My family had become well-adapted to my erratic routine. The
demands which my situation placed on all were great, and often
at the expense of others' needs. Melissa and Dale were still at
school at this time, Linda was at University, and Gary was working.
They learned to live with a persistently sick brother, and accepted
that I needed special attention from our parents. All gave
tremendous support to me; in fact they still do.
I worked hard through the weeks before the exams, and the
doctors altered my schedule of drugs to allow me a healthy
outlook for this important time. My escapes from study came
in peaceful walks, or energetic sessions practising on
my drumkit. Music has always been a key interest.
I was readjusting to school life, but I wondered why no one
questioned my experiences nor drew attention to my false hair.
I had reappeared amongst a group of tense, preoccupied
Year 12’s who lacked real confidence in approaching me and
discussing my past or my future. Many of my friends seemed
to actively avoid me, or only engage in small talk.
Our school had very strict rules regarding the length of students' hair
and the wearing of correct uniform, so it was lucky that the
School Marshall knew that I wore a wig. It could have been quite
embarrassing, because the wig was longer than hair was allowed
to be. I was still most definitely worried about my hair, and would
be for months to follow. Naturally it took much longer to grow
back than I had imagined or had been told.
