Hell on Wheels

All posts tagged Hell on Wheels

Hell on Wheels/Life One Handed

Published November 27, 2015 by helentastic67

Hell on wheels

So, you have probably worked out my blog is not like all the other blog’s you have read and you could fairly presume so far it’s a little on the dark side.

So I think I’ll take the time now to explain the title of my blog.

“HELL ON WHEELS/Not my Best!” (changed it to Life One Handed)

To be clear, my blog has nothing to do with the super awesome AMC TV show called Hell on Wheels. Yes! I watch it! It makes my list and I’m happy to report I’m actually up to date.

So Hell on Wheels is a nickname a friend of my sisters gave me about 20 years ago. I don’t know why, but he is the only one who calls me that and I always kind of liked it. About 8 years ago, I developed a disability that “someone” in their intimate wisdom decide to sort me out with a Mobility Scooter. Some might call them a Rascal! I’ve always called mine ‘Hell on Wheels!’

I’m still working getting the “stickers” to go on the Red plastic. Hell yes! I got red! Red things go faster!

More on Rascal another time.

The other part of my title “Not my best!” is because over the last 6 or so years, I’ve been a monthly regular at some groups and I thought to provide “morning tea”.

No one asked me to, I just did it. It made me really happy and motivated me to do something challenging, considering I’m one-handed. I like to make muffins that have countless ingredients and the difficulty rating is high.

I often deliver my treats with an “it’s not my best!”

Even if sometimes my ‘NOT MY BEST” is better than most people’s best efforts.

I have had those days when I made a family classic from my childhood, the “American Lemon Cheesecake” and it’s been so long since I made it and any recipe had been altered just slightly and it didn’t set.

The place I took it where some people are so happy to see me/get my ‘treats’, they rush up to me chanting ‘Helen’s here! Helen’s here!’

A chefy-dude (my boo) works at this mysterious place and any disasters in the kitchen I share with him. The cheesecake I told him had not set and I really wanted it to have The Masterchef Treatment. Where you take the plate over to the rubbish bin and you just tip it up.

The flavour was there, the consistency was not. It’s been about 3 years and I’m due again.

So, I guess if you haven’t worked it out my blog is going to be about living with a disability.

Not ready to tell you how that happened. All the better for you to not jump to conclusions once I disclose that.

Rest assured my disability is NOT self-inflicted and there are those that judge that comment negatively because perhaps theirs was self-inflicted, but not how you might imagine.

I hope in time you might stick with me for some more whimsical “stuff” (content) and I might even sneak in some recipes and learn a little about what life was before my diagnosis and then my disability.

Please hang in there and bear with me. Help me achieve what I have set out to achieve.

On a Happier Note

Published November 26, 2015 by helentastic67

Happy note

On a Happier Note.

On the upside, as a Barren Spinster (thank you Kitty Flannigan for bringing back the term) and as the proud parent of a Fur Baby, in the family, I’m starting to understand the benefits of more than one cat. My cat is very fussy about her food at the moment. If I had several cats (not going to happen) surely one of those would eat the food, mine currently refuses!.

While I’m on the topic, I’m disgusted at the double standard that a single guy can have an online dating profile and think its okay to claim to have 3 cats, but he’s not interested in a single female with 1 cat – need he say more? – Screw him!!!

Torture for Sure

Published November 26, 2015 by helentastic67

Torture

Today, while I was in the shower, my carer was helping me with a chore, somewhere else in my home. She call out to me –

‘Has your boyfriend been staying over?’

To which I replied ‘WHAT! What boyfriend?’

‘Well, you have all these pajama tops and no pants!’

I told her I had folded the pajama pants already and put them away. Hence why she thought I’d been getting some “action” where the pajama pants were optional.

I informed her – ‘I prefer a little above the waist ‘action’ before any below the waist ‘action’!’

She called out that she was in agreement.

It would probably surprise people that most my friends these days are 10+ years older than me. We have little in common but they’ve seen me naked. They are my carers. I see them more often than I see my actual friends. But this is an example of my sass and why I think my carers like to work with me. Nothing at all to do with seeing me naked.

“Torture for sure!”

DEPRESSION! THE FUCKING POINT!!

Published November 26, 2015 by helentastic67

DepressionI may have written this before, but there are a set of questions that people ask to assess a client/patients/mental status. Usually when I get asked these questions by someone who is trying to help me; A doctor, a psychologist, case manager etc. And they are often embarrassed to ask. (I have been probed by many embarrassing questions) After a few questions, I rush in and answer the ‘rest’ of the questions. Let me lay them out for you. They go something like this:-

Have you ever tried to kill yourself?
Answer – No

Have you ever thought about it?
Answer – Yes

Have you ever planned way’s to kill yourself?
Answer – Yes

At some point I cut off the steady flow of questions with the rest of my answers, something like ‘Yes!’ ‘No!’, ‘No!’, ‘Yes!’, ‘Hell No!!’ ‘My mother would revive me to kill me herself!’

This usually confuses the person asking the questions. So the rest of the questions go along the lines of – ‘Will you attempt to take your life?’ ‘No!’ Are you sure (or something along those lines)?’ ‘You will not take your own life?’ This is the answer where I mention my mother.”

I am largely seen as someone with a happy disposition and to be clear, it’s a façade! I cover my sadness with humour. I do it very well. But to be clear sometimes, I think – ‘what is the fucking point?’

So you better appreciate the ‘Fucking Point!’I am a 41ish year old single woman who was born with a brain injury.

After a reasonably  “normal” life with the usual ‘hopes and dreams and aspirations for a kind world, love, family, children, a career with some moral standing and happy outcomes, a home, friends, holidays to faraway lands and enough abundance to give generously to others in need.

I was diagnosed with said brain injury and treatment to which ‘cured any potential of a stroke or certain death, and left me with ironically a permanent disability, resembling a stroke!’ And some!

Painfully, people don’t understand my chronic medical conditions and doctors have no answers how someone is born with a brain injury.

So it’s completely inconceivable that what my reality today wasn’t self inflicted.

I don’t fit into any ‘boxes’ for funding and now it’s questionable even the NDIS (National Disability Insurance Scheme) will solve any of my current problems either. It’s been the only beam of light at the end of the tunnel in the last 5 years I’ve had, my permanent disability and NO FUNDING.

So should anyone ever stupidly ask the question, “Why?” She seems OK. She seems happy. She was coping.

Let me answer this now!

I was not happy! Even with a disability, I was barely hanging in there!

To all those people tendering for business and doing big money grab to work in the Disability Sector, you dropped the ball! It was all about helping yourselves. I am NOT AND NEVER HAVE BEEN A COMMODITY, in your game.

My disability and my struggle has not been for your entertainment and your resources to beg corporations for funding.

Give me a Solution NOT MORE PROBLEMS!

If you can’t – STOP HELPING

*And to the best mum in the world! We fought a good fight and there was nothing more you could have done. You don’t deserve another of your children to have perished. However the constant dealing with all the idiots just got too much.