Post #189 - Easter 2024

Yesterday I visited my parents, having cooked a splendid (even if I say so myself!) toad in the hole and a Bird's trifle in a box.  Clearly my recent bereavement has made me even more arsey, but my temper is very short these days.  Arranging the day was a pain in the arse - apparently I must be as explicit as possible in regard to planning my visits(!)  Dad picked me up and helped me pack all of the food up but hey, as soon as we arrived my brother and his over-enthusiastic golden retriever, Honey, were there and if you know that breed then you'll no doubt be aware that they're very bouncy indeed and we almost dropped the trifle as a result.  My brother is very like his canine housemate in so many years, despite being in his mid-late forties at time of writing.  

It was the usual festival of odd chez parents.  We were just finishing our lunchtime meal (aforementioned toad-in-the-hole, boiled frozen veg, watery gravy ...) when my brother rang the landline, suggesting a trip out to the largest park in the borough.  As you might already be aware, my mother's mobility is seriously compromised by her balance and resulting lack of confidence in walking.  Look - it was hideous - it was horribly muddy due to all of the recent rainfall, my mother had a hiking pole in one hand and my stepfather's paw in the other - all of the time the family (consisting, additionally of my brother, sister-in-law and two teen nieces)  So - we decided to move both cars and head for the nearest road, which meant covering a huge boggy area.  My mother struggled, my brother offered to give her a piggy back(!) and I fell over and then gave them both a piece of my mind.  I then escaped, walked to the nearest exit and was picked up in my stepfather's car - I said to my eldest niece "your father's a complete idiot!"  Harsh, but fair.

My stepfather later told me that we should have gone to a much more suitable park with a nearby car park and proper concrete paths.  He, as ever, was absolutely correct.  

Post #156 - Dealing With Disability In The Family

Mr Logic's younger brother, Uncle Logic, was born with significant physical and mental disabilities in the early 1960s - he attended a special school until the age of eighteen and then spent the time until his mid fifties in the care of my late father-in-law and mother-in-law, both of whom completely ignored his needs.  My father-in-law, whom I never met, died in the mid-1990s and my mother-in-law (Nanny Logic) cared for Uncle Logic until she fell and broke her tibia back in 2012 and never walked again, making outside intervention the only pathway.  She was, however, in her late eighties then and far too elderly to cope.

Uncle Logic always had health issues, but these were ignored for years because Nanny Logic didn't have the mental capacity and ability to understand her adult son's needs.  When I married into the family during the early 2000s I tried to make a difference, but unless she, as his main carer, was deliberately mistreating him, there was very little me and Mr Logic could do - for example, Uncle Logic once developed Bell's Palsy, which could have blinded him in one eye and it was only picked up by us when we visited one weekend.  Mr Logic took him to Moorfields Eye Hospital to ensure the condition was properly treated (with medical Botox if you're interested!)

Nanny Logic developed vascular dementia and after many years of wrangling with the social services, care agencies and all that jazz, she was placed in a local authority home which she died in at the age of ninety-one.  Vascular Dementia is a horrid condition - it slowly kills you over a four year period.  Uncle Logic was housed in a sheltered house for gentlemen with learning and physical disabilities and, a few years on, he's still there.  He has been hospitalised a few times along the way and was even in Intensive Care at various points.  There have been a few issues recently, which I won't go into here because they're on way to being solved and we really appreciate how hard the staff work in the home.

Post #117 - Volunteering Woes

As regular readers may be aware, that since May, I have been working as the volunteer communications officer in the local branch of my chosen charity. This involves drafting the monthly newsletter plus creating and webmastering the new online presence (the website).  My problem is that I'm not a perfectionist by nature and never have been, nor intend to be. This does cause a few issues in regard to working alongside more picky or strident people, as happened during my career quite a few times - it's those Belbin Team roles thing again!  I also take criticism badly and extremely personally.  I suppose that being an autistic female I should understand things a little better, but believe me, most people thing seem to think that I'm wholly unaffected by the condition. I'm really not and my autism tends to come out more in certain environments.  Often I feel that I just don't know the right way to do things at times; dealing with slightly sensitive topics such as disability means that I'm inclined to put my huge size 9 feet in certain places I should not.

It doesn't mean that I want to give up though - I really don't and plan to try to make a difference somehow.  It's just so hard for me - at least I was actually paid money to deal with this kind of thing during my career, now that I'm doing it for free it seems to piss me off so much more.

*Update* - 4th October 2017

Due to the fact that I couldn't really see what the build site looked like on the world wide web, I published the website live last week.  Apart from my husband (and now the bloggersphere, such as it is) I have told nobody.    The committee meeting is tomorrow morning ...

I am planning to emigrate tonight.

*Update* - 22nd October 2017

Both myself and my husband quit the charity last Thursday.  Apologies if my rather abrupt communication style and blog upset anyone - I really didn't mean to.  Thank you to the Branch Officer too - you were great.

Post #5 - Post Diagnosis

When the draft report of private diagnosis popped into my inbox I must admit that it made interesting reading and by that, well, it was a bit like being slapped around the face with a rancid wet fish.  Being a typical Aspie, I zoomed in on the negative aspects such that I 'presented younger than my chronological age' and 'my voice had a montone air'.  Yes, even now in middle age I don't really like being criticised as it eats away at my soul.  I did question certain phrases and conclusions via email and on the phone and yes, they got duly amended.

That said, I'm an Aspie and therefore I'm disabled.  I really never thought that I had 'special needs', I really didn't.  I guess that many people don't really.  It's like going into mourning in many ways; certain careers are verboten now and my life felt and indeed still feels, strange.