Meloukhia wrote Stuck, which is a post about hir experience with a panic attack whilst driving over a bridge, and the post alongside the comments got me thinking about driving in general.
I can’t drive. It never used to be a problem, but it’s rapidly becoming one.
My younger sister and brother both learned to drive as soon as they turned 17. I used to feel quite pathetic in comparison–I’ve had problems with anxiety and social phobia since I was a teenager, although it didn’t become truly bothersome until I turned eighteen. That was a particularly gruesome time, and given that I would have panic attacks at the thought of leaving the house, learning to drive was out of the question. I’ve thought about getting my provisional licence in the past, but only in a vague, wistful way–with no actual motivation to get up and do it.
Learning to drive is still out of the question. Although my anxiety problems aren’t as bad as they were (I’ve been working fairly consistently for the past few years, which is something I never thought I would be able to do), it’s still safe to say that I would not be ok with driving. Alongside my mental health issues (which I believe I would need to report to the DVLA, if I were still in the UK), I also have dizzy spells, muscle spasms and fatigue/pain issues that would make driving impractical.
It never used to be a problem. I’d find it inconvenient, sometimes, and a bit frustrating if I wanted to go somewhere on the spur of the moment, the way my brother and sister could. The way my friends did. But for the most part, I could get everywhere I needed to go by bus or train, and the journey would never take too long. I could console myself for any inconvenience with the smug thought that at least I wasn’t contributing to pollution or congestion.
Now things are a bit more complicated. I’m not well, for starters, and I’m in Australia. One thing Australia has that the UK doesn’t is space. Oodles of it. Brisbane sprawls; and my specialists are dotted all over the place.
A twenty minute appointment with my endocrinologist takes three hours out of my day. My former rheumatologist has offices on the
same street as the endo. I’d try and schedule appointments with them both on the same day, so I wouldn’t have to do too much running around. Three hours might not sound like much, but I have to take the train and then the bus to get there and back, so there’s a lot of walking and waiting involved. This wears me out fairly quickly. If I have an afternoon appointment, it’s going to be a lot more draining as I don’t cope well with the Queensland sun between 11am to about 3pm. It triggers dreadful headaches, dizziness and something that may or may not be rosacea.
The psychiatrist is only ten to fifteen minutes away by taxi, but the taxi journey is about $26-30 depending on the traffic, so it’s a twenty minute train journey, a five minute walk to the bus stop, then another twenty minute bus journey, then a ten minute walk to get there. (Up a ridiculous hill, no less. I think it’s a conspiracy–they put the mental hospital at the top of that hill to try and wear us crazies out before we get there.) I only get the taxi back, and cringe at the cost as I do so. I’m having massive doubts about doing CBT, even though I think it might do me good, because I’d need to get a taxi home twice a week and it’s just too expensive.
I haven’t started my hydrotherapy yet, because the service provider is located about an hour away. And you guessed it: I’ll have to take the train into the city so I can catch a damn bus, and go through the same rigmarole to get home. That’ll be around two hours of travel time in total, and about an hour for the hydrotherapy. Honestly, just thinking about it wears me out.
I haven’t been swimming since I made this post, because it takes about half an hour to forty-five minutes to get to the pool, and although I might be able to make it there without any problems, I’d probably need a taxi to get home and I cannot afford to keep doing that.
It would all be a lot easier if I could drive, but I can’t, and I think it would be a bad idea if I decided to learn. My partner has been thinking about lessons, but even then, how could we
afford a car? I’m only working part-time, and we have a mortgage to pay off. Also, she wouldn’t be able to drive me to appointments without taking time off work herself, and that’s not exactly ideal.
It’s getting to the point where I only go out to see a doctor, or go to work. I don’t go and see friends or participate in social activities because getting there takes time and energy that I
simply don’t have. It’s not just physically tiring, it’s mentally tiring as well–I find travelling and co-ordinating train and bus times incredibly stressful, especially if I’m on my own and going somewhere new. I’m the kind of person who gets to an airport fifteen hours before her morning flight is due to depart, just so she doesn’t run the risk of missing the plane.
I don’t know what the solution is, really. I don’t think I’m going to need to see my endocrinologist or rheumatologist quite so regularly in the future, but that doesn’t help me now, does it? I’ve never felt the lack of a car so keenly before, but right now, I really, really wish I could drive.
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