tattoo
I realized that that I didn’t leave out an important piece of myself, done last week. The tattoo.
I was taken by the greetings, I was excited … I don’t know … but now let’s fix it right away.
I actually got two tattoos. The first a glass of cosmpolitan on the left wrist (same as my friend). the second this in the photo above the right ankle
I needed something to get me started, to help me. In these two years almost (since I became deaf) it was no longer me … I had let fear take over, decide for me. I could no longer be alone, I slept with the light on (because at night the system is removed and therefore I was in absolute silence).
Then along with the deafness there was the disease, the pain, the hospital, the hospitalizations, the operations. Sometimes I have wished to die. It’s true. I asked to stop suffering, to say enough, because the pain was too much, because it was something too big to bear. The last operation on my head in May 2021 gave me the final blow .. it made me feel miserable, I saw the look of compassion in the doctors who looked at me with my head all bandaged. I felt the judgment and the word “poor thing” on my skin. I cried a lot ….
Then came (after three years) the diagnosis, the cure … the summer when I was swollen with cortisone and medicines, with pink hair to cover the cuts on my head. The chemo, the nausea, the feeling of sickness and even thinking about how to do it, trying to leave for London, being alone for some time and then returning for therapy.
Then with the last therapy in February 2022 I thought I had gone out and the thought of something that would make me restart like a tattoo like the phoenix. Reborn from the ashes.
Appointment set at the end of April. But then the relapse … back in the hospital, again the crying, the despair and the thought of having to do it all again. In the end I only had one chemo session and then the maintenance treatment was changed (a stronger one than before which wasn’t all that optimal for me).
I understood how my super doctors said that having a rare autoimmune disease (i.e. my immune system has gone mad and attacks the pachymenings giving me meningitis) there is no real cure, but it goes by trial and error, considering the drugs that I take or not.
After hospitalization I regained some strength, I recovered slowly (I’m still recovering) and ten days ago I did. Tattoo.
Something was needed to put a line, to draw a line … because maybe we can start again, maybe I can get back into the game, change my life, my job. I mean, if I don’t do it now … I don’t know when.
The tattoo experience was super. My very delicate tattoo artist did not feel anything (as my doctor would say ,,, “you had cortisone what did you want to hear”). But most of all now I have already found a new tattoo for September.
A rose … then I will explain where and why I chose it.
I mean, my body needs it.
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