People Have No Idea

Published September 21, 2026 by helentastic67

People Have No Idea

So, every now and again things get added to the already full bucket of shit to deal with, and it’s a long process to get answers and solutions. People just have no idea.

Earlier 2025, my left foot had started to hurt. While I was already dealing with my base line of my fifteen years plus disability and the recent hernia surgery, vertigo, etc.

For a while when out in the community I was alternating between grunting/growling or swearing every time I stepped on my left foot. People with chronic pain have become really good at hiding it from others. Because nobody knows how to react when we answer honestly to the age-old question “How are you?”

I know I’ve started being blunter because people will never know if we don’t tell them, and then I must remind them I don’t expect them to fix anything. Because they cannot. I remind people this is why I have such a dark sense of humour and that I appreciate the gentle laughs we share.

Several conversations over time with all the people. The OT, the Podiatrist, my AFO guy in Richmond and to be clear my AFO guy stretched out the side of the AFO using a neat trick of putting lipstick on the raised calluses on my left foot of which there are two.

One particular day in this process I had mentioned it to my Neurophysio while she was working on my left calf and foot.

There was a moment of quiet contemplation where we were not chatting as she did her brand of torture to the muscles in my calf and foot. She sits slightly in my blind spot on my front left but I look down and she has removed her shoe and she is very clearly checking if her foot has the same bumps and bones where mine now has.

She catches me watching her, She’s twenty plus years younger and from the UK. I really like her. I snort a little laugh at her as she thinks she needs to explain what she’s doing. It makes perfect sense; this is not the only time someone alludes or outright tells me I have weird feet. If you haven’t gathered, the point here is it’s a process of elimination.

My GP sends me to the nurses at the clinic he works from and one of those nurses is the other Helen. We now have history also. At that appointment I’m lying on the bed in the nurse’s prep room and checking my foot she calls in the other nurse and I mean, why not make it a party right? Helen says to her colleague, sorry Helen. I don’t mean to offend you, but you have weird feet. Like I hadn’t been telling the beautician this on the few occasions I had her do a foot treatment, me trying to tuck my toes from one foot behind the other, in an effort to hide the very things I was there to have her make them soft and pretty.

I also moved to a much better podiatrist in this process and how to get even more by using tape on my foot to rotate it even a little for her.

Again, I snort a little laugh and my GP finally decided I needed an X-ray and an Ultrasound. I know, sounds extreme right?

One early evening in 2026, my GP calls to tell me of my results. I prompt him with my brand of dark humour. “They say amputate at the knee?” He returns fire with “Yes, the neck down!” Touche!

The diagnosis was a really big cyst of 4mm by 2mm. I know. Huge! It sounds tiny so why does it hurt so much? You know there were ways to put more swear words in there.

So, I don’t know if it’s too late to warn my delicate readers but here’s a picture from only yesterday. So, even after a year this still hurts like a Mother trucker!

Apologies if people needed a warning?

Hair Day

Published July 6, 2026 by helentastic67

Hair Day

These days I wash my hair twice weekly. I know today is going to be a boring blog post, but I think my life is full of little humorous moments and I like to share. Strap in, You’re Welcome.

Some of you might have read my early posts where I unpacked having had radiation treatment where I was left with bald, I mean BALD patches all over my head. I had a boyfriend back then who buzzed my hair back to a Number 1 and I’d had waist length hair, so my hair had been a big part of who I was.

The last fifteen plus years I’ve grown back my hair and had regular trims to keep it healthy. But it’s never likely going to be as long as it once was or as healthy. I’m also fighting the crazy lady hormones that doesn’t do our hair or skin any favours.

So, every Monday and Fridays my carer takes my hair down from the sassy bun I wear it in and gives it a brush. When I’ve had older carers, we have noticed my curly hair gives me a Diana Ross vibe. My carer wondering how I know who that is? Because I’m older than they realise.

This Monday gone my carer left the room and when she came back I was still sitting in the area referred to as the hairdressing area. She stated, “You know who your hair makes you look like?” I quickly responded Diana Ross? She is too young to know who that is, but I will give homework and if you don’t know you just got homework also. And she responded with one word. Dry, Succinct, Harsh.

Hagrid.

I snort a laugh. It’s not the first time and I have another sibling who is more Hagrid in the hair department. You have to laugh.

Not a Drinker

Published June 22, 2026 by helentastic67

Not a Drinker

Now, I do vehemently stand behind my statement that I barely drink, it’s very true despite the fact I have some serious alcohol in my home. Today I also went to a drive through bottle shop, also fondly referred to as a Bottle-O. Monday I bought some large jars and today I scooped up 2 Kilos of cumquats to make cumquat brandy. So, having a bottle of brandy at home already, I would be very annoyed if I started this process only to find I didn’t have enough brandy. I make a batch every few years as they need to marinade for four years. My oldest jar is about twenty years and its very dark I’m not wanting to need to crack that one open. I use the cumquats in my baking and the brandy is very nice in some lemonade, specifically Tarax Black Lemonade. It’s a nice Ladies drink, otherwise known as an aperitif. Explaining it like this, do I sound like a drinker?

It’s always much fun at a Bottle-O as I need to be directed to the brandy and they always show me their most expensive drop. I tell them I want the cheaper end of the market because when I’m done with it, it will be top shelf. The banter with the rather young male staff goes well and I mention while referring to my late-twenties carer I once went there for a small and cheap bottle of red wine to put in my bolognese and despite my carer being twenty, they asked her for ID, I asked today “Why don’t you ask the mid-life crazy ladies for ID?” I suggested while I’m not there for wine, they must see many hormonal women they just want to get them outta there with their wine.

Going to the post office I went to collect my two small parcels and I was offered five boxes of wine to which I swiftly replied, “No Thanks!”

So, circling back to my parting from the Bottle-O and my carer takes the purchase and calls back to me we can go. “Come on! Let’s go home and get drunk!” I laughed but hope he believed my version of our encounter. I do love the wit and humour of my carers, and their timing can be absolutely On-Point.

Middle Age

Published July 8, 2024 by helentastic67

Middle Age

I feel I’m now of an age (51) where when younger people, particularly those in their early twenty’s mention “when they were at school….” I pre-empt their next statement with “so, yesterday?”

I’m not going up to these very young humans out on the street, so I know they will take my comment with the humour it implies, because in the last fifteen years or so since my disability, I’ve had a lot of younger people with more qualifications than I have that I’ve forged friendships with.

The only problem with this, after you get over the music/pop-culture/etc differences where I give out lots of homework and eventually, they get who the likes of Diana Ross is.

Oh yeah, I take out my hair and I’ll catch a view of my boofy hair in a mirror. Even Mika doesn’t understand what has happened and who this weird woman is. I’m weird. Diana Ross? Not weird. You know that if you don’t know who that is? You just got homework. You’re welcome.

Then there’s the younger people in my life that have the freedoms to travel, work abroad, get married, settle down. Aaaaawwwwwhhhhhhh, it’s adorable, you can be happy for them and sad for me at the same time.

And I can just hope they circle back into my world at a later date and I get to hear about all the exciting things they have done in their absence.

Happy Easter

Published April 1, 2024 by helentastic67

Winter is Coming

You know those people that always have something negative to say?

Well, when I say something negative, I always like to try a bit of humour.

So here goes. I wanna be like a bear and hibernate when winter is not even officially here yet.

Grief and Humour – Part 2

Published February 27, 2023 by helentastic67

Grief and Humour – Part 2

So, while dealing with this whole grief thing I’m reminded of times I’ve seen women in the supermarket, they stop and seem to pause for a moment and a hand goes up to their heart and for a brief moment it looks like they just received some devastating news. I have been moved to ask if they are alright? And they pause and then they seem OK again and they reply as much and the day goes on.

Last Saturday I was attempting to get a loaf of rye bread carefully transported via a friend across town, delivered on the Friday, into my fridge freezer. My carer had suggested she could do this. But my first world problem in recent years has been a problem getting things into my fridge freezer.

Full disclosure, I also have a bar fridge size freezer and that’s full too. My carer has recently suggested I could live out of my freezers for six weeks without going shopping, but I’d eat a lot of chilli con carne, ice cream and stews, what a way to go.

So, there I am, fridge-freezer door open. My carer waits behind the door in the kitchen as I shuffled, to get the portioned bread into every nook and cranny, I talked as I worked telling her amusing little tidbits from my day, life, anecdotes of my life with my dad. Don’t recall now, even what I was telling her about, but every few sentences I paused, couldn’t speak. Wanted to burst into tears, but needed more importantly to finish my witty stories. I kept it together. My carer had told me I didn’t need to keep telling her whatever it had been I was telling her, but I finished both my stories and the task of getting all the bread in the freezer for safe keeping. Before I successfully closed the freezer door, I announced to my carer a little sadly. “I’m not leaving the door open because I don’t want you to see me cry” as I closed the door.

I just want to point out this is a hard job being ONE-HANDED! Just try it sometime. I offered my carer to open the door again and bathe in the brilliance that I had managed to achieve and she stated if she opened it again everything would fall out. I told her it would then be her job to get it all back in before she left.

So, I opened the door to show off my brilliant Jenga technique, from behind me the woman FUCKING SNEEZED.

And twos things fell out and we laughed.

You still get to laugh sometimes…..it’s just sweeter.

Humour and Grief

Published January 15, 2023 by helentastic67

Humour and Grief

I know my posts were more on the miserable side since my father’s passing last October. Can’t even consider it on the dark side, it was very dark times. But, despite all of this I’ll share with you a few of the more humorous moments I shared with family and friends. My father being only in his mid-70’s had spent a great deal of time alone in more recent years, pre-the Covid-19 even.

He kept himself busy with jigsaw puzzles, something we used to do when we were kids over the summer. Trying to sneak out the corner piece when it was close to finished so we could come in and help put in the last piece.

My father retired early, much to his annoyance because, before he turned sixty, he was diagnosed with bowel cancer, followed by his consistent, bladder cancer. (Similar part of the body!) he did chemo for both. He managed to keep his hair. Both times. Not his beard but his hair on his head, bit of a Legend.

Anyway, I digress, many jigsaw puzzles and more than enough cactuses. What’s the plural here? Just asked google. I’ll let you also.

Alas, his fight was over, sad. The next struggle has been where should the jigsaws and dry, sharp, prickly, spider web covered plants go? Yeah, I had told my father in recent years his life should all be about standing outside holding a garden hose, little effort. He couldn’t.

At the funeral, jigsaws were on offer to anyone to help themselves. I told a few, “If you don’t take one with you, I’m sending five to your home!” Mildly successful. Still some to rehome.

The cacti? My dad’s two brothers visited and we beckoned them over to about five pots busting with cacti and pups ready to be re-potted.

My two uncles, no idea what’s was about to take place, like lambs to the slaughter. “Dad wanted you to each have a plant. It was in his will!” And their children, now adults, the joy on my most tender-hearted uncle’s face “Really?”

Had to be honest, no. But he would be very happy if you took some. When they’re over Christmas, many of the plants had flowers. I like to imagine dad was smiling down on us.

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.

Today’s Lunch – 10th October 2018

Published October 10, 2018 by helentastic67

Todays Lunch

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

People often think people with disabilities don’t have a sense of humour, they would be wrong. Made the best disability joke yesterday and only two people were there to witness it. I was at Ross House where the self-advocacy group, I go to is located. All the resident organisations are not for profit (NGO’s) The lift is old and small and slow, there are stairs. I’ve never used them. There are four floors and with my young carer who normally escorts me shopping and cooking on Fridays in the lift and a complete stranger, the lift seemed to stop every floor on the way down yet there was no one there to get on the lift. I muttered to my carer as to why the lift kept stopping without anyone joining us? “Someone probably pressed the button and they got sick of waiting and took the stairs but, I can guarantee you it’s not someone in a wheelchair!” Yeah, I went there.

Disability humour

Wednesday has started a bit differently. No water in the whole apartment complex until after 1pm so lunch will be after my only appointment and I think it’s about time I put a myth to rest, I wrote in an earlier post how I dislike the “Like”. It may have been taken out of context. I love the “Like” I have only two ways to tell if people read or like my posts. I know it sounds needy, however, hit me with a “Like and comment” I need to be validated too. Oh, yeah! I just hit 200 followers. I know, it’s not that many to some of you. I still get excited by every single one. I go check out what you have to write about and hit you up with a “Like” so you know I dropped by. If you write about something I’m interested in or feel I can support you I will follow you also.

Like

Eventually I got out on Hellonwheels to get to my only appointment, which was to get stabbed, that being acupuncture. In true Melbourne style it’s spring. So, t-shirt weather if you are lucky to be in the sun but not catching the wind. I couldn’t wait to get home to put on some warmer clothes. I stopped to collect a little cannoli and a French donut (it’s got custard in it) and stop at the post office.

French donut

No photos today. But I can show you some cute toys I bought Mika last Friday. You have already shown more interest in her new toys by reading this. Except, well I think I don’t need to describe what obviously happened here.

Mika toys

Need more coffee, much more coffee! Medicine!

Coffee

Scooter Etiquette

Published June 11, 2018 by helentastic67

Scooter Etiquette

Get out of the Fucking way! Is that rude to say that? I did mention early on that I swear and that has meant I’ve been really good not to in print – much.

Get out of the way

Or I substitute other “words” or phrases, I do my best. Often when debriefing someone about some shitful situation, my frustration is so great every other word is the F* Bomb.

I do it with a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye and when I do this with people who know me they find my humour and appreciate it too. Thankfully.

Twinkle in the eye

Make a mental note: Surround yourself with people who make you laugh and smile and let you be yourself.

So, I’m getting back into my lunch at my favourite café on Wednesday, no matter how poor I am, so I can write and today, despite being Autumn in Melbourne I was able to scooter.

Lunch

As I was cruising along the High Street to where I have my last appointment and I park my scooter, I was stuck behind two girls just dawdling along. One walking, the other walking her bike, both definitely ‘blocked’ me (saw me other their shoulders) and neither decided to make room, so I could pass. I was late for my rendezvous with Young John and as I was passing the Post Office, I still wanted to make a quick stop.

Walking in front of scooter