Osteo

Migraines and Sports

I’ve had migraines since I was young. I don’t remember when they began, I just remember how my Mum solved them. I remember she made a furtive call to whom I didn’t know. Then she would take me on a drive, across town, out on the old freeway, down the road opposite my first primary school, down a dirt road that was a driveway, and after parking next to a building, we entered from the back into a waiting room. it had plywood panels on the walls with long coloured ribbons hanging around most of the wall space.

Apparently, my osteo was also a bull breeder that had awards, not your average osteo. He had a rather Dutch name. Upon entering a buzzer alerted the Doctor his patient had arrived and he would come in before we even sat down.

I remember the last time I went to see him; my dad had offered to take me as he had come home from work and as my Mum had been busy making dinner he volunteered to take me. He didn’t know where it was so with my migraine I directed him. I have to say, he did not trust the location for this “hocus pocus” form of medicine. I remember going inside and how uncomfortable he was. The Doctor arrived and I had to remove my T-Shirt, never does a 12-year-old girl feel so uncomfortable. a towel draped over my non-existent boobies, adjustments, massage and stretching and a payment made then back home again for the magic to settle the pain.

Forty years later, I still see a chiropractor and yesterday I told her I’d had a weeklong Walking/Talking migraine which is my regular these days, it’s just enough to annoy me but not enough to cripple me so I can ignore adulting and responsibilities and just go to bed.

She asked what parts of my face was I feeling it? Because I can usually narrow it down. Left eye, right eye, the thing, the thing or the other thing, this time, while lying on my back I used my hand to wave over my face. “My face! my whole fucking face! like I’ve been hit in the face with a basketball!” I’m really glad people can find humour in my pain.

I do sometimes wonder what happened to that Osteo who breeds bulls and I did about 15 years ago see someone down in Geelong that turned out to be the nephew with the same surname. What a tiny world we live in. It does weirdly help.

Retirement

I have a term for my form of retirement. It’s bullshit retirement where I’m poor, I’m underpaid, I have no holidays, no grandchildren to tend or husband (Yes, I’ve always wanted one, but it just hasn’t happened) and despite being retired, my week is pretty full.

In a perfect week, this is what my diary looks like:

Monday- Shrink, Medicare (the other bank) Osteo, admin, emails, blogging, brain training, bed.

Tuesday – Remedial, GP, admin, emails, blogging, sleep.

Wednesday – Chiropractor, acupuncture, blogging, admin, emails, some self-advocacy, sleep.

Thursday – Cleaning at home, data entry, admin, emails, sleep. At this point you might be thinking ‘What’s with all the sleep?’ You need sleep every night. I seem to these days and I get to bed so late and it’s noisy and I get woken up over and over again. I’m just impressed I’ve banished the afternoon kip during the week.

Friday – a carer for shopping where we get all the hunter/gathering done, any extra shopping I need, any serious cooking as a one-off for the week. Admin, brain training and emails.

Saturday and Sunday – I try to go off-grid on the weekend. No emails, no social media, no mobile phone. Note, I used the word ‘try’ I can’t let it slide completely or else Monday, I would have too much to catch up on.

Over the whole week with phone calls to keep all the balls in the air (euphemism for juggling) emails/calls to keep my home in working order.

Start everyday with a personal carer for one – one and half hours, so I can leave the house fresh and presentable to be seen in public. End most days taking washing off the racks on my balcony and then often having to hang the washing on other racks inside to complete drying, unpack/repack dishwasher process the mail and bills that come in, pay the bills or schedule when I can afford to pay them, order products to keep my independence needs next. This is why I try (there’s that word again) to go off-grid on the weekends.

Weekends are for sleeping, eating, watching TV, sleeping some more, then on a Saturday night forcing myself to do absolutely nothing by putting on a film where all of my attention is taken up by single tasking. Do you get ‘Single tasking’ is a dirty word to me?

All the balls don’t stay in the air by single tasking and if some of these things seem a bit of a luxury and that I’m super lucky. They are not. All of these things need to happen like clockwork, so I maintain at least the level of independence I have now and preferably no less.

Oh, there are also the once a month committee meetings or the ‘other’ bi-monthly committee meetings I participate in to give life meaning. It’s getting monotonous, there aren’t many exciting things to look forward to.

Oh, did we notice an absence of three regular meals a day? Yeah, I prepare in advance back-up breakfasts I can pack and have on the go, on trams, trains or have lunch at 5pm, when I get home. It’s not a great plan, but it’s what it is.

I would have been happy to work until 70 because it would have meant I would have been able to and I would have a decent comfortable standard of living and life.