Holiday

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Clayton’s Holiday

Published September 23, 2019 by helentastic67

Clayton’s Holidays

There was a drink back in the 80’s and I has become part of Aussie Pop Culture references that crosses all things. The ad was for a drink (beverage) called Claytons.

It refers to it being the drink when you don’t feel like having a drink. A drink without being alcoholic. So, this is a post about a Clayton’s holiday. Get it?

About five years ago, I was with an agency that arranged holidays (group holidays) for their clients. I was able to and included on two holidays, which was really nice as I think it’s been about ten years since I actually had a holiday and even then, that was to Tasmania for two-three nights.

So, the group holidays work out to be only a half day drive from Melbourne and only away over night or two. The other client’s range in age from five (one client’s daughter) to sixty-five (maybe). There were two mini buses with wheelchair lifts on the back (two wheelchairs in the back of each) and usually a car.

I usually bags the front seat of the mini bus (I will do a polishing motion on my backside and one of the carers will effortlessly lift me and deposit me in my seat). Yeah, I do that sexual harassment for the ladies. But I won’t allow a male carer to man-handle the goods. (I’m not light these days, but one lady just effortlessly lifted me making me feel so light.)

Being on a little get away with a bunch of strangers and three or four carers means you have a polite but temporary family type experience.

I always pitch in to help prep a salad or something in the evening as we usually stay somewhere we have a shared meal where ever we stay on the first night, as most meals are eaten out.

The first holiday I went to we stopped on the way back to Melbourne at an outer Melbourne suburb for a lunch and a little adventure.

A friend lived there, so I suggested they join me, so I could catch up with them. Said friend had recently been diagnosed with something quite nasty. They are still in that honeymoon stage of diagnosis where they have had the sugar-coated version of their diagnosis. Goes something like this “OH, you only have 3 lesions…”

Note, privacy being maintained here, yeah. This medical condition is such that when people hear I have a brain injury, I tell them, “Hey! It’s okay, this is my bottom line right now. At least I don’t have XYZ.” Because XYZ is degenerative. It gets worse. It gets shitty. I just gets’ worse.

So, this friend joined my little group of holiday buddies and I briefly introduced them to the group. I’m going to say, I’m terrible with names and I’ve been around this group of people with disabilities now a few years, so in a little desensitized re: medical conditions.

My introduction went like this;

“Brain Injury, MS, Stroke, Stroke, Oxygen deprived at birth (Brain Injury) etc, etc”. And I finished with referring to one particular person in a wheelchair (of which there were five) but the last person I pointed to had the XYZ my non-holiday friend has. “That will be you one day” and they paled considerably.

To be continued

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Published July 22, 2019 by helentastic67

Home

Oh! Going to write about something a bit different today, despite the backlog, I’ve got to catch up on.

Was having a conversation with my Lady Girl-Friday earlier. She’s one of my carers that is often mistaken as my daughter.

We were discussing travel and the mentality of when you travel. I should point out she has travelled to New Zealand on a typical ‘young-person’ travel holiday and then with her Oma (Dutch for Grandmother) to Holland for a slightly longer period of time.

My only real overseas holiday dates back to (wait for it) 1994, with my first serious boyfriend (I will circle back to this later) Needless to say, I don’t mention him in current time so, plot-spoiler, it didn’t end well. Most of the three months, I went to the UK for a visit with a whole week in Europe (two days in Paris, two days in Rome and two days in Florence).

So, it’s safe to say our experiences were very different. However, I made the point that when you travel, it’s great to be somewhere different, see different things, places, cultures, languages and the food. Oh my God the food.

But, if you are in one place for a few weeks, you will likely go out and find a café. You will also keep going back to that café because you can quickly get to be known as a regular. If you are trying to not spend too much money, it’s not a huge expense, it gets you out of the ‘house’. I spent my first month staying in a place about an hour from London while the boyfriend waited for his ‘interest payment’ to come through so he had his spending money. So, even on a holiday, we crave a place that makes us feel like home.

 

Life One Handed – Part 1

Published February 1, 2019 by helentastic67

lifeonehanded1

Life One Handed Part 1

On a very rare occasion a person carer will have her hands full and doing something to help me with ‘whatever’ and they will say to me “I had the experience of what it must be for you one handed”.

experienceonehanded

Sometimes, it’s not even a comment but a shared look and I will give them a murmur of aging with them and respond “Sucks doesn’t it”

Sucks Doesn't it

Because while they have that brief shared experience with me, I live it every single day. There is no ‘freeing up a hand, there is no break or holiday’

livingwithit

It’s all the friggin time. Ad nauseum.

adnauseum

I guess I should point out it is even more frustrating watching someone struggle to do something with two hands, that I can do very easily with on one hand.

Struggling with 2 hands

I had a young carer once who I gave the task to go hang out some bath mats on the line and on a clothes rack. I gave her the small clothes rack and she commented how much she hated them.

clothesrack

I waited a moment to witness her hold one rail in a hand and fling it around a bit. I don’t know what she was expecting to happen, but she seemed to be having a very hard time. Like she was having a fit. No, really!

I walked away because I couldn’t just stand and watch. I also had to let her wear herself out. Because, I also needed to use “words” to describe to her how to do it.

nowords1

In the end she got there, but it seriously would have been easier had she given it back to me to do. I’m not saying it was the nail in the coffin for that carer to not return to me, it wasn’t, but it didn’t help.

nailinthecoffin

So great was my frustration.

frustraion

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