Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Majorly pissed with people
Wonderful day for a trip yesterday. Williamstown was sunny with blue skies, just ideal for being wheeled along the strip and doing a bit of spending. A shame that one pushy bitch person spoiled it for everyone else. She took over completely and instead of all the wheelchairs going to the information centre and on from there, she told the bus driver to go round and round to show her mother the houses she used to live in. Not only that, she stopped the bus and got out to photograph the houses while the wheel chair bound were left inside. Did her mother enjoy that little side trip? I'm not sure since she turned around once and asked my mother, "Where are we?" So instead of sitting along the shore, watching the ships and eating fish and chips, they were stuck in a hotel for the pensioner's meal. There wasn't enough time to get to the beach, thank you bossy bitch. The bus was a disgrace and the driver was a woman. Nothing wrong with being a female bus driver but a burly wharfie with a licence might have done better getting enormous wheelchairs up and down the ramp and buckling them in properly. My mother wheelchair is enormous and heavy without her in it so I know what I'm talking about. The bus itself rattled and shook so much, one resident had to go back by car because of sickness. Shame it wasn't bossy bitch. Mother is still in shock at being so close to craft shops and not spending a dollar or sixty. My other pissed off moment came this morning. A letter from the Alfred hospital asking for a donation for their Intensive Care Unit. Apart from mumbling, ask Ron Walker and Bernie for a donation, as I opened the letter, I thought I might be able to spare $20. Until the letter was put aside and I opened the photographs. Yes, dumb me thought they would be of the ICU and equipment. I was not prepared to see several photographs of a boy hooked up to life support, a boy who could have been mine. Same leg in bandages, chest, throat tube and swollen face, machines in action, same colour hair and so young. The story said it all, about how he lost most of his blood on the road, but how he walked away from ICU. Mine didn't, most of his blood was lost on the OR floor. Next week we would have been celebrating his 40th birthday. Forty years, what does a child look like at 40? So a slight meltdown and the Alfred does not get a donation, I already gave.
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15 comments:
Fucking blogger!!!!!!!!!
Mung, mung, mung. If you only had a slight meltdown you are truly amazing. On either count. My eyes are leaking as a third party. I sadly fear that I would have been kicking, biting and screaming. And, on a periphally related note: has anyone noticed how greedy the charities are getting? In Amnesty's begging letters to me their suggested donation often starts at $500. Needless to say they get my choice of amount - particularly because they extract money from my bank account each month.
I hear you about the donation thing.
I never thought I'd be the person who'd do this, but I'm having to start saying, "Look I'm going to have to stop you there because I already gave. Several times."
I even get letters from the residential college I stayed at during uni, asking for donations so that the new kiddies can have a piano and a nice gym. Hmmm - my folks nearly starved to pay the very hefty accommodation fees and I was miserable for the two years that I was there so they can go and .... well ..... you know.....
Sorry about the crap day in W-town - sounds very poorly organised and thought out.
"Nothing wrong with being a female bus driver but a burly wharfie with a licence might have done better getting enormous wheelchairs up and down the ramp and buckling them in properly."
Geez! I hope Carolinkus doesn't spot this sexist faux pas. ;-)
kFki8bng blogger has just eaten my comment replies of such wit and genius that I'll never replace them. I was signed in you halfwitted moronic robots.
EC, If this state can afford racing cars and bung ticketing systems then they can do all the funding for hospitals. And you can add footballs clubs to that considering the money they pay out for players with quesionable morals just to kick a ball.
Kath, I find it difficult to swear at the charities that use little old ladies for their cold calls.
The day was sussed out by a residents relo and she even went down there to check in person but Miss Bossy is like a runaway steamroller. Even at the Home it's all her way regarding her mother.
I wasn't happy when I found out they hadn't had their flu shots before going out from the Home either.
Ah, Bear, don't think I didn't recall that particular exchange as I was writing.
Are you blogging or just around to annoy other bloggers which takes no effort on your part at all?
I'm just wondering whether you'll get the same treatment I would if I had made such a comment.
Perhaps the fact that you're a woman gives you special dispensation.
I dunno.
Are you finding my quest for a just world annoying?
Say the word, and I shall leave you in peace.
Whoever was in charge of that outing needs a foot up their backside - if you're smart you have the whole day planned right down to the last second and refuse side trips, detours and every "couldn't we just pop down here...?"
They need to take into account medication times, the length of time each person is parked on their fragile posterior, pressure area care, toileting, nutrition, general interest and the purpose of the whole trip which is not to fulfill the whims of some deluded halfwit who cannot get over feeling guilty for not being able to look after her mother herself (Mz Bossy, not you, J).
Well I'm a little offended, the RH Temple of Extreme Thought is enroute, why wasn't it part of the itinery?
Do it next time, Wheelchairs welcome, or line them up on the footpath, plenty of teabags.
-Robert.
They'll all get a cup of tea, that's what I mean. And I'll play the piano for them.
-Robert.
Practising Moon River until the bus arrives.
Kidding, Bear? I'm not the type to stick my finger in a electric socket to see if it's working.
I would be your Pancho in the quest for a just world but I'm far too pessimistic. You keep up the good work for the rest of us and you never annoyed me.
Jayne, I'm so close to punching this bitch but what's the use when the DoN has had her in the office so many times to tell her off and it doesn't stop her.
It's a bit hard when her mother's bed is facing my mother's bed. She's been taking her mother out and giving her non-sanctioned physio and I know that the family have had her up and walking by holding her arms. The woman's had a major stroke that's destroyed 1/2 her brain but they won't accept it. She' comes back in terrible pain and they don't care. I could go on but then I would punch the daughter.
Robbert, I could just see you serenading a bus load of wheelchairs and handing out the tea but I warn you, they like cake with tea and you could get your hand bitten.
Sing it with me now, JT:
"I feel pretty, Oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and..."
I thought about the cake, and a few other things as well, like party hats and whistles, but I don't like making long comments. Organising the tea is your job.
Robbert, I'm not good at tea, you do that and I'll organise the G&T.
Bear, too old to be pretty, I'm aiming for stately as in 'home'with a large balcony.
I've never heard it called a balcony before. Hmmm.. Mam, what a nice nice balcony you have there (ducks swifty).
But you missed my point I think.
Like many parents I came that close to losing both my girls when they were younger - too close - sometimes in gloomier moments I try and imagine what living would be without them - and am so grateful they are still here. You have suffered to most a mother can suffer - and even tho you don't know what his 40 year old self would have looked like - no doubt he is with you and with his children and is be your own angel - no doubt he is at both highly amused by some of your spectacular falls and dramas, and also sending you love to make your way a bit easier - hell I sound religious here...sorry about that
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