The Theft

Published November 24, 2025 by helentastic67

The Theft

Throughout the course of the week as I politely told friends about the theft of Hellonwheels, one friend I did not expect uttered the C-Bomb. You know the one, I’ll never utter the word in print even in this kind of context, but I will refer to it as rhymes with punt or UNT. When said friend uttered this word I cringed and shook my head. She asked if I was offended? I told her no but surprised she uttered the word out loud.

A gay male friend a little younger than me once said “It’s OK when you see your friend across the road and you yell out to them: Punt!” And all I could think was we have very different friends. I have a few friends who do use that word and I appreciate it in the context that it is used and allow it, but it’s not a word I use.

I did do a police report over the phone that day and eventually received an email stating I could do a Victims of Crime Application. Because I’ve all the time in the world for that. I have been advised I’m not likely to have it recovered.

So, by the end of the Tuesday I was a little calmer as I was consoling myself by suggesting there was a fuckwit out there walking around on two broken legs. They just didn’t know it yet.

I had at first wondered why someone would steal a mobility scooter. Getaway vehicle? Spare parts? Just what the actual fuck!

The problem if not obvious is the layers and complexity to solving this problem is so big. People would have no idea how hard it is.

I think there’s a whole bigger conversation about the word that rhymes with punt that is yet to happen. But I feel women should reclaim that word because it’s ours and we should reclaim it. If men think they can use that word because they came out of one. Yes, I’ve heard that line. No buddy! That’s not how that works.

Another carer and I were discussing while in her car one day that twenty years ago when I first moved to this area my voting enrolment district was called Batman. How cool is that? As well, in more recent years it was changed to Cooper. Boo! Because my carer stated bluntly, Batman was a punt. Which means he was a white early settler in this area who killed the original landowners in this area. So, punt indeed. Accurate.

Problem Solving

Published November 10, 2025 by helentastic67

Problem Solving

I’ve been trying to solve a problem in my new home since moving in last November. It’s such a mess.

There are so many moving parts and potential solutions but more people to ask permission from before implementing solutions to the problem. So, the work around feels like a real fuck around.

Sometimes, I wish a clairvoyant or divine entity would just point you in a direction and narrow the field for you.

Here’s a real estate example which has been the perfect example whenever I’ve been on the hunt for a new home. I gave this example to a friend earlier:

If you wanted to only live in Ivanhoe and you had a set budget, and you wanted a certain number of bedrooms, bathrooms, car spaces, etc, etc. And if you couldn’t budge on any of those parameters. Maybe money wasn’t a limiting factor and you absolutely had to live in Ivanhoe; you would spend what you needed to spend.

If budget was important you would start to compromise on different things depending on what you could live with. Maybe less bedrooms, or whatever, but eventually you didn’t even live in Ivanhoe.

Maybe a clairvoyant could point you in the right direction and suggest Ivanhoe. Yes! But start looking for something a little smaller, or …..xyz. Then you wouldn’t waste your time trying to find all these other solutions.

Just an FYI, I didn’t have Ivanhoe money so I’m just giving that as an example. People that live in Ivanhoe have Ivanhoe money. You can’t hate them. You just appreciate them.

This is one of the major things on my list I’ve been chipping away at and made all the worse by a “friend?” suggesting I needed to get on my issues, like I was being lazy? Who needs enemies when you have friends like this?

So, the problem? I feel a part two coming on

I’ve had my mobility scooter AKA Hellonwheels for the last 15+ years and every time I’ve moved, I’ve had varying degrees of storage and weather proofing, security, etc in storing my Hellonwheels.

Some places I’ve lived at were easier than others for scooter storage alone. One house I rented didn’t have room to put my shed up for the scooter, so I ended up putting a BBQ cover over the scooter in the backyard close to a power supply and using locker straps around the cover to secure the cover and waterproof my scooter. It was a fuck around solution.

At my last rented home, an apartment, my car space didn’t have power so I was able to swap with a neighbour so I could erect my shed, park my scooter inside and charge it. I also stored my gardening supplies, and at one point my oversupply of pasta and tinned tomatoes, and my panettone.

I am such a Nonna!

My landlord queried what I was storing in my shed and I suggest Owner Corp and landlords do not have a sense of humour. Don’t say what I did? I responded to their original query that I wasn’t cooking meth or anything. My shed wasn’t big enough for that and I ended up using the lights on the front of my scooter to illuminate the inside of the shed to show them the contents. Seriously!

And while I was living there, I could go in and out of the only entrance to the garage on my scooter, I could go straight into my shed or go up on my scooter in the lift without causing damage. Parking near my apartment door and transferring items gathered into my apartment one item at a time before returning my scooter down to the shed to store and recharge. When I had more to take up and less time, I’d unpack items into a market trolley I stored in my shed and take that up.

Every pedestrian entrance to that complex had zero access for a scooter, and therefore no access for a wheelchair, except the B1 level or the carpark, just to give you a bigger picture.

Good thing I only have used my scooter for solo shopping missions locally as well as prompt local appointments where I get to maintain a level of independence.

So, when I moved to my forever home, the real estate agent showed me the apartment. My car space, the lift, the direction of the closest power supply to my car space and basically gave advice on both my disability and access to things he had no working knowledge on and directed everything to be sorted by the owner Corp when the time came.

I don’t know if anyone else has had to deal with an owner Corp, or had to solve problems of access for someone with a disability? And under the NDIS I have people for that right?

I prompted my support co-ordinator if she could get on that and sort things so when I moved, I wouldn’t lose my independence around needing my mobility scooter. After multiple prompts I was provided with a company name and the comment that they were expensive.

You might imagine the title of that person, being a Support Co-ordinator would mean they um, Support and Coordinate?

But it often means THEY DO NEITHER OF THOSE TWO THINGS!

So…

Side Note

Published September 9, 2025 by helentastic67

Side Note

Does anybody know how to make a Voodoo Doll? Asking for a friend.

Does anybody know what a transformer costs? When the one was stolen from my car space in the garage I figured WTF at least I still had another on my actual scooter which was being parked in the other side of the carpark close to my actual home and closer to where I still hope to store and charge it.

While finally getting to the point of negotiating a location to charge it. Some bastard returned and stole that transformer also. They cost over $500, if anyone is interested.

Thankfully, I got another transformer through funding but was not putting it to use until I could be guaranteed it would not follow the others. Are you all as frustrated as I am explaining this?

Sorry, it’s about to get worse.

The handyman installed an EV (Electric Vehicle) Battery cabinet to a wall near an Owner Corp power supply so I could charge my scooter finally. I moved my scooter to that location. It was charging.

By this stage, Autumn was closing in and day lights savings over. I don’t know if people are aware, but I am not waterproof and neither is my scooter. At least the electrical parts of my scooter. So, coming home after sunset on my scooter is often fraught with people not seeing me.

I also can’t see very well in the dark being half blind, so adventures on Hellonwheels ceased.

New Hellonwheels

Published September 1, 2025 by helentastic67

New Hellonwheels

Have I mentioned I’m getting a new Hellonwheels this year? I know I haven’t. I’ve been too busy sorting the permanent housing or garaging and powering location for it in a communal garage.

To be fair, I had asked my support coordinator before I moved back in November 2024 if she could help sort these things before I moved so I would not be without the use of my scooter. The best time of year to be out and about on my scooter is summer. I literally had to pester my support coordinator to assist me with this task. In the end she did neither of those things. Support or coordinate.

I received a text with a company name who helped with this issue and the comment that they were expensive. I have never been angrier. Or so I thought.

At my previous address and all previous addresses over the last 15 years, I had been storing my scooter in a shed that had been funded for me by my first OT and over time it was a method of great importance and security to maintaining some independence for allowing me to get to local appointments without the assistance of carers or doing some hunter/gathering solo, to get ahead of when I did have carers for limited times.

When I moved, I concentrated on the things inside my new home. I don’t know if you have ever moved one-handed, but I’m limited by weight and size. For something without ADHD when I move homes I find I am always moving around, moving things from one location to another until everything settles to where I can best store, access or use it one-handed. Somethings only I can put away as I need to be able to get it out again if nobody else is around. Somethings that worked in my previous home may not work here.

I lagged in storing my belongings in my storage cage because I had to wait for my handyman to bring bolt cutters. I wanted to have him cover the inside with black plastic. to keep prying eyes from my belongings, my gardening supplies and my boxes of bits. Don’t need to explain that I hope. I was not allowed to erect my shed in my car space because its height got in the way of the sprinkler system and storing my scooter there was redundant as there was no power supply I could access and all the other fucking things.

I had been so busy sorting inside my home, I had implemented the theory of Schrodingers Cat to the belongings in my car space.

My neighbour who has the car-space beside me informed me my belongings had been rummaged through. When I checked I found a transformer for my scooter had been stolen. What the actual F. Do I need to finish this sentence?

At least this meant I poked my handyman to sort out the things by stopping ‘Mr get these things away’ And then…

Spitting Chips

Published August 11, 2025 by helentastic67

Spitting Chips

Now, this post should come with a warning, there will be swearing or alluding to words I normally will not so much as utter, but I feel you will allow considering the circumstances.

There was one particular Monday, I went down to fang it to a 12.30pm appointment. I had another appointment at the same practice, so Hellonwheels comes in handy. Even allowing me to scoop up take-away on my way home and maybe some items from a supermarket. Fresh milk anyone?

I went into the garage and had two sets of keys in my hand as well as my walking stick and the flag for my scooter. I keep the flag inside as it’s not my first flag. If it’s a selfish person or a low hanging branch they seem to walk.

I walked in the direction of my scooter and looked up, my step slowed when I realised it was not where I expected it to be. The transformer cords dangling loose out of the EV cabinet. Eyes wild, I couldn’t decide if I leave the flag where I expected to find my scooter.

But time was short, I only had 20 minutes until my first appointment, I couldn’t afford to reschedule. I had to get to both that day.

Mother trucker!

What kind of LOW LIFE Scumbag steals a Mobility Scooter? I’m still months later yet to cry. What’s the point? Too angry! One-handed without pockets I was juggling two sets of keys, my walking stick and the flag. Don’t even know why I was still holding on to that.

All while calling my lovely Young John. No time to talk. Was he free? Could he help me get to my appointment? Use the key to get from the carpark into the foyer and then the lift.

Next call to who Young John would refer to as my Indian boyfriend. Basically, any other taxi driver I call to be my transport.

I had to problem solve getting to my appointments. Unlock my front door after going up in the lift. Put flag and scooter keys inside. Back downstairs and out to the street. Get in taxi. Call Owner Corp regarding CCTV Footage. That process alone should have been easier. Made it to my appointment only fifteen minutes late. So grumpy, I did not manage to sleep at my physio appointment. So angry I was.

The Average Day of Getting Sh*t Done – Part 2

Published August 11, 2024 by helentastic67

The Average Day of Getting Sh*t Done Part 2

As you may recall, it was as per usual bestowed upon me to sort out getting my mobility scooter back on the footpath (it does not go, or should not be driven on the road) somebody had asked me in this process, there should be somebody to do this for me? I really wanted to give her a “Yes! You Bitch!” but we all know that’s not appropriate? Hence, why this ‘Bitch’ did it with little help.

I think the same day service took two weeks in which time I could have been out every day on my scooter and it was all the more exhausting without Hellowheels. It also only cost me 80% of the NDIS funding (for repairs) I have for such things and all the other things I can’t get, for instance, reports etc. So I can get them done?

You will be pleased to hear I had asked if I could get NOS installed? It’s OK, he didn’t know what this was either.

I referred to the Fast & the Furious franchise, where even if you only saw the first film, I described it as that magic button the drivers use at the critical point in the drag race to increase speed.

NOS, apparently Nitrous? Google has not helped me further on this, but it’s enough, right? After Eric was done installing my new batteries, all while I was doing my intro over the phone on speaker, Eric returned, letting himself into my apartment with my spare keys, he had almost forgotten to return them. I offered him a homemade Black Forest Biscuit, suggesting me take it for his drive as he bit into it right in front of me.

When he returned with my keys, he touched the bridge of his nose informing me he just realized he had bumped his nose as it had dried blood on it. I told him to “Come here!” as I opened a jar beside me on the couch and “take this and go look in the mirror in there!” I transferred the cream from my finger to his in my efforts to provide basic First Aid.

Eric departed and I wound up my call, doing my own referral over the phone to my new Shrink.

It’s all in a day’s work. I’m also while very grateful I have the capacity to do this, if I couldn’t who would?

The Average Day of Getting Sh*t Done

Published August 5, 2024 by helentastic67

The Average Day of Getting Shit Done

Today’s title seems like an angry way to start but it is what it is. Yesterday I went to get out on hellonwheels when the poor girl could barely get out of B1, (basement carpark) so after limping back to my shed to put her back on charge and confirmed she was actually charging (it was), meanwhile my phone in my bag was going off, surprising, considering the amount of concrete I was under.

Back upstairs, I called to reschedule my physio appointment again. I should be getting there to get electrocuted every fortnight but lately every time I book my appointment, I end up needing to bump it, to prioritize something else.

Then, I go through my mental list of the calls necessary to get my scooter back to being a problem solver and not a hindrance. So, I call the people that used to solve it before the NDIS.

I start all my calls the same way, “Hi, I’m Helen, how are you?” And after I start this way, they usually assume I’m calling on someone else’s behalf, WTF! She is ME people!

I am distinctly aware most people don’t call on their own behalf, but this is how I get shit done and I can’t rely on anybody (should I finish the sentence there?) to do all the things for me to keep me independent.

Don’t take my grumpy tone as complaining, I’m very appreciative I can do this stuff, but I could do without the Busy-Work.

HellonWheels

Published April 29, 2024 by helentastic67

HellonWheels

You might have wondered why my last post saw me so fucking livid? I suggest that’s accurate and there is some context from that post relevant here.

Had a bit of a scooter out on hellonwheels today. It’s a Monday, often a stay-at-home day but stupidly, I booked my 5th Vax for Covid and out I went. I really enjoy going out on my scooter, my mind working overtime on all the things I need to write about, how freeing it is and how much I get to enjoy the independence my scooter brings me.

I stopped on my way home to chat to a new shop owner who looks to be the supplier of my next Messenger bag. So happy and I paused briefly at an intersection to make sure I did not get collected as I went around a weirdly parked tow-truck. It was to collect a small car with a two-initials brand logo, whose front end was a little dinted and the airbags had adequately deployed. Younger man standing sadly by the fence watching on with his hands in his pockets. I even stopped at the local post office to collect a parcel, the staff member seeing me coming came out from behind the counter to put my parcel in my hand. So, I could leave and the queue not so long. The woman in front of me looking questioning why I had been served first?

Scootered home checked letterbox. I can even do this while still seated on my scooter. Some fancy driving and reversing and turning enough to reach my keys from my bag on their elastic cord. Fang it around the corner, press the button on the fob in my pocket and while the garage door lifts, I reach back and remove my red flag to put in the back and I bob down a bit as I clear the gate. I normally fang it to the basement and back to my shed on B1 before putting her away stating I like to open her up a bit, the motor of course is not horses but electric, however it amuses everyone I’ve said this too.

However, seeing my scooter shed as I turned a corner, I was confronted by this!

Recall, I sent to my neighbour in my previous post how Chef would name and shame people? So, the above photos, I flicked a short but polite text to my neighbour. To my understanding she doesn’t live here anymore but her adult children do. But I spent several hours messaging her, my property manager etc, to remedy this insult. I was ignored by my neighbour. My property manager got onto the OC, the other tenants then a tow-truck company to remove the bike.

Bruises

Published January 31, 2022 by helentastic67

Bruises

I’ve previously covered that the definition of “to bruise easily” is finding a bruise on your body and not remembering how you got it. For over a week my carers have been pointing out this bruise on my left arm. And I recall exactly how it happened. This is from when I took on a fence while out on my scooter, it’s still standing but so am I.

I have a tendency to take the High Street to go out on HellOnWheels to do some Hunter/Gathering at times to help get ahead of what I need to achieve with my carer on a Friday and to be a little creative, take a break from the High Street, I take some smaller side streets to cut through the smaller streets, on this particular day I encountered a shopping trolley someone had thoughtfully left on the footpath leaning against a tree. I imagined I could fit through the gap. I was wrong.

I reversed, got off my scooter then pushed the trolley onto the road where a driver could curse the universe later. I continued home.

Since then, when questioned by my carers, I respond, “I took on a fence! The fucking thing is still standing!”

Tuesday

Published September 20, 2021 by helentastic67

Tuesday

Had a crazy Tuesday this week. Now it’s Friday and I’m sitting at my fave café for what has become my new normal day here to lunch and write. It’s the Covid normal.

In my early days of diagnosis, I felt the need to explain my life was less Brain Injury and more normal and my first specialist explained I was a high functioning ABI.

So, Tuesday was a bit more crazy than usual. This is probably a good example of me being high functioning. Keep in mind, Helen is not a morning person.

9:15am – Usual carer arrives for Personal Care. She does all her chores and I do mine.

I make breakfast and sit to eat. (Slam down my entrée of pills)

Turn my phone on. It starts, the bells and whistles, texts and calls and messages. I don’t know why I need to go off grid on the weekend.

I call and negotiate with my young John to get me to my first of two appointments. He can squeeze me in.

11.45am – I’m meeting my Neuro Physio. He sits on the floor trying to stretch out my left calf and front ligaments.

I have been diagnosed with a clunky ankle. It’s an official medical term. It’s causing and adding to my knee replacement one day. It’s already nice and crunchy! (My knee)

So, he’s doing him. I’m doing me. I’m checking texts, sending texts, then I’m required to stand favoring my left side and sit, twist my upper body towards my left to help my leg and foot do leg and foot.

To be clear, all this teases my brain. It’s not super fun, because my right-side brain is saying “you want to do what? Get firetrucked!” (Trying not to swear!).

And I’m dealing with one of my two agencies to fill a shift, the following day on the Wednesday.

It’s a 6-hour shift where I get escorted out, I do the things, we have lunch either out or at home and I set them chores while I scooter out to other appointments, they don’t need to take me to. It’s also when I fit other things in where I need muscles and things that I can do by myself or on P.T.

It’s a 6-hour shift. The texts from my agency go back and forth. Eventually, I’m offered 3 hours which I later describe as like putting a band aid on a bullet wound. It’s a great image, isn’t it?

I was responding that I could offer their shift to my other agency, as in the whole shift 6 hours. What pretty band aids on either side of that 3 hour. I need the whole 6 hours.

I mention via text, I’m in the middle of something and I need to be present in my appointments, but then I get a rather long shitty text stating they had spent 4 hours messaging other carers and clients to find me someone. It sounds like they think I’m ungrateful. The grumpy text ends with an apology for the text. I am now getting busy – this is eight days after I started.

Hopefully I can do it justice. But otherwise, could be, I didn’t get to read her whole message. I got the gist and immediately texted my other agency and if the person was not in the office, I rang them directly.

When I rang, I could even interpret the pause and inner office convo that happened in the background. A carer they have been wanting to send me for some time, they were just waiting on an NDIS checklist.

I confess it’s been two weeks since that fateful day. So, while this may not flow seamlessly from the previous post, I hope you can keep up?

So, I text the agency who is choosing to do their job the hard way, that in the middle of two appointments I need to be actively present at. I’ll get back to them.

It does already look like I’m covering the following days shift myself another way. I flick a text to my other agency. In case that staff member wasn’t in the office that day, I quickly call.

“What’s that?” I’m on the phone while my Occupational Therapist, (OT) who I’m just meeting for the first time is with me. “No, I told her she could absolutely go pee.” Respectfully, that makes us friends for life.

I call the agency and I can tell exactly the conversation that’s happening in their office.

“Oh, send X, Y, Z!”

“Is that Helen? Just fill that shift!”

There is no better motivation than me missing a specialist appointment because their afterhours staff member fucked up my Monday morning. My Botox appointment was rescheduled for two months further away. Botox keeps my left toes from curling (I know. What?). Yes! Botox in my leg.

Anyway, yes. The NDIA survey has been completed and X, Y, Z can cover my Wednesday shifts until my other agency can cover it again.

After my OT appointment, I head out and call my Heidelberg taxi driver. Young John is best at this time and so is Sean!

I hoof it to my far local pide dealer. Pide is not code for anything. It’s just where I get my vegie pide from. Another taxi driver has arranged that I can wait around the corner to make life easier.

On the drive home (10-15 mins) I text the first agency. I confess I was pretty grumpy earlier and wished to call my support coordinator to growl at the agency because I just didn’t have the bandwidth to give the polite diplomatic response.

Yet, I messaged something along the lines of, ‘I appreciate how hard it is to fill shifts when my regulars are away or don’t have a weekend. Then something that I genuinely did appreciate her efforts. Despite that, rather than ring me first to ask if she could wriggle things so she could cover three of the six hours of my shift. Would it be enough?

Sometimes it is but this particular day, I had placed other things in around and in between the appointments that required wheels and muscle.

I did all of this with a migraine.

So, that shift was moved for a month or so to another agency.

The following Tuesday I received a message asking if I expected them to cover my Wednesday. I had to remind them I’d moved it temporarily. This is what happens when someone tries to cover a bullet wound with a band aid.