Pranking

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Expectations

Published November 8, 2019 by helentastic67

Expectations

It’s really easy when you have an emotional detachment from issues that you can problem solve or find a solution to things when they are not your problems. You can assess the pros & cons and have a realistic expectation.

It’s easy to notice when people change and ??? when things in their live don’t go the way they would prefer.

I have found my circle of friends thin out over recent years, since my diagnosis and disability. Let me give you an example:

Once upon a time, well in last three jobs I worked in, office roles. Doing admin TPO Training Placement Officer) etc. The first job I ended up working up to having admin under my position and I was training them.

One woman, let’s call her ‘Sticks’ (she was tall and slim- don’t real any more it’s it) ‘Sticks’ and I worked there together and the next two places together. I saw her every day or had a conversation on the weekends of some sort.

She and I came from completely different walks of life. She still lived at home, still shared a room with her sister, yet managed to have sex. SEX! Every day with her boyfriend.

To be fair, her version of sex wasn’t mine, however that part is. When we no longer had that common thread, she got a different job (where she imagined she would have more time) and she would see me more.

Spoiler Alert: this did not happen.

For a little while after my treatment and before my hair had grown back and I’d started to see the ‘fall-out’ from my treatment, I’d go do lunch with ‘Sticks’ at the workplace I used to work at. I’d see the people I used to work with also. There was that sense of community I’d been part of, but no longer subscribed to. So for a little while the contact continued. I’d crank her (when you call someone and head up just as they got to the phone – which was something fun I used to do to her in the office, as I’d see her standing not far from her desk across the partitions in the office, so I could tell just how long to ring her and the conversations I’d have over the phone when she was forced to talk in code to have people around  her not know what she was talking about or who) and on a rare occasion she’d call me at midnight. Yes, I know, midnight, wait

Because we were both awake and she wanted to pick my brain about getting or qualified for a mortgage. Wait! I know, I asked myself that question already. What do I know about getting a mortgage? Do I have one? No! I do not. But I would have a credit rating.

I’ve been a renter for so long, to sit down and work out how much rent I’ve spent, not on a mortgage and I’ve had household accounts with my name on them and while I’ve not recently owned a car or ever had a car worth much.  (I had a poor art student car in the form of a Chrysler Galliant from the mid ‘90’s, but did I mention it was a mid 70’s model?) and I have had a Visa for some time.

So, the moral of the story is the less in common you have with your old friends, the less likely you will maintain that friendship.

And it is no-one’s fault, it just is what it is.

 

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

 

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