There are days I have plenty of sad topics to cover but I like to find a positive from a negative. Take my ex-boyfriend. No really, take him!
I will liken him to Wentworth Miller (actor). Are you familiar with him? I’ll help, Prison Break. Full body tattoos, yeah!!!! Deep breath and Gay. Yep, ladies can’t have him. He’s into guys, which is fine. I used to have a picture of him on a pinboard. C’mon, we all did. It’s nice to dream.
But gay? Gay! We’re fine. The other team scores another one but my ex, I digress, poster on my pinboard and my stepdaughter (yeah, it was brief, at the time I had a step-daughter.)
She asked her dad if the photo was of him? He looked at me and I smiled a little and shook my head. Now, I thought we had been together about four years, but apparently, we had not been. I guess because he sent mixed messages. I like provincial furniture and decorations. He suggested if I could save some money, we could have a trip to France.
Me, now? So, I can have another fucking holiday to the most romantic place in the world with a so-called boyfriend who didn’t have the same ideas for our relationship that I did. FUCK NO! Thank you.
These days high density living in inner city Melbourne has become the norm just like everywhere else.
There are all kinds of short cuts developers take to get more levels in but at a cost to quality. I overhead a story recently while getting a treatment in Collingwood at my free clinic.
A patient (or client) in the next cubicle stated he had a friend who had paid $750,000 for an apartment in that area and when he heard the kettle in the kitchen next door to his place going off, he knew it was time to move further out. He’s lucky it was just the kettle.
Occasionally I will circle back to topics I’ve touched on before like apartment living. Yeah! That – and this is one of those.
As I currently live in a large apartment complex in an NRAS (National Rental Affordability Scheme) property. I rent, I do not own but, major issues still go to my property manager (she managed seven in this building) then go to the Body Corp. A faceless entity that do what exactly I can’t always tell.
After months and months of hearing all kinds of power tools coming from upstairs at all kinds of times during the day and onwards last night at 11pm, I heard the subtle pat of a mallet. Now, keep in mind as a carpenter’s daughter I can pick a drop saw which I’ve also heard but this was different and it was at a time when they damn well knew it was too late to be renovating.
Now, I think the tenants above me have had an equal passion for renovating as they do for an intense dislike of their bedhead, because they keep insisting on slamming it against the wall with annoying repetition at all-times.
So, I record the renovating sounds coming from upstairs, forwarded them on to my property manager, to highlight the poor timing of the work being done.
She has stated she has passed it onto the Body Corp. One of my neighbours is an Owner/Occupier and she has already fed the information to the Owner’s Corp. I’m not holding my breath. This seems to be how that works.
So today I thought I’d give you some context for HellOnWheels, and why I blog.
After being part of a self-advocacy group for over 8 years, it would seem as different faces come and go, I still needed to explain to people who I am and what I’m on about.
And basically, why I deserve to have opinions so it would seem.
I asked and offered a blog post to contribute to a newsletter that has been rebooted by a lovely volunteer. So, I was surprised to find my blog contribution still not being included.
I had to ask numerous times. I do have a tendency to follow up and not let things go until I get answers. I think with kids it would be considered ‘pester power!’, but I am not a child nor do I want any.
I was told after someone read one of my posts that “Oh she’s got strong opinions.”
And that was why.
So, this is my explaining why I deserve to have the opinions I have.
I really want to thank you for calling me today to tell me all the things I should be doing. You haven’t responded to any of my friendly messages for months now.
I had some good news to share, but you didn’t ask, nor could I get a word in edgewise. I’ve just had a 4-day weekend on the 4th lockdown in Melbourne, some appointments cancelled I’d been trying to get done since they didn’t happen in 2020.
Fuck you COVID! No, I really mean it this time!
It is imagined that people with disabilities have not been financially impacted, since we don’t work. We haven’t lost work and why should we matter.
Well, I shall tell you how. Allow me.
These days I do take more ‘healthy pills’ than medications so I can live to the at least 65. I can afford to live till then.
Shut up! I will explain that expiry date another day.
COVID has meant everyone and their cat and dog has been out buying ‘healthy pills’ to avoid getting or dying from COVID. It’s a fair call. I can’t blame you all. However, many of my healthy pills I buy in bulk so I can get bulk discounts and pay less over time and because my suppliers have had limited stock, they have not allowed me to do this. I’m not talking about truckloads, just 2 x 200 tablets of magnesium. Just an example.
But I don’t need someone who is not on the ‘coal face’ of living on the edge financially and choosing what I’m meant to do without to ‘help’ me decide I can give up my weekly chiropractor visits.
You all realize I have lost many of my pain management appointments due to lockdown, right. And you want me to deal with a rib out as well. The rib still hurts despite being put back in last Friday. It’s Thursday night as I write this.
So, it’s really shitty when people who are meant to love me are awfully opinionated about what I can do when they are not me.
You know that moment when if there was a statistic that said if there was one person in every family of four to have a disability. The only person in your family who could deal with said disability well, it’s you. Yeah, I knew this some years ago.
Now I needed to ask for a loan, quite happy to pay it back. But without even knowing what it was for, you decide to give me a lecture about managing dollars better. Stop helping!
You are upset, because I didn’t ask how you are. It was hard to get a word in edgewise, and I was already having your opinions and the opinions of other people who are not me to get a word in edgewise.
So, now my days is not done, I don’t have the energy to ‘deal’ with anything else today.
I’m feeling really shitty. My head hurts, my left eye is pounding (the indication of my migraine these days). So, I’m going to bed for a cry and a kip.
Now I need to feel like eating sometimes so I can sleep tonight and get up and do all the things again tomorrow.
Meanwhile, the rent gets paid. The lights go on. I’m not starving and I can put one foot in front of another knowing I don’t ask for help often but when I do, I really need it.
Then, maybe I’ll be able to smile a little. Or I can try and if that’s how you are going to be, please don’t call.
As you might all be aware of, I’m always busy. Did 2020 put a dint in anything? No.
One of the reasons you could get out in Melbourne during what was known as the toughest lockdown anywhere, to stop the spread of Covid, was medical appointments.
I was out at one yesterday, when I came up with this witty joke.
You remember the days when the military used ear piercing metal music 24/7 to keep their prisoners sleep deprived? Send water boarding? (I know this is wrong, but hang in there?) So, the new torture device is……….. “Tell us the codes to end the world!”
Sometimes I see the perfect example in name about how men and women differ. This is not to say one is better than the other or worse, however rarely the perfect example presents itself for me to share, so I shall.
I was on a tram heading into the city, in the early evening. It was still Spring, but towards the end of the season. In Melbourne, that translates as flowers, wind, winter, rain, hot, Spring, Spring, Spring, rain. Forty degrees in the shade. That about nails it.
Several of my carers have hay fever for months. A young guy was sniffling a lot on the tram and it was rather unpleasant, not that I gave any indication of disgust.
He got up to check the tram route map and when he sat again, he apologised for sniffling and explained it was hay fever. He had gotten up that morning and had run out of tablets.
A woman a week earlier would have noticed, then to fit a visit in somewhere when she was close to a chemist during the week. By day five, let’s imagine Friday, she would have started to consider there had to be a chemist somewhere and she would have gone out of her way to be prepared. Guys – he just plain ran out.
I had not been concerned he was contagious, but I reached out a hand offering him 3 slightly crumpled tissues. I could tell he wanted to take them, but he looked concerned they were not clean. I reassured him I had only just put them in my bag.
I’m writing at my favourite café and a woman sneezed. I gave her the appropriate ‘bless you’ in a non-religious way.
She disappeared to get a napkin (ouch) and upon returning, mentioned it was her Hay fever. Then she stated:
“It’s so debilitating”
Mmmmm…. Ok, it’s shitty, I agree, but debilitating is a strong word. Hay fever can suck. It really can. In Melbourne there is a season where it can kill, but this woman’s hay fever to me feels like a first world problem.