Not a Bad Advocate

Not a Bad Advocate

So, continuing with the grumpy women who disrespected me and felt she could or should tell me she thought I was a terrible advocate. I’m just saying I made this happen.

I know to a start with it does not look impressive. However, its perfect because down in Clifton Hill there are still some sections of the main roads that have the old grey stones and very deep gutters, where regularly people attempt to drive into a particular car parking spot just near my GP. Fairly certain I’ve made my own Mother nearly lose her mind when she did not want my advice on how to park her car. 

But I can tell you I have a carer that wishes she’d taken my advice as this was the predicament, we found ourselves in one lovely Thursday afternoon.

While she consulted her insurance policy on her phone. Checking the fine print if they covered a tow truck? Pretty fine print on a mobile phone. Definitely. I decided to go find some Muscle, as I referred to it. A local cafe yield was two men. Discovered the car was front-wheel-drive and the muscle did not want to risk trying to lift the front of the car, not a big car, but good not to add physical injury to a sad stuck car. 

A mum, in hospital scrubs was dropping her daughter to get her braces stopped to offer a hand. A man in not even a cheap suit enquired what our problem was? Note the difference there?

I had rung a few friends; some advice was offered but I couldn’t convince my carer to try it and the not very useful barely-suits man who didn’t want to get dirty. He didn’t look like he’d gotten his hands dirty in his life, would give it a go.

In the end my carers son came from work, swapped cars with us so we could continue our shopping and getting gear for the following days chores. He waited for the tow truck. 

While waiting, several locals told us there were several cars each day that got themselves into trouble at that location. I couldn’t understand why the council hadn’t tried to make their city more accessible. An email or two later, over a few months where I told them I wasn’t demanding they remove the blue stone gutters that make the street interesting and original but was there something they could do to deter a repeat incident at that location.

Fast forward a few months and this happened

So, to that Hell-Hater. Take that.

I know it’s not ground-breaking and there’s still world peace to solve. Sometimes, the big advocacy stuff is harder than world peace and you gotta celebrate the small stuff.

Not throwing a party. But I wrote this post, little brag.

Opening Doors

Opening Doors

Yesterday I went to the launch of a project I helped with called Opening Doors.  I’ve shared the website in the past but in case you missed it.  Home – Opening Doors

I met an advocate there, who deals with people who may be in crisis situations and they become her clients. Example: Couple about to take a newborn baby home where they are living in a brother’s garage. They already have a 4-year-old who is in preschool and because I asked questions, you would imagine they could just move into a room inside the house, so what’s the issue?  They already have three generations living inside the house, twenty people so, no they are stuck in the garage. The top number one question they would get asked. Are you on the public housing list?

Anyone who is on that list, asks when will they get a home?  How long is a piece of string? That is a list you need to be on, but it doesn’t guarantee you will get anything.

So, the significance of one’s home is even more important to anyone with a disability.  It’s a place to be safe, to keep one’s precious things, to build important memories, to regroup at the end of the day, to replenish energy, to sleep. Then to get up the next day ready to fight another day.

So, in short, keeping this in mind,

·         Brain injury: 47 years

·         Moved out of home at 19 years

·         Moved lots until 30 years

·         Diagnosis of ABI at 34 years

·         Since treatment at 30 years, onset of severe disability where I can no longer work and need care.

·         Have moved: 4 times!

Keeping in the back of your mind, I had a boyfriend, sorry I thought I had a boyfriend when I first developed my disability. I digress or context done.

As I mentioned my situation to the advocate, how many times I’d had to move since my disability and while in comparison to her clients with the new born baby, I had told a friend that finding decent housemates since my disability had been like getting my heart, soul and wallet robbed by complete strangers. A friend had bitched to me when he had his disability, he had, had to give up his awesome housemates and he couldn’t understand why I had not been more empathetic towards him.

So, I pointed out, while I’d moved four fucking times and had lived by myself for seven years or more, renting. His family bought him a fucking house!  Now admittedly his house is in the outer suburbs, he owned the house. No renting.

and now 10-15 years later, he’s moved into an apartment in Abbotsford where he can walk to the city and he still thinks I should be all empathetic towards his plight.

Sound bitchy don’t I?  Yeah, the inner bitch comes out occasionally.

Online Dating

Online Dating…. Arghh

I know I covered the Barren Spinster thing, but I didn’t as yet cover the dating with a disability thing. Until now.

After a few years of being single, I tried consciously to do the online dating thing.

Sweet Jesus! The Millennial’s! Can we blame them for that?

I mean, I did the clubs thing back in the 90’s, I was out there, I had exposure and nothing. Most of my 20’s, single.

Can you think of the top three questions you get asked doing the online dating? Please imagine my profile mentioned I did not drink, imagine it was something akin to personality. I wasn’t looking or interested in a quick sleaze. I wanted that eventually, but not from someone old enough to by my dad.

Right!

Question 1, What do you do? I tell them I’m retired. (to avoid catfishing, I quickly follow with retired, but poor) and I do advocacy for people with disabilities. Let me tell you what they want? 1. A quick shag, almost on order like Uber Eats. Cringe!

Older guys want Jennifer Aniston, wearing a tiny bikini while lying on the beach drinking a beer.

• Are these men A-Grade specimens of man? Deserving of a Jennifer Aniston? Don’t be ridiculous.

T-birds and Purple Trees

T-Birds and Purple Trees

T-Birds and Purple trees! My Case Manager told me to quote that when I have my NDIS assessment tomorrow. He suggests it emphasises my (how best to say it?) “Numpty-ness?”

He rang me a week ago and asked what I was up to and I was quite literal as I was reading a post from one of the bloggers I follow. The post was about T-Birds (Thunderbirds the car) and a beautiful purple tree that was about to be cut up. One of my followers will recognise this from her blog.

My point being, sometimes I’ve got to get my “Crazy” on! Because I manage to appear so competent, I almost self-sabotage and I don’t mean to.

I am competent in many, many ways, but it doesn’t change the fact that physically I struggle and the things I manage to do all comes at a cost.

I mean, try peeling a carrot one-handed. That should be today’s challenge.

I promise you it’s do-able. It’s just such a complete “brain fuck” if you manage it you will need a good stiff drink afterwards and I need a lie down.

Fingers crossed I don’t have to get the “Crazy” out too much tomorrow. That also requires a lie down because I really hate having to dumb myself down.

I am my best advocate, but if I do it a little too well, I shoot myself in the foot.

Ridiculous!

Week So Far!

Week So Far!

Monday went to a DDAC (Darebin Disability Advisory Committee) meeting as a BIM member (sorry Brain Injury Matters) and a local resident. As have recently participated in some training (VATT) Voice at the Table Training so I can attend meetings and have my opinion be heard and valued. Rather than just being a token member with a disability.

I’d be happy to go to a meeting and not feel inclined to go to a meeting and find myself facilitating. Impossible!

They asked me to be a member of the DDAC! There were some ‘Service Providers’ at the meeting who are obviously concerned they won’t have a job when the NDIS (National Disability Insurance Scheme in case you missed it), gets rolled out across the North/East of Melbourne.

They like to ‘bang on’ about being there for their clients who have little independent living skills or might be intellectually handicapped, but it take me to tell that person she needs to change ‘hats’ when she’s at those meetings. She needs to put on her ‘Advocacy-Hat!’ and not be wearing her ‘Self Advocacy hat!’

People seem to go to those meetings with their ‘problems’ and there never seems to be a sharing of how to ‘problem solve’ these issues.

People don’t know how to solve them or who to go to, to fix said problems.

Anyway, left DDAC and went to have 2^nd x-ray to find out what’s causing pins and needles in my right hand.

FYI That’s my good hand!

X-ray of the day was of my ‘upper back/spine/right shoulder’ (Note: despite having to go up a flight of stairs they couldn’t do the lower back x-ray at the same time. Had to book to go back Tuesday.

Had planned to ‘smash out’ the last Episode of Walking/talking Dead before Chiropractors.

Rang Darebin HACC (Home and Community Care) to arrange a Carer so I could get to 3^rd x-ray and spent the next hour being bullied because people can’t read the DAMN FILE!!!

Got a migraine and was in bed by 11.30pm. When I’m in bed that early for the night, you need to consider ‘Will Helen Wake Up Dead??’

So it’s now Wednesday afternoon and I’m still feeling seedy from the migraine.

Super week so far!!!