My Tattoo Nightmare
You may or may not know that my 2018 was everything but smooth sailing. After last year’s disasters and a bit of a health crisis in early 2018, I’ve decided to get a tattoo because I just wanted something good for a change. I’m a big fan of tattoos but I’m very careful about getting them myself. So far, I’ve always needed quite some time to decide if I actually wanna get something.
This time was different.
For about two years, I’ve been trying to get an appointment with a famous tattoo artist from my hometown. When I read online that she was looking for someone who wanted to get Koi fish tattooed, I knew I had to contact her. When I was about 18 years old, I’ve thought about getting a Koi tattooed but didn’t end up going for it.
The day of my appointment didn’t start well.
I had a sore throat which is usually a sign of me getting sick. I didn’t want it to be true though, so I went to a pharmacy and purchased some meds to help. When I came to the tattoo shop, I told my artist that I was feeling a little off. She said that we can reschedule but I would have had to wait until fall. I wanted to get it that day anyway.
I know now that that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.
Because my immune system is already weakened, getting a large tattoo wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Of course, I got sick and ended up having to take another round of antibiotics. The fifth of 2018 to be exact.
The worst was yet to come.
A few days into the healing process I started to get a weird feeling about a couple of spots of my new tattoo. I texted my artist who answered that she didn’t see anything unusual. I wish she was right although I don’t blame her for any of that mess. Since I am more of a worrier than a warrior, I went to a dermatologist nonetheless. He confirmed that my skin was inflamed and prescribed a cortisone lotion.
Fast forward a couple of days where nothing seemed to get better.
So, I went to another pharmacy. At that point, I had visibly open wounds on three spots of my arms. Whatever happened during the healing process of my tattoo removed layer of skin. My pharmacist couldn’t hide her disgusted face and I don’t blame her. I felt very much like Frankenstein’s monster. And all that for getting a fucking tattoo. Her tip was to visit the dermatology ambulance the next day. Thankfully, I was in very good company for the evening so I was able to get my tattoo disaster off my mind. At this moment, there was nothing I could do.
After a long night and too little sleep, I went to the hospital.
At that point, I was pissed on myself, my body and my immune system for never letting me off the hook. In the end, the doctor couldn’t tell me what was wrong or what I was supposed to do. Seemed like she didn’t know anything. When I asked her a question she literally told me that she had other patients and couldn’t do more for me. I was pissed and stayed until my questions were answered. Never going back there again.
Now, a couple of months have passed.
My tattoo is completely healed but the inflamed spots haven’t fully gone back to normal. Although my doctor told me that I shouldn’t get a tattoo with Diabetes, I don’t wanna be given rules and I don’t regret following my heart and going for something that I truly love. And I really love my new tattoo; maybe even more because of the story it captures. It ended up being a little flawed but so is the time of my life it commemorates.