I knew that leprosy often begins as a small dot in the palm of one’s hand. You shouldn’t call it leprosy, Mr Chapman said, it was really Hansen’s Disease and the fact that it was still called leprosy in our textbooks went to show you how behind Queensland was in the education system. I had a small red dot on my palm. I couldn’t remember it being there when we lived in Nurralloo. It wasn’t a freckle or a mole, it was a definite dot. It looked a little as though someone had jabbed with a red ballpoint pen or the sharp end of a compass, not hard enough for blood to bead on the surface, just hard enough for it to leak under my skin and form a pin prick red dot. At night I would wake screaming from dreams in which my fingers or my nose slowly crumbled. I wouldn’t even know it was happening and then in the dream I’d look down, casually, see myself in a mirror, and I’d realise in horror why the people in the street or the supermarket had backed away from me. Dad would come in when I screamed and hold me and rock me.
