So, I posted those photos to a social media page. You know the one? I had created the page pre-covid to help people network/help each other etc in my apartment building.
When people consistently find themselves on the receiving end of pure selfishness, they post photos of the results of said selfish actions. As I did, only after texting the likely culprit.
Oh My God! Help Me! It got some response. I even sent texts to my actual property manager who contacted the OC, who contacted the tenants, then the tow truck company. And an hour later I got a grumpy rant on the group chat making it sound like she was the victim.
I then had to Admin the shit out of her inappropriate use of the group chat. As I had politely asked her directly, because I had correctly guessed it was her motorbike in front of my shed. She deciding to ignore my messages I then posted it to the group chat hoping to get a little swifter action.
The fact that she got very defensive and stated she had only stopped in for ten minutes and ended staying longer was all completely irrelevant to the fact she had ignored my basic right to have what she takes for granted.
Hellonwheels, allows me basic freedom to go some distances and do local appointments without needing to rely on others and do a little local Hunter/Gathering of items I can take up to and into my home one-handed.
I have a little confession to make, with a little humour.
When I was young and heartbroken, I was vulnerable to a distraction called XYZ. What? Did you think I would just tell you? I refer to a trashy American TV daytime soapy. Hence why I’m not saying which one?
I feel the judgement already. I just wanted to suggest the writers really should be aware some of us know when they are just recycling storylines. So, if you are a fan (is the wrong term, Hostage?) Carter and Hope. They should not be getting Busy. Someone say Uncle?”
Well, another year is over, it has been full of ups and downs. We at Hellonwheels wants to wish everyone a very Happy New Year and say a big thank you to all of you. We hope that 2025 is a year of all your dreams coming true.
This post is likely ahead of the first five to ten I’ve only written in my head but here we go. I’ve been doing a lot of research lately for where I will be next living, for how long I can afford to live there or just live in general, If I can afford to travel, in other words have a holiday and can I finally afford furniture from my favourite shop, can I afford any or all of these things?
I now utter sentences that includes words like “my financial advisor.” and it’s weird. I’m getting more comfortable with it but it’s still weird.
Don’t for a heartbeat imagine I’m wealthy however, my father, God bless him, has allowed me to consider life could have potential and could be a little sweeter.
A wise woman suggested I work out how much I need for the furniture I want, potential travel and work backwards.
Furniture, Holiday, Forever home, Check.
I just consulted the website to my favourite furniture store and my antidepressants are not strong enough.
After the recent radio interview, I recalled other things that add to my disability, even I just take it on the chin and get up and keep going.
Shortly after my disability, I had a little fall at the front of my home. My left foot got caught behind the supporting post of the fence to the balcony of the front veranda of the terrace house. It was a ground floor only terrace before you get too excited. and when I fell, I hit my head against the brick wall, also hitting my left shoulder. When I fell, I hurt myself so much that I let out a mauling noise my mum heard from the lounge room, coming to my aid. She called out “what have you done now?” As she walked down the hallway, I levered myself up using the gate under my tummy to get my feet under me then stood up.
Across the road the friendly neighbourhood lookout was on his chair on his balcony. He looked poised to get up and come to my rescue. I waved him away that I was ok. My mum was only down at that time because I’d been in hospital having had my disc-bulge surgery. So, my shoulder has forever been dislocated, or Sub-Luxed. But not. Are you confused? Yeah, me too.
My shoulder is out more than not. If I’d hit my right shoulder, it would have been knocked out of its socket. It would have been put back in, had surgery, strapped up. It would have gotten better. But my left shoulder? It was pushed out of the socket, but the shoulder muscles stretched to move with the shoulder and because those muscles act like an old elastic band they stretched and the muscle tone no longer exists to hold the shoulder in place, if it was put back in.
Early days I went to emergency, I went to the counter and told the nurse behind the Perspex glass why I was there, I’m good at this stuff these days. FYI: Use all the trigger words. I’ve got an ABI and I was there this time for a dislocated shoulder. She turned towards the back of the staff area calling out “dislocated shoulder!”
It was rather amusing really; I was seen to eventually. Lots of “Does it hurt?” and surprised because it doesn’t but it could be on account of my complete left sided hemi. I have limited sensation on my left. Who knew that would come in handy? Fuck all that could be done. I was given a sling that barely seemed to fit and sent on my way. Basically, mum encouraged me to go see a shoulder surgeon.
I finally got to see the inside of a beautiful building in The Avenue in Windsor and he effectively started with “Now, what’s wrong with you?” and I asked him “How long have we got?”
He told me surgery wouldn’t help as I didn’t have the muscle tone to keep my shoulder in place and surgery would give me secondary problems across my back. When I’m out I wear my left arm in a sling called a Cuff and Collar, or a Collar and cuff. Physios all look to each other when I enter a physio/rehab clinic like who is going to explain to this one why we do not prescribe to wearing those, I remind them I’m carrying around dead weight that drags and pulls on all the muscles up to my neck, adding to my migraines and the added secondary problems I think I have already across my back. Seems I got those without surgery.
So, if you haven’t got it sussed already. Problems arise all the time you seek treatment, sometimes those issues are resolved, but there is always the potential of other undiagnosed problems you don’t yet know about and you are always needing to do the Pro’s versus Con’s game to work out if you fix the thing and hope there isn’t something else around the corner? Or can I live with this and for how long?
Someone called me that today. I’m honest enough to say I didn’t know what it was, but as I left the lift in my building suggesting to the other occupant to join the Facebook page, I created pre-Covid to create community, I told him I’m the admin. He said “Oh, you’re the OG!” I gave him a hand signal I often use to communicate “cool”.
Once inside my apartment I consulted Google. I will let you do the same. I think it’s the Hipsters version of someone who is wise and is connected. Although I’m not sure Gangster has the best sentiment. I generally associate that term with something you want to be on the right side of. You have those friends not enemies.
I have friends that have those friends. It’s safe enough for me.
How to behave yourself in social forums is next level. Yeah, we get it, the younger generation think anyone butchering the stickers and acronyms are Boomers. But the young kids are getting a lot of the etiquette wrong too.
I’ve joined community groups over the years and I know I was late to join the main social online forum. You know the one? I’m referring to (I won’t say the name!) the one designed to connect University students that the algorithms seem to think everyone in the whole fucking world needs to be friends. Yeah, that one.
Lesson Number 1. You send a friend request to a group. They don’t have to welcome you with open arms. If they accept you and welcome you in a post.
Lesson Number 2. Say Thanks for the add, if there is a question asked of you – Example “tell us about yourself?”
Lesson Number 3. Answer the fucking question.
I know we all get it wrong. However, the older generations have the experience of life before the internet, we actually know how to speak to each other. We will even still pick unpacked phones and call each other. It’s much harder to insult people or get away with it face to face.
I’ll tell you one good thing, no wait, two good things about why Helen not children having is a good thing.
One, I’m still alive. I have been of an understanding since my AVM diagnosis when I was 34, I’ve learnt many things. Such as, Ladies, when we are pregnant our bodies blood volume doubles. Ok, google tells me it’s somewhere between 20%-45%. If I’d gotten pregnant, I could have had a stroke and been in a coma until I came to full term. Had the baby by C-Section, then what? Interesting, I’ve seen this exact storyline (minus the AVM) on medical dramas.
If it doesn’t scream at you, the Universe really looked after me by sending me ONLY SHIT BOYFRIENDS. I don’t know what else does. I’m still here.
And the other good reason? Well, I’m not going to hand down any shit family trauma or baggage to children. To the whole universe of people, You’re welcome.
Some time ago I picked up a follower that was a dentist or somewhere in that industry. So, this is definitely a question for them and I notice possibly any industry where they have patients/clients, etc.
Here’s the question – at what point in any treatment is it too soon to start saying “we’re almost finished!” Because honestly, when I get my teeth cleaned, and my anxiety is real, I’d ask am I a total squirmer? I hate it and that says something when I mention I’ve bared knuckled fillings. Now, I will do the same if it’s not a deep filling needed, but if I start to feel them working away on my teeth I’ll tap out and tell them I’m happy for an injection but seriously, I hate the clean so much.
Literally, as soon as the big heavy x-ray jacket comes out, I don’t give it back. What? You want it back now? No chance. I think I better appreciate that people with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) like weighted blankets. I also prefer to sleep with layers no matter the season.
But, alas, I digress, please tell, can anyone give me an answer to the question? How soon can you tell someone the torture is almost done?
I heard it’s used as a calming comment offered way too soon and repetitively when please give me some credit that I know you are not nearly close enough to be finished. I mean really. If someone can tell me when chronic pain ends? That would be great. I know it ends when I’m dead. But before that?
Didn’t think I was going there today. Yes? Don’t want to need to remind people, if they have read this far however, please hit Like.
A woman saw the bruise on my chin today. Six days later, she asked “You fall over? For what? Nothing!”
I didn’t bother explaining to her and shrugged and then the best response I’ve had all week, one word. “Fuck!”
Also, it helps to know I was in an Italian supermarket. Well Greek, but wog I guess so sometimes I love the non-PC and non-business-like response I can get from this sector. I seem “white” to many people in Australia, but in the “wog sector” I’m part of their own, as my father was Italian and I look enough European in that setting, they will not mince words. I appreciate that and respect it.
About 2 weeks after my fall and the bruise was mostly gone, I was at my favourite cafe and the longest serving hospitality staff member Gabby said rather simply “It could have been worse, you could have lost all your teeth!”
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 