love

All posts tagged love

Love and Drinking

Published January 27, 2020 by helentastic67

Love and Drinking

For someone who barely drinks, I have remembered this quote for a lifetime. I’m not looking for love at all. I’ve imagined love might find me. I’ve never thought to look for love or even just answers to life in a bottle. No judgement to anyone that does. I just don’t get it? I guess due to alcohol thinning one’s blood, drinking never made me feel particularly great. So, I’ve not given it a good hot go. I don’t think I’m missing anything.

 

STONE COLD SOBER

LOOKING FOR BOTTLES

OF LOVE

That reminds me to write the post about discovering the dark secret! It was the pro line for black opal Nera Sambuca back in the early ‘90’s. I didn’t need to discover it, I happily waited to be informed. Let someone else take the hit on that one!

Sometimes you just want to short and sweet.

To be continued…….

 

Dad

Published July 15, 2019 by helentastic67

Dad

I rang my dad last week. Oh? You may wonder where this is going. It’s not going anywhere you imagine. Just trust me.

I rang him, he never rings me. He is my Italian parent, if you recall and it is fifty minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

The first five minutes he starts with ‘oh, I don’t know if you know/I don’t know if I told you?’ and I have to be rude and interrupt him to remind him, I saw him at Christmas and he has Sciatica and his left leg hurts.

Yes. Then he’s confused and surprised I am aware. A bit of extra information re my Pa, is that he was a builder all his life, he retired a little early, due to having bowel cancer. Don’t stress, he had chemo and radiation, he beat it.

NOT COMPLAINING

Then he got/had bladder cancer. (at least he is consistent, same are of the body) and he’s beaten that (again not complaining).

While he hasn’t got dementia, he is seventy-years old, I think undiagnosed, he may have had a series of heart attacks and strokes or just a bit of ‘brain-faze’ from all his treatments. Relax, he’s cancer free.

In reality, with his very serious dedication to smoking, cancer may eventually be his downfall, but he will not go down without a fight. But right now, he’s doing everything he can to complain about everything and not listen to anything I have to say to help.

Anyway, I digress, he then went into a rant about he would do anything to not have to use a walking stick to get around and how hard it is when half your body doesn’t work.

Oh my God, when he uttered those words and he could not be interrupted because he was not done. So, if you can’t feel my eyeroll and if I’d been there, he would have received a sever bitch slap (or a back hander).

He was so severely oblivious to who had had just made that comment to, I decided to give him one of my classic Helen lines.

“Shut the fuck up”

He actually stopped talking (I was impressed). Now, you may think that is the rudest thing and completely disrespectful to speak to one’s father that way. But, however, I will say that to my mother and she does. So, I should be able to say it to my father.

I love both my parents; I just love them differently and I deal with them both as sternly as they each need and can take.

Honestly, I am much tougher with my mum because if I don’t pull her into line no one will and on somethings she will never change, so I’ve learned to let it go. I guess I’ve learned to choose my battles there also.

Ah, the fifty minutes I said I’d never get back, yes! My father, at 70 decided to get a smart phone! His first smart phone and likely his first taste of the internet!

And I proceeded to help-desk him through how to use his search engine! “Dad, just put your finger in the white bar up the top!” And he grumbles the (and I stress) “typewriter” has gone away!” God help me! “Just tap in the white bar dad and the keyboard will appear!”

And fifty fucking minutes later! KMKMKMKM!!!!!!!(Kill Me!) That was the fifty fucking minutes of my life I will never get back! And I’m not even the Samsung daughter! I’m the Apple daughter!

 

And hit Like!

 

Love or Hate, Hit Like

Published April 15, 2019 by helentastic67

Love or Hate, Hit Like

There will be some posts I write and you read when you won’t ‘Like’ at all what I have to say. You may not believe me even. You will be absolutely fair to want to HATE it.

However, you should still give me a ‘Like’ because I say it as I see it and then you can do something about what you have heard if you can and if you believe in it and think the world can be a better place for everyone.

These days I live in a rather wog area of Melbourne, they are mostly baby-boomers in age, their children having moved out, started their own families with more room in suburbs slightly further out.

On a rare occasion, there is a 50-somethiing still living with parents in this neighbourhood and it’s because on occasion the “child” is still in many ways a “child”.

It means they have intellectual challenges for those reading this post, don’t have to live with every day.

Question Time

Published January 4, 2019 by helentastic67

question time

Question Time

If you are not at all familiar with ABI/TBI or even disability, let me give you a very simple piece of advice. Never, ever, ever bombard someone with questions without time to answer. Actually, that’s relevant to decent human behaviour, however it’s even more important to people with an ABI or simply a disability.

one question at a time

Now, I’m very lucky I think and process quickly, however it’s not normal for anybody with a brain injury.

My mum has been known to ask a question when helping me move house and by the second question, I answer with a further “Yes, No, No, Yes, No” and she will ask “what are they for?” to which I inform her “Your next three questions. We laugh and all is well.

answer mums question

However, it’s common someone else I’m related to who doesn’t spend much time with me will throw a question at me. (Note; How I’ve kept writing this topic? Because what the hell, my family don’t read my blog anyway.) I suspect that’s common for a lot of bloggers.

stupid question

Moving into an apartment has meant over the winter I will need to rely on a clothes dryer to get things dry and I don’t have one.  I’ve already upgraded my washing machine to a brand-new front loader, so I use less water and it spins better. I now need a dryer which will sit directly on top.

washer dryer

‘Someone’ stated to me. “You probably don’t need one.” Then proceeded to attempt to convince me I could visit a laundromat and rather than wait for me to explain how that just couldn’t work, I am assaulted with reasoning and assaulted with reason’s why going to the laundromat with a pile of clothes, towels, sheets, heavy blankets (they wouldn’t go in the dryer).

laurndromat

Eventually, when this person paused to take a breath, I pointed out I would injure my back carrying a plastic tub of heavy damp items. In reality, I would have trouble getting it out of my apartment as the door is heavy and awkward.

apartment door 1

I would need to put it down to dig out my swipe card to use in the lift. Again, putting down my laundry basket (these days a square plastic cube) and picking it up again. Once on the ground floor, I have to press a button to close the entrance door, then get the door open, pick up the cube and get outside.

laundry basket

Did I mention, I use a walking stick when out? Do I need to finish describing the ludicrous mess (is that a word) of that suggestion?

walking stick 1

Sometimes, family will do their very best to convince you of another way so you don’t need to spend that money. They don’t need to help you do ‘that’ thing and then they don’t feel inadequate or pressed to fit you in their lives.

family assistance

It’s great to be loved.

to be loved

Rehab – Part 4

Published October 29, 2018 by helentastic67

Rehab Part 4 2

Rehab – Part 4

Case Study – Part 2

In rolled the stretcher yet again and again the same transport guys. Number four was sitting up on the bed and she was an elderly lady and truly the poor thing. She had a black and redeye and a hand was all banged up and she needed help to move to a chair while they prepared her bed and the guys and nurses did their handover.

Roommate 4

If you had met this woman in the street, you would think by the look of her eye and hand, she had been mugged in the street for her handbag.

Now, you know I don’t normally mention names, but in this instance, I’m going to because I must. I greeted her warmly and sked her name, the transport guy said “this is Elizabeth” she scowled some and said “it’s Betty”. See, kinda had to.

Betty

I said hello and the guy mentioned the weirdness of the older generation having one name and going by another. I just said “That’s what they do.”

My grandfather was always Jack. He has gone to God now, but when I visited him in hospital years ago after his triple bypass, I was embarrassed to learn he was actually John. WFT people! I never knew.

Anyway, back to Betty.

The arrival of Betty really settled our room. We were a very sociable room. That was my fault apparently, but what can you do.

Betty as a case study (so, non-clinical/medical terms) goes like this. Early eighties, had been in hospital over Christmas for a hip replacement and as this all happened around February, she was just about to go home when she had a fall. She landed on her knee, her hand and obviously her face.

Falls over 1

I did comment to her when she first arrived that she looked like she had been through the wars. She had actually, the second World War, but that’s another story and not mine to tell. Anyway, Betty settled in, in the bed closest to the door next to mine.

I gave her the induction and introduction of the room and like everyone else, when she asked me what was wrong with me, (why does everyone ask me that?) I pointed to the cast on my left leg, but said “Brain Injury”. You know it led to a longer explanation, but that was later.

Brain injury

I should mention, the day I arrived in rehab I had more visitors (nurses and hospital staff) than I think I’ve had friends visit me since getting my disability. Which says much about both friends and hospitals.

The lovely Betty, had a finger she had mangled in her fall. It was her ‘bird finger’. Luckily, she had not broken it, but it was very swollen and sore. The doctors would do their rounds and ask her to straighten it. When she could she effectively gave the doctors The Bird.

Betty giving the bird

Now, my grandmothers died when I was young and while I’m the age of Betty’s daughters, I felt like she was a grandmother I never had.

Now, I think you all realise I’m very cheeky and being around Betty, I got to turn it up a notch. Betty had, had to move into a nursing home early, on account of her husband’s dementia that had gotten to the point where if not contained, he would wonder off.

Grandmotherly

She was living in a suburb called Sunbury, to which I told her my nickname for the suburb was Scumbury. I didn’t make it up, but I’m still using it. It’s the Australian way, I’ll do a post one day to explain. Again, another day.

The nasty bruise around her eye, they gave her some cream, which stung. So, I introduced a nurse and Betty to my Arnica. When the doctors commented the bruising was going away and they would continue their cream for treatment, Betty tried to tell them it was my cream that they were using. The friendly nurse joined in our secret by reporting they would use some more of ‘the bad cream’. We all knew the nurse would continue using my cream.

Arnica

When in hospital, your medication is kept in a locked drawer beside your bed. (not all of them, but most of them) They dish them out into little plastic cups and while I’m quite competent and manage my own medications at home, they weren’t familiar with any of the alternative brands and pills. Often relying on me to do the, one of those, one of each of those, two on those and that one. I collected the little cups, I didn’t have a reason, but they sure came in handy.

One night early on in Betty’s stay, I was sitting in bed with my curtains drawn (we all did) and I heard this weird “whooshing sound”, more than once and I couldn’t work it out. I asked Betty if she could hear it too? She said it was her, she was sending emails on her phone. See! Can you see why I disclosed this woman’s identity? She’s my kinda people. Very tech savvy.

Plastic medicine cups

Those cups started coming in handy also, as when she went to bed, I would go stand beside her curtain and piff one over at her. Yes, you heard me and another under her bed, I would get a giggle out of her and do another until she sternly said “stop that”. You know I followed that with another for good measure. Oh, good times.

A councillor/Social worker type visited Betty once and I saw her approach Betty who was sitting on the chair beside her bed. The young lady, half squatted in front of her, so it looked like they were on the same level. Now, she could have pulled up a chair or even sat on the edge of her bed. I later did an impersonation of her saying she could have even stood up to speak to her. It wouldn’t have meant she was talking down to her.

Falls over

I did hear part of the conversation they had, the Social Worker asked her where she lived and asked if it was good? I couldn’t help my shot, Betty had a little laugh. The curtains were pulled closed as if that helped. I did apologise, but I made myself scarce. I don’t know of any older person who looks forward to going to live in a nursing home. So, I had thought it a ridiculous question.

My last day, I was discharged around 10am, I had slept badly, my mum was late coming to collect me and I’d stripped my own bed. Betty let me snooze on her bed. She was a sweetheart.

Before I left, when Betty was out of the room, I snuck all the plastic cups I had collected into her bed. I swear to God, five minutes after I’d gone she messaged me to tell me I’d not done a very good job, she had found them straight away.

Discharge

 

This Could Be Obvious

Published July 9, 2018 by helentastic67

This could be more obvious

This could be obvious

Every now and again (like every other week, so it seems) a celebrity or famous sports person gets on the band wagon about their beliefs, that same-sex marriage is wrong and that they feel straight religious people are being bullied by the ‘Gays!’

Same sex marriage

I hope I only have to say this once. I am straight, I went to Catholic School for nine years. OK, I go to weddings, funerals and baptisms if invited. But I’M OK WITH SAME-SEX MARRIAGE.

Approve same sex marriage

People will love who they love. They will live together, buy property together, start businesses together, raise children together. The Government will expect them to declare their relationships for Government benefits and tax purposes.

Government approval

They will just as likely be in a relationship the same length of time as a straight/heterosexual relationship. Why can’t they marry?

Just because I’m a single barren spinster (hoping I’m not going to be single forever) but barren, that’s probably not going to change. That ship has sailed, that ship is in Fiji already. I’m not standing between two people who love each other, having the same rights as anybody else.

Ship has sailed

I’M OK WITH SAME-SEX MARRIAGE.

I can’t believe this is still an issue in OZ…

Ah! And in 2018, we finally caught up with the rest of the world!

Love 2018

 

Carer v Family – Part 2

Published May 31, 2017 by helentastic67

Carer

Carer v Family Part 2

I often find my carers are more…. How do I say this without offending family? Well, I don’t think I can, so I’ll just tear off the bandaid shall I?

My carer left today after shopping, calling out “Love You”, to which I replied; “Love You Too”.

Love you

The only male carer I have does my Homecare (cleaning) and my shopping, two things that don’t require him to see me naked and he is a beautiful young gay “thing” who engages with me all the way around the shopping complex and we converse about anything and everything.

He has been mistaken as my son and I think some people mistake us for a flirty couple. They are rude and disrespectful, then there’s the stalker type who notice him and stalk him. I don’t see or realise until he tells me later, but they love to come up to him and offer him their phone numbers.

Stalker

Seriously! Yuck! If I knew, I would give them some ‘what for’ and if that didn’t work, I would call the police on ‘000’!

If it were back in my club days, I would sort this shit out so easily.

But, anyway, my sweet young carer is going on holidays for a month now so I’ll truly miss him.

This is on the back of my mother being here for literally 24 hours to smash out some things. She left so late last night, she cranked me when she arrived home and it was after 1am.

I rang her tonight to say “thank you” and “I love you” and when she barely responded I told her I would imagine she had said it back to me.

Love you 2

She laughed!

It makes me so sad!

It makes me sadder still that soon, I’m going to lose all my friends. Friends that seem to care for me more than my own family.

Love you 3

Young John – Part 1

Published April 19, 2017 by helentastic67

Taxi Driver

Young John Part 1

Now if I do this correctly, you will cry. Get your box of tissues and if need be, pinch yourself to cry if I can’t do it sufficient justice.

I don’t hate many people because it’s an emotion that is a waste of time, however most people wouldn’t be aware (should you need to know) that I went to High School with Victoria’s current Premier. His name is Daniel Andrews.

To be clear, we were not friends, he seemed an OK type, but I had nothing to do with him one way or another beyond a polite ‘hello’ in passing.

Daniel Andrews 1

But these days, if I saw him I would want to slap him. Probably not in the face, because don’t think Orange suits me, but definitely on the back of the head, like a naughty child.

I say this because I’m lucky enough to have a lovely taxi driver in my life.

His name is Young John. (Get the tissues ready!)

I met Young John about seven years ago, when I went to a local Physio/Rehab centre. He car-pool’s people into the centre. That first day Young John’s yellow taxi pulled up in front of my home and as I stepped outside he called out his greeting “Young Helen”, I instantly assumed I must be the youngest person he had to transport that day. I got in and we drove off. We chatted and when we pulled up for the next person, he got out and greeted the next guy “Young George”. Now George may not be his name, I can’t recall, but “George” was not a day shy of seventy and had, had a double hip replacement.

Young George was helped in and we started again, then conversation flowing easily.

Now, I suspect Young John calls everyone ‘Young’ so as not to offend them. Just like you see a Grumpy Old or vicious dog in the street and you want to pat them, you call them ‘puppy’ and they all seem to melt.

I probably should mention why I want to slap the current Premier for Victoria, said Daniel Andrews?

Daniel Andrews

Young John came here when he was too old to go to school, so he got a job in a factory until he was old enough to get a driver’s license and drive a taxi. He pays so much money to maintain his taxi license and has often driven 7 days a week for 40 years.

Currently, the Australian Government is trying to buy back all the taxi licenses for a fraction of their value. And reissue them to move taxi drivers for much, much more than the previous owners are compensated.

And this is just a tiny rant because I don’t have the time to unpack all the things wrong with Uber and the corruption that is Uber.

Uber driver

I will never catch an Uber and the many, many people from disabled, to elderly to intellectually handicapped that Young John ferries around Melbourne every day will not catch an Uber.

Young John is like my adopted father, often every week day I send him a text message suggesting a pick-up time and location to throw me out. Ok, deliver me in one piece. He responds with an offer. I continue the negotiations and often scooter on Hellonwheels to my final destination locally and walk a small block to where he is often waiting for me.

I get in to him saying “Princess! You’re driving me crazy! I’ll call your mother!” I respond with a prompt “Stop it. You love me!”

Princess

There is a great respect and appreciation tween us and I’m always happier for seeing him and having some friendly banter.

It being a Wednesday today I imagine I think he will be happy when I report he is on his way to being a star! As only he deserves!

With love! Young John.

Love you

Old People

Published March 4, 2016 by helentastic67

Old lady

There are many things to love about old people! I know a few amazing older ladies. But I’ll tell you about them another time. But I love when older people ask me about my arm.

Usually, pre-empted with “What have you done to yourself?” to which I reply with – “I refuse to take responsibility for this!…….”

And I offer a brief explanation.

Then I ask them the same question. Today I asked this of a gentleman at a Medical Clinic I was at, who had a walking stick. His wife answered for him.

“He’s just gotten old.”

Priceless. Love that answer because then I can tell them I expected it to take years longer before I felt as old as I feel……

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