Carer

All posts tagged Carer

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.

 

Sock Nest

Published October 25, 2019 by helentastic67

Sock Nest

There are brief opportunities to be answered by the little things about disability and you need to embrace them. Keeping in mind I’m well aware compared to others with disabilities far worse than mine, they would wish this to be one of their problems. But I still like to share.

Having a full left-sided hemiplegia means I have limited sensation on my left. My left arm, leg and particularly my left foot gets rather cold, so beds socks are a must.

But you know that half sleepy moment in the mornings, you stretch out and draw your feet up in bed? Sometimes, if you feel your sock coming off, you push your foot back down to push it back on, then change the angle before you repeat the movement, in the hope you don’t lose your sock. I often get out of bed in the morning to find I’m missing my left sock.

My carer generally notices it and I snort a ‘whatever’ and later I need to go back and dig around for it. It’s often tucked under Mika my cat, who settled at my feet.

Other times, by the time I get to find the sock, there is more than one. Last week I found a nest of three socks and they were all together.

No wonder I had carers complaining they couldn’t match up my socks. Clearly, it’s no biggy. If no one dies, we’re all ok. It’s a damn bed sock. Put it in the draw, it’s mate will join it eventually.

 

Society

Published August 9, 2019 by helentastic67

Society

Today, my carer told me the most ridiculous thing in the world, I have possible ever heard. This particular carer who will be reading this when it goes live (Yes, I’m talking about you).

A young lady (it’s a loose term, but let’s go with it) cut her hand off to avoid having a job and work. I flicked a demanding look at this carer and gave her a “What the fuck” there’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

Apparently, the parents took her to hospital and they were able to re-attach it and with rehab she can use that hand.

I then suggested she could have cut off some fingers (not her whole hand) or some toes and she might qualify for a Disability and get a free pass from work. My carer and I laughed at this suggestion.

I then finished with, if she was one-handed, she would work, everyday for her God-Damned Life.

I’m sure that is enough to make on this point and for my older more mature followers who are still (I hope) reading at this point completely get that the real lesson here is how society is going to hell in a hand basket, if the younger generation think they need to avoid working by doing something so drastic.

Being the age, I am and despite having a brain injury, all of my life I have a good work history. Ok, ‘good’ might be exaggerating it a little, but I don’t know how to sit still and not contribute to the world somehow.

 

Apartment Living

Published May 27, 2019 by helentastic67

 

Apartment Living

It’s noisy, but quiet, it’s a very odd contradiction, so I shall need to explain. When I moved into my apartment (I rent) over a year ago, I was concerned about if it would be noisy or smelly or if I would never see my neighbours.

Once you are inside your apartment, you can’t really hear loud TV’s or dogs barking or loud thumping music from your neighbours. Once you close the heavy front door, you don’t hear anything from your neighbours. I sometimes hear people race past my front door to get to theirs or heading to the lift.

Sometimes if I’m heading to the lift and hear a door slam behind me, I’ll hold the lift door for anyone behind me. Then we proceed to have a brief awkward conversation about good timing and never seeing anyone else. So, yes I rarely see anybody from my floor.

I’m in an apartment block on a very busy corner. There is a main street where at my corner it forks off in a slightly north/eastern direction on the tram line and at the middle of the ‘bits’ (not sure how to best describe this) there is a pub. Across the street are more apartments. In my block, we are six storeys and across the street they are even higher.

The noise from the traffic, the trams, the pub. It’s ridiculous, the cars and motorcycles, the service vehicles, I can’t tell anymore, is it an ambulance, police car? I hear several of those every day.

One morning my carer arrived after I’d woken early and attempted to get back to sleep. An alarm of some kind had started and been going for about twenty minutes. My carer was with me for about ninety minutes. You tune it out after a while and the silence between seem to get a little longer and we looked at each other. Hopeful? Did it stop? No! Damn it!

I heard noises before, but never been able to workout where it was coming from or what it was to alert us to. I presume it was the apartment building across the street. I don’t know what it’s to alert or for what. If I could call someone, I wold but who would that be? If that person knew already, why weren’t they doing something about it?

My carer left and ten minutes later after a migraine had set in and taken hold, it stopped. Posing the question, WHY? And of course, can it stop?

 

Tears

Published April 22, 2019 by helentastic67

Tears

There are sometimes these days when I have a superpower, I never knew I had. I can make my carers cry. What? I know, it’s not on purpose.

It’s often the best conversations with my carers about all things ‘Helen’ (for want of a better term) the things that have moulded me and made me the person I am today.

This particular day, I told my carer about what it was like in the early 80’s in my family after the death of my fifteen-month-old sister.

She had been born on my eighth birthday and for fifteen months I helped bath her, change nappies, do “mum stuff” and we had one birthday together where we had an Ice Cream cake and we were both sick. We have a photo to commemorate the day. Very understated and in the last month of her life, she was taken to the local hospital in the country town where I grew up. The doctors, I believe misdiagnosed her, but by this stage she had already likely had a stroke. She was flown to Melbourne and within a (hear me flown to Melbourne.) month she was gone. My parents had to make the decision to turn off her life support.

I recall a family visiting us and the father distinctly placed a dining chair in a location, so he could sit with his back to a photo of Linda (that was her name) so he couldn’t see it.

There is an assumption when a child dies, that you should rid your home of all the photos and things that remind you of them, almost as if they had never existed, which seems wrong.

To be clear Linda died from a huge tumor.

After a while, because family and friends just didn’t know how to help or were just too sad, they just decided to stay away.

From nine years old, for a good few years, life was really lonely. I then told my carer a story of a friend of mine in the ABI community who passed away about six years ago.

I had to stop going to the place I would see him, because when my taxi arrived, I would be crying silent tears and the poor driver would not know what to do (poor bastard). I had to stop going, but whenever I return for a rare one off gathering, I sat somewhere I cannot dart my eyes towards the picture of him. I used to get through our gatherings always casting a look in his direction and we seemed communicate so much with our eyes. Anyway, more of him another day as I can feel the tears.

So yes! My superpower is I can make people cry, but it’s usually when my voice breaks a little and in crying.

Next time I want a better super power. Feel free to comment below as to what your super power is or would want it to be.

No cliché, X-ray vision or invisibility please.

 

Grumble for Help

Published April 1, 2019 by helentastic67

Grumble for help

Grumble for help

It is often a challenge for people to know when to offer help to someone with a disability and when to politely want to be asked. Ironically, I often am asked by people if they should ask at all. I am fiercely independent and I recently had a conversation on this exact same topic with my carer, whom I go out shopping with and do my only food preparation days with.

Do You Need Help

We agreed, I will attempt everything first, I might give out noisy, grumpy sounds as I struggle and when I swear a little, it’s probably still okay. But if I sound frustrated, that’s when she knows to offer assistance.

When to offer help

That’s also what I love about this particular carer.

Love carer

Letters

Published March 8, 2019 by helentastic67

Letters

Letters

On an occasion I require someone I trust to read a document or letter, I can’t, I think you all realise I’m not an idiot, this is not why I need someone to help me in this way. Reading anything longer than part of a recipe has the ability to give me a migraine and somethings are just not in simple English.

Not an idiot

Recently, I entrusted a carer to read a letter attached to a Visa statement. Because I don’t have regular scheduled visits from my mum (the only member of the Team Helen) and the time I’m lucky to get from busy friends we spend on more of the ‘fun things’ I asked a carer to read the letter attached to the Visa Statement.

Read my statement

Firstly, I suggested for her to not look at the actual statement, I reassured her I didn’t have a ridiculously high limit on my card and I had a low interest rate. We had previously discussed what it cost me every month in interest charges and when I stated how low they were, I had to mention how little an interest rate you can get, if you are prepared to change cards (my previous account I could quote the digits without looking at the card). Sadly, it went as well as the 18% interest rate for something more affordable.

Don't read the statement

I digress, she started to look at it and ask if I wanted her to read it to me? I told her no and paraphrasing it to me would be fine. I really wanted to know the dot points, if I don’t pay the full balance by tomorrow, will they kill my whole family. Because I’ve had it sitting on my desk for weeks. A month has passed and the family is all still with us and so is my Visa and the next statement has arrived, more damn reading.

More reading

This time I did take a look to see again if I didn’t have to pay the whole balance by tomorrow or my whole family would be killed.

Live another day

No such luck, that it was that simple. It even mentions “clauses” from the previous letter.

Banks have a lot to answer for.

Banks

FFS!

Simple English People.

Simple English

 

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