Here is a little trial, if you like to get you in the instant mindset of having difficulties and challenges similar to that of having a disability.
Occasionally, I get a sore or ‘something’ that requires a bandaid on my right thumb!
That is my texting finger (Or thumb so to speak) I text a lot, it’s good way to message people who don’t have normal hours. I don’t have normal hours, but occasionally it means people can get back to me when they have time.
I even know a few people who keep similar hours as mine. So, if you text, put a bandaid on your text finger or thumb and every time you go to text, see how long it takes you to change your behaviour and routine to use a different finger or method.
Apparently, the cool thing these days for people who are ‘NORMAL’ is to use Accessible toilets in public places for SEX!
No, Really! There is a shopping complex in the city, I would cut through on my way from the train station to where I have my appointment monthly, with my shrink. (OK, my Psychologist/Social Worker, but I like to suggest I need a shrink!) (Or I get ‘shrunk) and I would always make my way to the Food Court down in the basement to use the accessible facilities. There was a doorbell to let people know someone was waiting and often I would be waiting so long the cleaner would come past and report they had been in there for ages.
Luckily for me if I’m desperate I can use the normal Ladies toilets with some difficulty, but I have to wriggle in, close the door, take off both my walking sticks and my bag before locking the door. I have to manage to pull down my pants, holding my upper layers up out of the way.
I think you get my point, so often if I’m not desperate, I wait outside the Accessible toilet door to see that the person departing is actually qualified to have used it!
Having the cleaner tell me what is more likely to be taking place in there, I confess, I start to knock and ring the doorbell more. What? Will that make it harder for them to finish? Sorry, I meant more difficult! No pun intended…
When they finally depart, a smug woman breezes past, holding the guys hand.
I usually will deliver them a really stern word or two to them and the guy looks back at me with barely a look of remorse.
I’ve waited for other Accessible toilets so long guys have gone into the men’s toilets next door only to reappear a moment later and try the door to the Accessible toilet. I raise my hand to say “that’s why I’m waiting!” and they again disappear into the men’s. I mean, c’mon! Everybody has to go to the toilet!
Hope you have heard the line; “Everybody has to eat! You don’t eat, you don’t shit! You don’t shit! You die!”
So, what if you need to defecate in a public toilet? That’s what it’s there for!
Anyway, excuse I’ve heard from perfectly able bodied people who think it’s acceptable to use Accessible Public Toilets!
Recently, a guy told me he had stitches coming out on his face! And he had to go to the hospital!
I didn’t notice any stitches, but maybe he should have gotten himself to a hospital!
I think it’s part of an Ice Epidemic more recently, but I also think it’s because people don’t think!
One of these days I might have to make someone my Bitch!
It goes like this! I open the door to the toilet just enough to insist the person next in the queue goes to a local department store, or anywhere and buy me new underwear and pants.
I will not even be able to give them any money…. As it feels like I never have any.
But that gives you an idea. What would you do if you were out in public and had as complete evacuation of your bowels and hadn’t made it to a toilet?
I have previously mentioned but just to remind you all. I write long hand on paper when the inspiration takes me.
Generally when I need to rant a little, or express my great frustration or want to share…..you get the idea if you have followed my blog long enough. I photocopy my writing and post to Noelle who is interstate and she types them up and we chat by email and social media. As this process, often means the posts that go ‘live’ there is a significant lag. Lately I’ve not written for several weeks, not been rather inspired to share, too busy living, dealing, treading water and keeping my head above water.
So, the plan to do a live blog at least once a week, the first few weeks just didn’t happen. And thankfully, Noelle didn’t push it. I was busy enjoying Jamima’s last few weeks.
I’ve also been house-hunting much to my dismay (there are no words to accurately describe how much I hate this) and dealing with the inadequacies of the NDIS. (Don’t get me started!)
Jamima has now been gone three weeks and obviously, that fateful week where I finally let her go, was just awful. It’s sad even now.
And now, I’m back at the plan of one live post a week of what is going on now…. and obviously, live, meaning I’m tapping away on my iPad and Noelle will edit my dyslexic efforts. I’ll give the final ‘Go ahead!’ And Noelle finds the memes and posts it live.
So, this week, this is the first post and no matter how my weekend goes. No matter how behind I am on my chores (emails, comics, admin, rest) I’ll tap out some words so I stay with my commitment to keep you up to date of what shit I’m dealing with now.
I confess to say PUBLIC ATTITUDE towards people with disabilities has always annoyed me. Even before I had my disability.
I’ve been with a carer shopping at a local market. Said carer at the time was desperately in need of a hip replacement so I helped her lift my shopping from the shopping trolley to her car boot.
A guy walked past with his two young impressionable children, his other half trailing behind and he decided to share his opinion that we did not look disabled and should not have been in a disabled car park. I pointed out to him we had the correct signage to allow us to park there and that it was approved by council in which I lived and my application supported by my doctors, you know the actual people with the appropriate credentials to make such decisions.
Ironically, he was a parent who had taken his kids to the local pub close by before midday and no one thought to work out if he was qualified to be a parent.
It’s weird how the littlest opinion can throw bad information into a fan to create a perfect storm. I once had a Carer complain to the office, my bed and changing it had given her a sore back.
My mum insisted on being at my house when a Team Leader and the OH & S person assessed my bed! They growled I was not to have the carers flip the mattress, which I insisted I would not even ask.
My mum keeps insisting I replace my bed. My father made it years ago, it’s mostly a sleigh bed with exception of the base being lower than the bed head. I’ve put the bed together more times single handed, than I care to remember.
And my older sister gets on-board to suggest I get a new bed. With what exactly? And then downscale all my bedding? I repeat – With What?
My older sister recently bought me a new walking stick with a really cool handle. It’s my early birthday present, but I think part of the reason she gave it to me is because my mum is of the opinion my walking stick has given me Carpel Tunnel Syndrome.
I don’t know, I wake up in the morning and I have pins and needles in my right hand. Just reminding you that my good hand, the only hand that works. I don’t take my walking stick to bed! Ergo! Case in point! Walking stick not to blame for Carpel Tunnel.
To some I might seem OCD/ADHD, to others anal or a control freak, however I just think I’ve developed coping mechanisms or systems to survive.
Let me give you an example;
You take a sip of your cuppa T and wonder if you put sugar in it because it tastes a little dry…. (you know that weird dry taste when you need just a sprinkle of sugar?)
You stir it, taste again. If still not sure, I check the kitchen. Once I’ve finished with the sugar bowl, I put it back where it belongs, on top of the microwave.
I have limited space in my kitchen, also so that helps keep things tidy by putting thing where they ‘belong’.
But I have plenty of “systems” and when someone else comes into my home and moves things around, it’s a very careful balance.
Not helped by my eyesight or lack there-of. I often have to go into an area or room twice. And then if I have people that move things without thought, that is beyond frustration…
I had a day off yesterday! I know, right? It’s nice to imagine being retired every day, is a day off. But alas, no! I do not have that kind of retirement; my weekdays are often filled with the appointments that help keep me going. Maybe, I’ve mentioned previously, chiropractor, acupuncture, shiatzu, myotherapy, GP appointments and the list goes on. I’m not even seeing a physio or an OT at the moment.
So, as I said, yesterday I had a rare day off. I confess, I slept until 1pm, with a false start at around 9.30am when my Mepacs alarm woke me. Damn blast-it. I blame Facebook for my late night… Oh, early morning the night before.
You know Facebook, you see a cute cat post, (yes, I’m that person) and the stupid thing won’t share it, so you spend 2 hours going through your newsfeed trying to find it again.
Case in point why I only get on once a week or so to do more then return messages and daily pokes. Yes, I’m that person trying to keep it alive, but when I finally surfaced I spent the afternoon making and returning calls, often both phones at the same time, emails.
And I still didn’t manage to put it all together to have lunch until 5.30pm.
Last night I was looking back over my recent posts and noticing the number of ‘Likes’ some posts have over others. I am definitely noticing that some posts strike a chord with people and that’s when they start to follow and then they seem to not stick around.
I, obviously don’t post to be popular, I just found it a little amusing, 7 complete strangers liked my post on depression. Clearly, I don’t want to talk about depression, every single post. That would be depressing…
I find the way I deal with my depression is, I vent some and I play a little loud music. Then, I hibernate. I find people don’t understand depression and they don’t realise you can be depressed and still be up and about walking around.
Are we all meant to be at home sitting in a dark room, wearing black, looking pale?
I confess, I do wear a lot of black, a heavy grey jacket, today on account of the weather, but under that layers of black! NO, really layers.
But anyway, where was I? Oh, yes…. Depression, I think writing about it, vent, but do something to move the negativity or else nothing changes.
Sometimes, maybe we just have to change our expectations and disappointment doesn’t snowball to be beyond despair.
I realise this sounds pessimistic, but I wonder if I’ll get more than 2 Likes for this post?
Music! The making of serial killers. The Australian Government Agency, then manages the distribution of welfare is called Centrelink. The nickname a friend used to call it was ‘Stupidlink’ which is a much politer version that what most people call it.
What I’ve found is if you are respectful, they will help you. This is when you get to speak to someone in their call centre. I put off calling them until I absolutely have to, because there’s nothing like being on hold for an hour just to tell them nothing has changed. I’m still poor, I still have a disability and I’m still living on the edge.
And that’s all after being tortured by the ‘On hold music’. I get the fact that the classical music chosen is meant to soothe, but it’s too busy! It’s too busy, and I can imagine people with serious mental health issues would want to kill themselves.
I like to refer to it as the music that is the making of serial killers.
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 