I started feeling the effects probably in the late seventies, early eighties, and thought it was just something I could deal with.
In 1985, when I was in Shearwater, I actually started scaring people. People on the detachment that I was sailing with refused to have me sleep in the mess. They wouldn't socialize with me. They were actually scared of me. I was very aggressive. I wouldn't think twice about striking out.
I said, “Okay, there is something wrong; this isn't the Billy Maguire I knew five or ten years ago.” I knew then that there was something wrong. When I went to get help from the medical system in place at that time—I agree now the medical system has changed for the better—I was refused help. I was told to get my ass back up to work.