Question Tree

I’m used to being in a confused state of mind.  In the past, I have always had everything clearly laid out in front of me.  I would go to university after high school, and I would then do a master’s degree.  Now things that I thought were stable ideas are crumbling beneath me, and I am left with a bunch of little thoughts that lead me in completely different directions.  If all of my questions were one big question tree, it would look something like this.  Where will I be next year? That would be the trunk of my tree.  Do I stay in Victoria?  Do I go back closer to home in Toronto?  Those would be the two main branches of my tree.  To answer any of these questions, I have to consider what is most important to me.  I know that Victoria isn’t going to do much for me in terms of good health care, and so in that aspect, Toronto wins.  But with the growing confidence I have, that whole issue is beginning to mean less and less to me.  Health care is such a broad term.  I don’t know how I feel about the needles.  They are the “health care” I am receiving from Toronto.  Sure, they have made some hair grow, but:

1.     They aren’t permanent

2.     They hurt

3.     I still wear a wig over my head

So in the simplest terms, they have not done a whole lot.  With me growing more and more confident as the days roll along, I question how much they are actually helping me.  Why would I continue to do a treatment, that maybe when stopped, will land me back at square one again?  The immune system is complicated, I don’t even have the desire to learn about it, but from my experience, doctors haven’t given me much hope for my case.  And for me to relocate so as to be more accessible to other weird hair science experiments seems a bit strange to me now.  Then there is family.  I really, really love my family so much.  They are wonderful, and I know I would benefit from being closer to them.  Maybe however, that isn’t the best thing for me right now.  Sometimes, families, although they have the very best intentions at heart for you, don’t always react in the right ways.  It’s hard to explain, but what I’m trying to get at is, that it doesn’t help when my hair situation is brought up all the time.  Or if somebody wants to check and see how much has grown since the last time they saw it.  These gestures rub me the wrong way, I feel like an experiment, rather than like a person. 

Of course, talk to me tomorrow and I will be on the bandwagon to come home as soon as possible.  My mind changes so often.  Maybe as often as my confused cells in my head!!