Carer

All posts tagged Carer

Wrong

Published December 20, 2021 by helentastic67

Wrong

Sometimes having carers can go wrong. I know I’ve only had good things to say but occasionally in the past, but at times it has gone rather badly.

In my early days, fifteen years ago, getting carers, I had a few older ladies who were due a hip replacement. One woman would do her shift later in the day with me and I noticed she was always a bit grumpier on those days. I nailed it and we discussed, it turned out by the time she made it to me her morning pain meds had worn off. So, I suggested she take another one? She was fine. We stayed in contact for a while, even after she was no longer my carer. She’d bring me her ground coffee she didn’t love and created a blend with what I had and coped better with a coffee. Coffee always makes a shift pass easier.

Another lady I had around that also needed a hip replacement, she was really sweet. I still see this lovely lady out and about. One particular day, she had put a big bag of kitty litter on the front of the trolley underneath, it had a little hole in it. There we were trailing a litre of Clay kitty litter around the supermarket. My carer got down on her knees to fix the bag of litter and she couldn’t get up, I got down to help her. She was really embarrassed, but I don’t embarrass easily these days. I laughed. And then a staff member, who mistook our relationship, came to help us. He thought I was her carer. Right? Seriously, she was this lovely Indian woman who had been in Australia fifty years or so. She has a son my age. In her car she had all kinds of Catholic ‘stuff!’ Jesus! Rosary beads! Etc!

So, while out driving I taught her how to swear.

The word of choice, Fuck Knuckle!

I know. So wrong. I greet these women with hugs. So lovely.

Advocacy

Published December 13, 2021 by helentastic67

Advocacy

Recently, someone who doesn’t have a disability thought to share her rather shitty opinion with me that I was not an advocate. She’s not someone who has even met me, nor now will she ever. After she listed the reasons why she didn’t like me (when I say she told me she didn’t like me, I mean that she said ‘she didn’t hate me because I had a disability and she didn‘t hate me for other reasons but she hated me for some other reason she listed”) Interesting that during 2020 I was the only person she claimed she ever chatted to, now she has no-one.


Anyway, she felt the need to inform me I wasn’t a great advocate. So, while I’m not suggesting I’m creating world peace (gotta save something for later right?), I’m doing some of the little things to make life easier.

So, here’s an example:

I’ve been part of a self-advocacy group for 8+ years now. They do the big projects and some local day to day stuff. These things don’t pay. It’s monthly meetings and lots of emails and reading and things you do in your own time. It’s a good way to stay connected to a community so you can share problems and discuss with each other how we solve some of these problems. Some problems have systemic change required, some informing the public (who don’t want to know) and some is just how we are better prepared so when we get harassed by a ticket inspector on a train that we don’t move to scramble for our ID or ticket.
Anyway, during 2020, they started rewarding us with a pocket money incentive every month. I can’t get ‘paid’ as it;

1. Impacts the pension.
2. Would have my super fund completely taken from me as it would be imagined I can one day return to work.

So I had to emphasise to the powers that be that not everyone can be paid. Not everyone will start a business, have a career (from their ABI) and life will not resume as normal and I was more than happy to take my pocket money in the form of a vouchers and I mentioned about four retailers where I could happily do some damage.
They are
        Coles/Myer
        Officeworks
        JB Hi Fi
There are options, all the things are there and the person with the job to find out if I could do this, got back to me with some calls and it was a yes. Now, ladies, if you get $150 once or twice a year, what do we spend it on?

That’s right! BRAS! These days I get new bra’s every two years, and it’s a painful and expensive endeavour.

My carer that I go do ‘stuff’ with is not one of my ladies who have seen me naked (well, in any way unclothed) mainly because, and it’s a reasonable reason and I’m sticking with it. I don’t want any of my carers getting between me and my need to buy ice cream.

Hot off the Press – 25th October, 2021

Published October 25, 2021 by helentastic67

Hot off the Press

Today I thought I’d do a little old school style Hot off The Press.



Sometimes I share some profoundly wise words with someone and they want to share or quote me, now I’m like, “Christ! Now I’ve got a post to write that has a stick of TNT attached. Because they want to quote me in their XYZ, you know I can’t recall and it doesn’t matter.

So, here are some wise words.

“Carers need to be aware that they may not value the same things as their client, but when they are with their clients, they put their own values aside!”


Cheers,
H

Community

Published August 9, 2021 by helentastic67

Community

So, one of the amazing things about having carers is they bring with them stories and a sense of community. They share stories about their friends and other clients.

One of my carers has been dipping her foot back into dating and she quoted some male online dating guru, by stating, “women need to get rid of their lists!”

I’m sorry (a little defensive) what? Well, yeah that’s probably right.

So, she gave me her short list of three.

1. Nice person

2. Got their shit together

3. Nice d**k! (Hint, that word is not duck!)

I think this is fair. It’s three rather concise, necessary requirements.

So, sometimes I get lucky with the right kind of sass and I get to share. You’re welcome.

Eggs

Published March 16, 2020 by helentastic67

Eggs

We think money makes the world go around, but I think EGGS can build a community.

A carer started buying me eggs, I would get a tray of thirty farm fresh eggs for $14.00, then I would give a dozen of them to my masseuse as I don’t otherwise pay her.

I have other ways to pay her which I think she appreciates. The carer who would bring me the eggs had a collection of egg cartons. I started decorating them with a thick black texta in the hope that other people would join in. Add to the drawings, answer the question and posted inside by announcing what they intended to make with the eggs.

Mine stated “Destined to be Carrot Cake or Omelette or Bread and Butter Pudding” (Which needs eight eggs)

After a time, I found my own supplier which was two less things for this carer to do for me in her own time. I do like to be self-sufficient, but my contact has trays of twenty eggs for the same amount ($14). And again, free range and ‘Picked’ that day at 4am.

You should realize eggs don’t grow on trees, but are laid. The eggs are rather big, 800g and ‘twins’ or double yolkers are plentiful.

The issue is, I need to order two trays for my egg guy to deliver for free.

So, I asked around my neighbours and my ‘people’. My first order was two trays, one for me, one for a neighbour. My second order was five trays.

And this is how I’ve been trying to create a community.

Today’s Lunch – 4th March 2020

Published March 4, 2020 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

R.I.P. last Friday, I lost one of my favourite carers. They are all my favourites they just all bring something different to the party. This carer I will likely write about in a future post. I’m going to refer to her as FP, I only had 5 minutes notice before she arrived for her last shift. I would have FP up to 8-11.5 hours for 1 week every month and often mistaken as my daughter. She has not passed on but merely gone to study for the next stage in her life. I had, had her as my carer for three years! I mean, I had just gotten her trained. She could accurately read my mind, finished my sentences and I got to feed her.

I’m a feeder! I love to send my carers off with something to eat on their way to their next shift. I used to ask FP if her mother questioned me feeding her and the response was this. “If I go home and eat my dinner she doesn’t need to know” I believe this is exactly how she put it. I think she might waste away and her mum might wonder why, I might need to prepare her a care package.

Now, Autumn has arrived in Melbourne and I’m never happier than when wearing full black. It’s a rather strong Melbourne trait and it doesn’t hurt, it’s very slimming. I was down in Cliffy Hill yesterday to see my GP and he loves to encourage me to get on the scales. I fight him every time! It’s been good to catch up on some blog writing, as I will do again today over lunch.

Today’s lunch is the brain grain salad, because sometimes I need all the help I can get and medicine!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After another long day I’ll have to go home and give Mika to sit her down and give her the talk. You know, the one about how one of her favourite people is now gone from our lives.

Dark

Published February 28, 2020 by helentastic67

Dark

Okay, going full dark today and I’m not feeling depressed in any way while I write this. Quite the opposite really, but I will suggest I’m going to lose my male followers, before too long, much to their loss.

5, 4, 3, 2,

Most of my carers these days are older than me and a few of my friends. Which is great! Fine! Great, I’m not complaining because they bring a wealth of womanly advice.

And 1

Bet the guys are all gone.

Every month or so, the ladies and I get stuck on the topic of Crazy-Lady hormones.

Any guys still reading? Hit me with a like or a comment if you still are.

So, ladies this post is about sliding into the ‘Pause’ (yes Menopause) Apart from the irregular periods (shark week) and the heavy one month, light the next or the all-out ‘all the Crazy symptoms and a complete no-show of obvious. It came, no babies (said 1 young carer years ago)

One of my older carers and I used to share a conversation and you have all heard these stories.

Back in the day, picture the 60’s and theirs a couple chatting about their mutual friends. Two couples married around the same time, raised their children around the same time, holidayed together, worked together, did casserole night, you know, you get the picture. Then all of sudden, it goes full dark.

“Oh, I don’t know what happened, they were perfectly happy, married fifteen years, little ‘whoopsie’ was good at cricket (or whatever sport of the day) and then all of a sudden, he came home one day after work while she was cooking dinner and she just stabbed him to death. The Coroners report stated he was stabbed forty-seven times.

And now she lives in a mental asylum.

Scene end!

So, my carer and I share a look and a smile and this is the important part, if the guys kept reading.

Menopause SUCKS!

Here’s what the wife dealt with that day, the kids, the housework, the shopping, cooking, ironing, laundry, the crazy itching, the hot flushes one moment and then the cool the next. The kids. And then the husband comes home and complained about why was it so cold inside?

Read the room. Don’t mess with a woman who has limited control over what is going on with her hormones.

She doesn’t know what’s going on.

Ergo, case in point.

Stabbed forty-seven times.

You are welcome.

Today’s Lunch – 5th February 2020

Published February 5, 2020 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

Despite the next month of foodie posts would have you believe I don’t go out for dinner very often. Saturday just gone I went out for dinner with some friends. They are actually closer friends of a friend who couldn’t make it. So, I went out with a really lovely couple.

Anyway, my neighbourhood has an abundance of gourmet pizza places and burger places. Both exe Saturday night we did Italian pizza. A place called I’l Pizziaolo. Translation, the pizza maker. I did get better taking photos after the first course. In photos it went like this: going with other friends in a few weeks and one of those friends is more Wog than I am. He will cope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Late Saturday night having already eaten what I refer to as my standard, standard Saturday wog lunch followed by more Italian for dinner. An ache in my side made me think for days, days! I had eaten too much food from the same food group. That being Wog.

Monday, I greeted my carer with the question, what’s in here? (Pointing to my side) Then questioning, kidney, liver? Which internal organ is so pissed off with me? Alas, I think I found another reason why I do not do chilli and pepper. It hurts my internal organs. Still going there again, just can’t eat the home made traditional Italian salamis.

Meanwhile, back to the present. Today’s offering is, a bolognaise arancini with side salad and medicine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cheers,
H

 

Efficient – Part 2

Published January 10, 2020 by helentastic67

Efficient 2

Now, you might imagine having carers or to use their current tittle “Support Workers” is so easy (said no one ever). But you really should imagine it’s like having “staff” or running a busy café where people come for short shifts and someone else off site manages their comings and goings and they might work for several agencies that give them clients/shifts. Now, I’ve been doing this ‘shit’ for about thirteen years and it’s still not perfect.

I like being very efficient to make my life work best and normally the less times I have to attend to something, the more efficient it is. However, the more times I have to touch something to have it run smoothly the way it should because, it’s the way I asked for it the first fucking time, it’s always getting moved.

Of course, I have an example for you!

My carer should arrive on a Sunday morning at 10am for a ninety-minute shift. My main agency that covers all my PC (Personal Care) morning shifts has a few carers who are prepared to do weekend work, so they have outsourced me to another agency. Now, we know from Japanese whispers, the more people involved in relaying a single message, the results or the goal sets diluted and altered when your shift gets outsourced, it works the same way.

Also, because I’m not in the office rostering, but I’m on the cold-face (receiving service) I know more about the big picture. Also, because I make conversation with the carers, because they are in my home.

This particular Sunday, it was my mum’s 70th and family were converging from two different directions at my place at 12pm. Are you doing the maths?

They arrive at 10am, leave by 11.30am, I may eat ‘something’ small to get me through to midday lunch. A call to my main agency (let’s call them MH) during the week, told me she would be coming at 11am.

 

What? NO!

I rang MH and told them it had to be 10am because of XYZ. They rang the agency (let’s call them MC) because I can. They locked it in for 10am. Bingo, right?

Um, don’t be fucking ridiculous. On the morning, I woke early, got back to sleep eventually and kept waking, stressed she would arrive on time.

10am – I woke, no carer, it’s cold, so I stayed in bed to wait. 10.30am, BUZZ. My carer had arrived, late. Yet her roster states 11am.

I am of the understanding she sometimes has a catering order that needs to be filled. It’s rather ad-hoc so not consistent and I know this because people come to my home, so I get to know them.

As I have a brain injury, I often find people underestimate how switched on I am. It’s a misconception all brain injured people must be stupid. We are not and I’m speaking for all people with brain injuries. You’re Welcome.

So, I know when this shit happens, I am fully aware of who did what, who didn’t and who just said they would fix the roster and never intended to and the fact that I know this is all very taxing too.

I’m an overthinker, I think its anxiety and I think part of it is being a high functioning ABI. And the majority is my need to be efficient, because why is it so fucking difficult?

So, every day, there are examples of this where I need to touch on something to get it running smoothly.

 

Murder

Published October 28, 2019 by helentastic67

Murder

Oh, my Sweet Jesus Nelly! I don’t know if you can tell, but ‘Sweet Jesus’ has become part of my repertoire for swearing, but in this case it’s not in frustration or disgust, it’s because a carer shared the most hilarious side-splitting story with me on Monday.

Often as part of my time with carers I greet them with ‘how was your weekend?’ or whatever. I do see my carers more than family or friends, so I get their home lives set-up and know if they have had a good weekend or otherwise.

My Girl-Monday, lives with her son, daughter-in-law and 2.5-year-old granddaughter, while the husband is elsewhere finishing up selling a house, so he can join her in Melbourne. So, it was a bit of a surprise when Girl-Monday and I were in my ensuite and she came out with this statement.

“My daughter-in-law almost murdered my son on the weekend!”

WHAT?

I’m sorry What?

Did you say what I think you just did?

She did and she repeated it. My eyes darted to her face.

Apparently, the young granddaughter can get into the cot by herself (can you hear where this is going?) I’m thinking ahead and maybe they are already outsourcing parenting at bedtime and it goes like this.

“Oh, are you feeling sleepy? Do you want to get into bed?” Crazy right? I suspect this in reverse is why the son decided to teach the daughter (carers granddaughter) how to get out of the cot.

I looked at my carer and gave her a long Noooooo!!!!

So, he must have thought if in the morning and she wakes up before they are ready to get out of bed, they can call to her “Sweetie, do you want to get into bed with mummy and daddy?” and they wouldn’t need to go get her.

Again, I looked to my carer in a questioning his intelligence and of way. She informed me he is well educated intelligent young man.

I’m just thinking he has not thought this through and I’m with the daughter-in-law. Even now my sides hurt thinking about how my carer told me about this situation Monday morning.

I’m a single barren spinster, but I’ve had two younger sisters and even I know better.

 

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