She is a very slim, petite Yah-Yah and has enough arthritic issues as is. While I know she will hover really concerned I know she feels helpless and concerned. I give her some busy work and she puts my milk back in the fridge. I message another neighbour, a couple who were returning from Pilates. Yah, Yah went next door to grab that neighbour. She was asleep having been home from night shift as a nurse but her sister also a nurse came to assist. I was able to wriggle to the bedroom (equally tight spot beside my bed) this brought back Flashbacks to the OT who had assessed my home as having too much clutter. My then-carer Joshie (she shall be called!) laughed when I reported this. I queried why she laughed? She had confessed she had the same amount of “clutter” against walls as we both have stuff and never enough space. At least my clutter was normalised. Meanwhile, even while lying on the floor beside my bed I lifted the clutter to put it on the bed, at least it was out of my way.
The angle under my bed and I stated, “there’s a pack of toilet rolls hidden under here!” More help arrived and having given up on getting up onto my knees and engaging my unemployed “core” to be more upright. I rolled to sit on my backside. I directed the only male in attendance to move behind me and after I disclosed how heavy I actually am (I’m just saying I weigh more than a feather and if someone’s about to lift me they need to know this) I don’t know why, but there is always something comforting about a Nurse taking your hand and telling you they are about to grab you by the waist-band of your pants and that it will only be uncomfortable for a moment. Thank Christ for weekend baggy tracksuit pants I say, or I would have had a wedgy.
The first person I hugged was the Yah-Yah, and I reassured her she had been of great help. I also reminded her, had she attempted to get me up I would have crushed her and she would have been found days later having expired. I don’t weigh so much, I’ll be getting my on-TV show, but I make this joke every time because despite how serious it all gets, it’s a great stress reliever.
On days I’m home, I often only put shoes on when I go out onto my balcony, but I’ll leave them on until late when I go off to bed, just to avoid slipping over. At one point before help came Mika (my cat) decided to come past, while my fall can be credited to socks on timber floor without shoes, Mika came towards me and one of her back legs went out from under her. So, it’s not just me. While sitting on the floor I also discovered a nice lump coming up on my chin. Never let it be said “Helen only ever does things by halves” I’m going to have a fun bruise on my chin and down the left side of my face I can’t wait to explain away this week.
I’m already trying a few out “this is not the result of day shit date gone wrong!” Full dark Yes! Or “I took it on the chin!” That is terrible, but I see myself saying it a lot this week. Or “I really did fall!” Here is a nice photo of my chin. Excuse the view up my nose.
One last mention to my Sunday carer that put a leave-in moisturizing treatment in my hair before putting it back up. Even with the fall, it didn’t move It’s not the best way to test if my bun is secured but here, we are. Shout out to her.
Also, a sadness to let go of the group I created for this building. My departure is imminent as the affordable rent I have appreciated for now seven years coming to an end soon. More of this to follow soon. Wow, it is 2am and I think time for bed, I have already secured my first of two-chiro appointment’s. Hope everyone has a good week. Note, not a question.
Just starting today with some much needed business, with a Happy Father’s Day for yesterday. As some of you may be aware its soon the second anniversary of my father’s passing, its crappy but it is what it is.
Meanwhile, yesterday marked the first day of spring in Australia and the first day of September. When the hell did that happen? I’m struggling with how quickly this year has gone, anyone else feeling like this year has flown with seemingly not much to show for it?
Also, almost a little Hot Off The Press Moment. Last night I was at Hamer Hall in Melbourne seeing the Celeste Barber show Back up Dancer.
4.3K views · 58 reactions | Celeste Barber on tour | Comedian Celeste Ba… Comedian Celeste Barber has announced her Australian stand-up tour! She came on TODAY this morning to tell us a…
My friend went to get us drinks and returned with a can of “Not Coke!” and it came with a plastic cup that we were to tip into the plastic cup, we were not allowed to take in the can. “What do you think we are going to do with the can?” I asked. Apparently, the obvious was “throw it” I asked why someone would throw a can at Celeste? and I followed this with “She’s, our Queen!” (Can not believe I said that!)
My next fine example of wit was to the next staffer, an Usher who was to direct us to our seat. “Where are you sitting?” to which I responded, “On my bum!” and I think our seats were too far back to do any damage to anyone on stage regardless of who they were with a can or otherwise. We know this is not the point. I’m just saying my coffee must have kicked in. What can I say? I’m pretty witty.
Meanwhile, if you are unfamiliar with all things Celeste consider yourself having just been given homework? Go, immerse yourselves in all things Celeste Barber on both Instagram and Tik Tok if you dare. I’m just saying, I cried with laughter, but I seriously cried. and my pelvic floor was already in tatters.
From the start to the very end and occasionally when all was quiet from the stage a giggle would break out from somewhere in the audience, including mine. I must say, I really love when comedians bring the audience into their world and share parts of who they are and some anecdotes about their lives you would never imagine, so human, and so funny.
I’m yet to write my posts about the shows I saw in the 2024 Melbourne International Comedy Festival, but this year Celeste is the first of two shows I’ve booked outside the Festival and I’ve already booked a show for next year’s Festival. You know I have my Dad to thank.
I’ve had migraines since I was young. I don’t remember when they began, I just remember how my Mum solved them. I remember she made a furtive call to whom I didn’t know. Then she would take me on a drive, across town, out on the old freeway, down the road opposite my first primary school, down a dirt road that was a driveway, and after parking next to a building, we entered from the back into a waiting room. it had plywood panels on the walls with long coloured ribbons hanging around most of the wall space.
Apparently, my osteo was also a bull breeder that had awards, not your average osteo. He had a rather Dutch name. Upon entering a buzzer alerted the Doctor his patient had arrived and he would come in before we even sat down.
I remember the last time I went to see him; my dad had offered to take me as he had come home from work and as my Mum had been busy making dinner he volunteered to take me. He didn’t know where it was so with my migraine I directed him. I have to say, he did not trust the location for this “hocus pocus” form of medicine. I remember going inside and how uncomfortable he was. The Doctor arrived and I had to remove my T-Shirt, never does a 12-year-old girl feel so uncomfortable. a towel draped over my non-existent boobies, adjustments, massage and stretching and a payment made then back home again for the magic to settle the pain.
Forty years later, I still see a chiropractor and yesterday I told her I’d had a weeklong Walking/Talking migraine which is my regular these days, it’s just enough to annoy me but not enough to cripple me so I can ignore adulting and responsibilities and just go to bed.
She asked what parts of my face was I feeling it? Because I can usually narrow it down. Left eye, right eye, the thing, the thing or the other thing, this time, while lying on my back I used my hand to wave over my face. “My face! my whole fucking face! like I’ve been hit in the face with a basketball!” I’m really glad people can find humour in my pain.
I do sometimes wonder what happened to that Osteo who breeds bulls and I did about 15 years ago see someone down in Geelong that turned out to be the nephew with the same surname. What a tiny world we live in. It does weirdly help.
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 