So, you're sitting in a comfortable treatment room in Hay, finally getting that nagging shoulder pain looked at, when your myotherapist starts telling you about the time she managed 40 retail staff across seven shops, or her years working on cruise ships sailing through Alaska. This isn't your typical small-town career path, but then again, Liz Fattore has never been one to follow the typical path. The youngest of six children, Liz was born and raised right here in Hay, where she's recently returned after adventures that took her from the bustling streets of London to the red dust of Western Australia's mining towns. Now she's back where it all began, bringing with her a wealth of experience and a myotherapy practice that's helping locals manage everything from sports injuries to the complex challenges of conditions like fibromyalgia. "I loved my sport, that's what kept me at school," Liz laughed. "My daughter told me the other day that I still have a record at Hay High School, which is pretty special." There's a touch of pride in her voice, tempered by that characteristic Hay humility that never quite lets you boast too much about your achievements. It's ironic, she reflects, that despite her sporting prowess, her daughters have taken a different path. Life works in mysterious ways, she muses; where she was all about the physical, they're more academically inclined. At 19, Liz packed her bags and headed for England to work as an au pair. "I was very fortunate to get flown over there," she recalled. But what started as a young woman's adventure quickly turned into something more substantial. "After my au pair contract finished, I got into fashion retail," she said. Her sister had run a retail shop in Hay years earlier, and Liz drew on that experience as she found her feet in London's competitive retail world. "I did really well in selling, and the boss sent me to manage another store when the manager went on holiday." Success bred more success. "I did extremely well, and he offered me a permanent position. Then I opened up retail shops for him, showcasing mixed European brands," Liz said. Her natural ability to connect with people, honed perhaps by growing up in a community where everyone knows everyone, served her well in the anonymous bustle of London retail. The corporate world took notice. A company in Australia that held shares in her London employer sent a manager to observe operations. "I didn't know he was there, but I made him buy things to reach my target," Liz laughed. "He offered me a position to come back to Australia and open discount shops here." Back in Australia, Liz threw herself into a high-powered corporate lifestyle that would have been unimaginable to her teenage self, playing sport on Hay's dusty ovals. "I had a very city life, living in Sydney and f lying to Melbourne one week, Perth the following week." Managing 40 retail staff across seven shops demanded skills she'd never known she possessed. The girl who'd once been more interested in scoring goals than studying found herself navigating the complex world of retail management, staff rosters, and corporate targets. But after years of airport lounges and hotel rooms, something was missing. "Then I wanted to be free and single again, so I went to work on cruise ships," she said with a smile. For two years, Liz worked aboard P&O cruise ships, travelling throughout Europe and America, including the dramatic landscapes of Alaska. It was the kind of experience that feeds the soul but doesn't necessarily provide the grounding that eventually calls you home. "When I came back, I managed a restaurant here with my sister, at Shear Outback," she said. After years of corporate life and international travel, working alongside her sister provided something she hadn't realised she'd been missing. "We did an Italian restaurant together, which was grounding for me, and gave my sister a chance to show her passion for food," Liz recalled. The warmth in Liz's voice when she talks about her sister is unmistakable. "She's amazing - you go to her house and she has two ovens. She can look at anything and create a dish without even knowing the recipe." It's plainly obvious when hearing Liz speak about her sister how highly she regards her. "It was a great time, working with her. We had weddings there, and there's the history of the Shear Outback. We made money and were glad we had that opportunity. “Then I met my husband - it was all timing and destiny." Liz’s husband is a FIFO worker. He brought stability to Liz's adventurous life. Both their daughters, Elliana and Dania, were born in Wagga Wagga, and as the couple settled into family life, Liz began looking for a new direction. "Before I had children, I needed something to do. Do you remember Johnny and Nola Redenbach? Nola's daughter Katie was doing massage and suggested I try it. I loved sport, so it came naturally," she said. Katie's influence proved pivotal. "She influenced me, and it's true what they say about school friends; you have them for the rest of your life." What started as something to fill time while raising young children gradually evolved into a serious career path. "I started with massage and then got into myotherapy. As a therapist, you need to upgrade and keep your qualifications current. If you can't provide a receipt, it means you're not up to date with qualifications," Liz said. The commitment was substantial. Liz found herself travelling to Albury-Wodonga monthly, leaving her little ones behind to study myotherapy with Katie. It was an investment that would prove invaluable in the years to come. Myotherapy, Liz explains, occupies a unique space in the healthcare spectrum. "It's between a remedial massage therapist and a physiotherapist. We can help with rehabilitation, do dry needling and cupping - it's more of a physical treatment,” she said. "If you have a shoulder issue, we can treat it like a physio, but we can't diagnose. That's where we refer you to a physio for a proper diagnosis, then rehabilitation." we can work on The technical aspects of her work clearly energise her. "Myotherapy is amazing for conditions like f ibromyalgia. With dry needling, you're not pushing and hurting muscles that don't like to be touched,” she said. “Needling helps release tension without manual pressure. It can calm the nervous system too. People with MS have muscles that tighten, and dry needling helps those muscles relax without significant manipulation." Work opportunities took the family to Karratha in Western Australia, where Tim's logistics career flourished and the girls experienced a different side of Australia. "You'd wake up at 6 o'clock just to go to the horse yard, and within 15 minutes you'd be sweating," Liz laughs, remembering the intense heat of the Pilbara region. But Karratha offered unexpected gifts. "I loved it because it gave my kids the opportunity to understand Aboriginal culture. The people there were amazing. We learnt their customs, their protocols, how they survive." Her work in apprenticeship support opened her eyes to cultural practices she'd never encountered. "When I did apprenticeship support work, I learnt things like when they go to a funeral, you can't leave until the main person leaves - so you could be off work for weeks." For daughter Dania, these exchanges became deeply personal. cultural "Dania had beautiful First Nations friends who'd come for sleepovers, and we had to learn their ways. “They were used to sleeping as a family in one room and were initially scared to have sleepovers, so we really nurtured that. It was a wonderful learning experience." The landscape, too, left its mark. "The landscape was beautiful, but you can't buy blocks of land there - you lease equestrian and their options open. "We don't know what the future holds apprenticeship-wise, and there are so many opportunities there, so we're keeping that door open for the kids just in case." land, but can only buy a block to build a house." They had access to the ocean and could drive to waterholes and gorges, a stark contrast to the gentle riverine country of their Hay origins. Tim's work as a logistics truck driver meant navigating the massive road trains that dominate Pilbara highways. "He drives road trains with four trailers behind the truck. When I'd drive up there with horses for events and those trucks come past you, you concentrate on holding the lane and count one trailer, two trailers, three trailers, all right, we're clear." But as fulfilling as the Karratha years were professionally and culturally, family circumstances began to shift the balance. Both girls were struggling with the transition to high school in the mining town's intense environment. Liz's daughter developed a tics disorder, like Tourette's, from stress when transitioning from primary school to a big private college. "The poor little one had quite a challenge, and other issues came into play that we didn't initially realise," Liz said. "In Karratha we didn't get the extra private help with schooling that we needed. Here, even though we're regional and have to travel, we actually get more opportunities to look after our kids." The contrast was stark. "The best thing about moving back is that my kids actually enjoy waking up and going to school," she reflects. "In Karratha it was like a typical chaotic household with threats to call their father. I'm very grateful for the school's special needs classes, my daughter has really settled in well." Her daughter was at a pivotal age where these struggles could have turned her off school and learning altogether. "I'm very grateful we're back, and it's lovely to see familiar faces like Mrs Longworth at the school." The timing of their return proved poignant in another way. Liz was able to spend three precious months with her mother before she passed away, time she will forever treasure. "She was so gentle and placid, but if she had to speak up, she'd put people in their place. I'm glad she had her faculties right to the end," Liz said fondly. The adjustment from Karratha's intense heat to Hay's stark climate has been an ongoing process for the whole family. "When he comes back from Karratha, every old ache comes out," Liz says of Tim, who continues his FIFO work. "He says he never had pain up there, but when he flies back and it's 30 degrees, which is their winter, he really feels it." Even the animals need time to adjust. "My poor dogs look at me like 'please leave me inside,' and we have horses that are wondering where we've taken them. We're double-rugging them because they're used to the heat." The family maintains their connection to Western Australia, keeping their house there For now, though, Liz is focused on building her myotherapy practice in Hay. She briefly considered other options, including getting her motorbike licence for Australia Post deliveries, but decided to focus on the profession she's spent years perfecting. Understanding the unique needs of rural clients, Liz has structured her practice to be as accessible as possible. "I have a Facebook page, and there's an online link where they can book appointments through Clinico." But she also recognises that technology isn't everyone's preference. "I also give out my mobile number for people who might prefer to call rather than book online. “I don't mind if they text me either, and I tell them to text if the online booking shows I'm not available, because sometimes I block out time for other things but would prefer to look after my clients." Her schedule reflects the realities of rural life. "I try to do evenings up to 7 o'clock, which gives me daytime flexibility for personal tasks." This kind of flexibility, understanding that farm work doesn't stop at 5 pm, and people's lives don't always fit into neat appointment slots, is part of what makes rural healthcare work. From the sports fields of Hay High School to the cruise ships of Alaska, from London's retail floors to Karratha's red dust, Liz Fattore's journey has been anything but conventional. Yet there's something beautifully circular about her return to Hay, bringing with her decades of experience and a skill set that serves her community in ways her teenage self could never have imagined. "I think that covers everything," she says simply. "It's good to be back home in Hay." In those words lies the quiet satisfaction of someone who has seen the world, succeeded in various careers, and chosen to bring it all back to where it started. Her myotherapy practice represents more than just another business in town, it's the culmination of a life lived fully, with skills honed in boardrooms and cruise ships now applied to easing the aches and pains of neighbours and friends. For those dealing with chronic pain, sports injuries, or conditions like fibromyalgia, Liz's return represents something valuable; access to high-level healthcare delivered with the understanding that only comes from being part of the community. She's not just treating symptoms; she's caring for people she's known all her life, in the place that shaped her, using skills gathered from the wide world beyond. It's the kind of story that makes you appreciate the complex journeys that bring people home, and the gifts they carry with them when they return.