My skimpy beanie in Essendon colours was warm, but could
not hide my baldness. The wig was held on by restrictive bands of elastic which became very annoying after a few hours. Often it resulted in a nagging headache.
My self-confidence took a real beating.
With a battle for life under way, my body and the drugs fighting
the killer disease, some may believe that I really should have
been thankful that everything was going so well, and not so
concerned about my appearance. There were so rnany others
that I saw, who could no longer really worry about the way they
looked. They were just too ill.
But self-image I found to be vital. Not only did it occupy my
thoughts for a great deal of the time, but it gave added reason
to fight.
I would return to school for six weeks at the beginning of
Term Three, in time for a program of revision before the final
exams. Little had been achieved in regards to study during my
initial stay in hospital. Throughout the winter, I had been
in danger of infection, and violently ill at intermittent stages,
so my study habits were haphazard. Whenever I could motivate
myself, I would spread my texts across the dining room table,
and try to rote learn my courses.
