Training

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Today’s Lunch – 4th March 2020

Published March 4, 2020 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

R.I.P. last Friday, I lost one of my favourite carers. They are all my favourites they just all bring something different to the party. This carer I will likely write about in a future post. I’m going to refer to her as FP, I only had 5 minutes notice before she arrived for her last shift. I would have FP up to 8-11.5 hours for 1 week every month and often mistaken as my daughter. She has not passed on but merely gone to study for the next stage in her life. I had, had her as my carer for three years! I mean, I had just gotten her trained. She could accurately read my mind, finished my sentences and I got to feed her.

I’m a feeder! I love to send my carers off with something to eat on their way to their next shift. I used to ask FP if her mother questioned me feeding her and the response was this. “If I go home and eat my dinner she doesn’t need to know” I believe this is exactly how she put it. I think she might waste away and her mum might wonder why, I might need to prepare her a care package.

Now, Autumn has arrived in Melbourne and I’m never happier than when wearing full black. It’s a rather strong Melbourne trait and it doesn’t hurt, it’s very slimming. I was down in Cliffy Hill yesterday to see my GP and he loves to encourage me to get on the scales. I fight him every time! It’s been good to catch up on some blog writing, as I will do again today over lunch.

Today’s lunch is the brain grain salad, because sometimes I need all the help I can get and medicine!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After another long day I’ll have to go home and give Mika to sit her down and give her the talk. You know, the one about how one of her favourite people is now gone from our lives.

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.

 

Human Resources

Published February 9, 2018 by helentastic67

Human Resources

Human Resources

I’ve been putting off a major decision lately because it means I’m about to lose all my friends. I guess it’s not so much a decision, but more about timing.

Major decisions

Because I now have the NDIS funding, I have been allocated hours for more Carers, many more hours. But I can’t use more hours with my current Carer Provider. I need to start using an actual Agency.

My Carers over the years have been supplied through my Council, who only want to provide me with five hours a fortnight. Seriously!

What are you supposed to do with five hours a week, let alone over two weeks! Not much.

Because I’ve held off telling my grumpy Council I’ve been approved for the NDIS (because they would drop me like a hot potato).

Hot Potato 1

I will lose my mind, training a bunch of new Carers, to be able to cope with me and have them, I’ve started filling in the gaps that my Council didn’t provide.

That means Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday, Sundays. The last three weeks I’ve had a shower each day on the weekends.

It’s a MIRACLE.

Miracle

I can shower myself. I can even dry and dress myself. But it’s exhausting and if I needs to wear a bra, I can get it on, but it’s never comfortable.

So far, I’ve had three new Carers, it seems there’s not many in my area and they are generally not prepared to travel for a shift shorter than an hour and a half.

I am much better at the whole HR-thing these days. (Human Resources) I’ve been getting Carers for about six to seven years now. My mum was very ‘keen to train’ my Carers, thinking it would be maybe, five Carers in a room and well, I don’t know what she was thinking.

I would love my current Carers (friends) to do a handover, but in reality, I get a new Carer, one at a time and induction begins the second they arrive.

Training

I’m friendly and inviting and while I show them around I show them the list of ‘chores’ I would like them to be able to get through while they are there.

Dishes get done, Kitty litter changed, rubbish and recycling get taken out all while I’m in the shower. Nothing too challenging.

Kitty litter

But the personality match is always just as hard as finding someone who knows how to wash dishes. (Seriously, stay tuned for my training guide on how to correctly wash dishes.)

Washing dishes

I.D. is not ABI

Published October 6, 2017 by helentastic67

ID not ABI

I.D. is not ABI

Apples and Oranges, it is often that people will assume all people with Brain Injuries are idiots or in some way Intellectually Disabled.

(I.D.) to be fair, it depends if that person was an idiot before they got their ABI or how long they were in a coma (if that is relevant) No idiots ‘here’ I promise!

One of the people in my ABI network had a rant the other day about an organisation I’ve only heard of recently.

There was no background for why I needed to hear the rant, but one of my fearless leaders in her need to rant explained said organisation was originally based around providing services for people or carers of people with I.D. In recent times, they have expanded their services to be more inclusive (don’t we ‘love’ that word?) to cater to other disabilities.

Ranting

All of this is relevant as my mother now months passed did some ‘training’ with said organisation where there were only 11 other ‘carers’. The training was for how to do the application for the funding for NDIS. The training was 2 days a week over 6 weeks and mum travels (unfunded) 3 ½ hours each way to do these things. She generally stays an extra day and by the 6th week she was here a whole week.

Training

By the last week, we had really had enough, to be fair, mum has a foot in both worlds. When she’s home, she doing “her stuff”, but I’m sure it plays on her mind what I need help with. When she’s here with me, she’s mindful of being home to work and make some money.

Like a Rockstar, my mum might arrive at midnight and she leaves so late a few days later, she cranks me when she gets home and it’s 3am. If she doesn’t ‘crank-me’ I worry. I’m generally still awake anyway.

Rockstar

When Mum’s down, she is always very tired, she has her head in a book or culling emails as until recently, she has had 3rd world internet access where she lives.

Internet

No, really when my younger sister and mum are rarely visiting, they have their heads in their laptops and they are like two teenagers (67 and 28-year-old teenagers) and while I’m on it, now my mum has the NBN now, so I’ve lost one excuse not to go home at Christmas.

Anyway, I digress.

The training my mum participated in was with eleven others. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to attend also. I do manage all my own “day to day”, all my own accounts and dealings. But it became more obvious when mum explained to the other eleven people were carers for ‘kids’ with ID. Varying ages, from Primary school age to my age. But severe ID with complicated and multiple issues, including ‘PIKA’ – type issues.

No eyebrows, eyelashes, no whiskers on the cat – poor cat. Bad! Bad! Bad! Complex issues. Did I mention I live by myself?

ID

While mum was down, she would constantly point out to me that I had to ‘act’ more responsibly in public, because the Disability sector and people with disabilities are being disrespected and I therefore had to carry myself in a way that was beyond reproach.

Training 1

If we were out shopping together, I might do a little grumpy ‘pout’ about something (I’m not beyond a little grumpy pout on occasion) but mum would growl at me and scold me.

“Remember what we talked about? Well, stop it!”

Yeah, that shit!

So, my point if you stayed with me is, when I found out the organisation in question was from an ID background it explains why mum was treating me less like someone who manages everything for myself.

Of course, I really now feel more for those with ID and how they get treated.

Ironically, when I’m out and about with my Carers, we chat all the way around the supermarket or wherever I have to go. Whatever topic we are discussing, we will put a ‘Pin-in-it’ when we have to stop and focus on a purchase or product or whatever else.

Shopping

And then we walk to the next shop or location and the previous discussion continues.

If I’m telling my Carer about a topic that is a bit less – public consumption. I abbreviate to make a point and at times I turn my head toward them to deliver the punch line, so only they hear it.

They often burst out laughing and I can’t help but smile and this is often what people see of me when I’m out and about.

This is one of the huge differences between family and my carers. My carers are only concentrating on the moment. I know they get paid to be there with me, but we are engaged and however their day started, going out with me cheers them up. Whatever stress or drama they had going on earlier, I manage (without intending to) to take their minds off it.

I think this is my gift to those people who allow themselves to be immersed in spending time with me. Of course, I attempted to explain the difference, I found in my mum dealing with me when she’s attending this training and scolding me.

“How dare you…….. on how I choose to help you!”

That hurt.

Truly, this is why I blog!

I hope you can tell my mum and I love each other, however we often do better apart…

Mum and me

Grumpy! But consistent!

Published August 5, 2016 by helentastic67

Grumpy_bear

Grumpy! But consistent!

Once upon a time, back in the day of when I worked in clubs, I had a habit of standing near the ‘doorbitch’ off to one side.

Actually, at this point I should explain the ‘doorbitch’ was generally the ‘hot-sexy-chic’ with attitude outside checking for suitable clientele to be allowed into the venue. In this case, I am referring to the other ‘Hot-Chic’ who did none of the ‘take your money’ and give you other kind of attitude.

I used to stand to one side of her to wait for my friends to greet people I knew and assure them the next level of the club would soon be open and sometimes to give my drink-card to a grumpy patron who didn’t want to wait for their favourite DJ/floor to be open for their pleasure.

Sometimes, I stood there to be protective of the doorbitch, so I could do ‘Grumpy’ when anyone wanted to give her attitude.

Seriously! You have just walked up three flights of stairs before even paying any money! All you need to do now is pay some money (very little, really) then proceed to the bar (over-there) The DJ booth (over-there) and the dance floor (over-there)!

Have a good night!

Why the attitude?

Grumpy pants

So at times I enjoyed doing the stance of feet apart hands behind the back, polite smile but occasional snarl. Sounds bitchy – don’t I?

My boss came up to me and told me he ‘wanted me out there!’ Talking obviously, circulating and whatever.

And quite frankly, I’d been there from 9pm, I would still be there at 5am! And sometimes I didn’t want to have to be prostituted and paraded all fucking night so I would pick and choose my time Thank-you!

I would wander off to have it seem as if I was doing his bidding, but after I had done the rounds I would return to be told by the ‘doorbitch’ she didn’t care what the boss had said, she appreciated me being there. It made her feel ‘safe’!

The message here is ‘sometime you just need someone to stand out and do silent and overbearing grumpy to make sure people do their job/or just be a decent human being in this case.’

And then there’s today’s dilemma.

Tomorrow, I’m doing a day of training! A whole day! I know exciting!

Its training so I can sit on committee’s and boards and have a voice to make changes etc. Or else what’s the point of having a brain injury and the intelligence of being able to make it easier for others in the future.

Normally, on the Friday (fortnightly) I have certain services to clean my home and get taken shopping.

Trying to plan ahead, I contacted my service provider to move those services to the Thursday. I would still need a carer on Friday in the early/early morning (8am), so I could have help and be presentable and be able to get myself to the city to participate from 10.30am – 5pm!

grumpy sign language

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve had to speak to negotiate, demand whatever for someone to do their God-Damn job and roster people at the correct time, so I can go to this training day!

It has gotten to the point that every time the service provider has failed to get this simple request right, I’ve called on my mum to step in and fix this!

As you can imagine, it’s not the first time and I rarely ask anyone to solve these things, but eventually I think enough is enough and it shouldn’t be this hard. And you can imagine my mum is over this as well, because she first tries to manage me! Which I hate.

Because I’ve still got to deal with what I still have to do. I need to eat, have caffeine so I can go pay a bill so I can keep awake and avoid the pre-dinner kip, so I can go to sleep before midnight…

So I can wake up at 8am and hopefully have a carer here who knows my routine, so I can start the day without too many busy questions, so I can have breakfast on the train into the city.

So, I can collect a coffee before going into training and so I can retain information and contribute not just to the training but to the community and to life.

Sometimes, I want my mum to do silent and grumpy and overbearing to get shit done…

Grumpy cat party animal

 

 

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