Surviving, by Carly Williams (Korowa Anglican Girls' School)
I am Sam and I am surrounded by problems.
My father died a few years ago in a car crash. It has been so hard without him. I miss his little ways. Like the way he used to say to me I’m so brave. I pray to God every night that I will see him again.
I have been diagnosed with leukaemia. As if the cancer is not bad enough it seems my treatment causes an even bigger problem, BULLYING.
The medication makes me lose my hair and I get called ‘Baldy,’ ‘leukaemia freak’ and ‘hairless boy.’ I go to school at St Tabs. I hate it. I come home and cry and cry. I always wish and wish that I was just normal.
One day my teacher greeted me with a big smile. I quietly went to sit down and the boys behind me threw a paper plane at my head. I opened it up and it said, so original, “Hello Baldy.” A man walked through the door. His name was Anthony and he was at school to discuss the issue of bullying. He asked who was being bullied.
I was too scared to put my hand up. I knew for sure I would be bullied even more. My teacher glanced at me, I looked away. I did not want her to know how I was feeling. I wondered if the teacher called Anthony in just for me or for everyone. Waste of time that all was. It did not stop the bullying.
A few weeks later I was sick again and in hospital. My treatment was making me really ill.
My teacher explained to everybody in my class that I was sick and in hospital. I assumed everyone at school was happy that I was in hospital. At the very least, no one would care.
While I was in hospital I felt like an alien. I am different to everybody else. My mum says I’m normal and just like everybody else, but I’m not. I received no get well letters or flowers and nothing from anybody except from my family.
My doctor explained that I required an operation. I was extremely scared. It seemed that my cancer was getting worse. Everybody at school was happy that I was not there.
When I returned to school there were no surprises. I was still teased. I talked to my teacher, the principal and Mum. I don’t think any of them understood what I was going through.
After school and I learned that I have might not make it through the treatment. I went into shut down. My heart sank. How can I die? I have had the worst life. I haven’t had a chance to really live. I burst into tears and hugged my mum. I wanted never to let go.
After a while I settled down and asked Mum, “if I died and went to heaven would I see Dad again?” “You won’t die,” said Mum. “You can’t.”
The next day I didn’t go to school. I stayed home and thought of Dad. I imagined him saying to me, “you are so brave.” My Mum said to me that she broke the news to my class. I considered returning to school the next day.
I walked in and nobody, not one person said I was bald or a leukaemia freak.
I wondered if my teacher had told everybody to stop calling me names. I don’t think she did because it has never worked before. Everybody started coming up to me and giving me cards with big smiles. I read all of them and they all said ‘sorry’ and ‘good luck with your treatment.’
When I arrived home I went to my room and said to myself: maybe for the last few weeks of my life I will know what it is like to have some friends and not be bullied. I thought it was a good wish to have.
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