Why? Why not?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I guess it all started when my youngest sister, Ginger, called to say she’s in a nursing home with stage four breast cancer that has metastasized in her brain and spine.\u00a0 What do you do with that?\u00a0<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I drove the 1,600 miles from Arizona to be with her in Northwest Florida \u2013 in the small town where we were born and raised.\u00a0 Where our parents lived and died.\u00a0 The place Ginger wants to be buried. \u00a0\u00a0I\u2019m living in my van here, and I\u2019m parked in a RV park about 5 miles from her nursing home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ginger is paralyzed from the waist down; she has trouble with her vision and sometimes sees four of an object.\u00a0 Yet I can ride my Ebike back and forth to see her. What do you do with that?\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n She likes for me to bring her a cup of Starbucks. I get her a cup every morning. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n In response to my sister\u2019s cancer, my world has changed.\u00a0 My desert view of cacti and mountains suddenly morphed into live oaks and azalea blooms.\u00a0 Ginger and I have spent hours, days, weeks, and now months together.\u00a0 We\u2019ve laughed, reminisced, and imagined.\u00a0 We\u2019ve played \u201cwhat if\u201d and \u201cwhy not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rowan, our great niece and a tattoo artist, flew in from Colorado. Ginger and I laughed, \u201cWhy not?\u201d \u201cOf course!\u201d was Rowan\u2019s 22-year-old response. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Ginger and I agreed to use the same tattoo, each slightly altered \u2013 mine is a horse with a wolf at her feet. Ginger\u2019s is a zebra with a wolf. <\/p>\n\n\n\n After dark, Rowan came to the nursing home and shut Ginger\u2019s door. Ginger made me go first. Something about me being the oldest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t know much about tattooing \u00a0\u00a0After scrubbing my forearm \u2013 a lot – Rowan put a stencil of the design above my wrist using something like old-time carbon paper. Rowan stopped joking round when she put on her headlamp; she was totally focused as she dipped what looked like a Dremel into a small vial of ink. \u00a0I learned that the proper name is rotary tattoo machine and there are many needle choices.\u00a0\u00a0 The sharp point vibrated as it pierced my skin.\u00a0 Not deep.\u00a0 But deep enough to lay down ink that will be there when I die. As Rowan tattooed the crown of the horse\u2019s head near my wrist, I remembered when I was pregnant with my son \u2013 all excited, up to the point my water broke.\u00a0 Then I questioned what I\u2019d gotten myself into though I knew it was too late to change my mind. \u00a0\u00a0Same thoughts about getting this tattoo. \u00a0Too late now. Yep, it hurt a little in a couple of spots but not as she worked away from my wrist and towards my elbow.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rowan is a great artist, one who enjoys skin as her medium Ginger checked out my arm and was happy to go next. When we were both tatted, Rowan brought out the margaritas that she just happened to bring with her inks. We toasted Rowan and laughed \u2013 probably too loud \u2013 as we wondered if anyone else had ever gotten a tattoo in the nursing home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next morning, Ginger got busted by the Infectious Disease\/Wound Control police. They stood around her bed, clucking concerns about her getting her skin pierced by someone from the outside, while receiving radiation for brain cancer. Ginger was not happy that they came when she was alone; she was certain I should have been there to take the heat with her. The fun police didn\u2019t have a sense of humor. But they can\u2019t erase the memories we have tattooed on our hearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Today when I walked in, Ginger rolled her head on the pillow and said, \u201cLook at this.\u201d On the side of her head were globes of hair that looked like it had spent the night in the shower drain. I asked, \u201cAre you going for the dread lock look?\u201d She laughed and said \u201cNo, I woke up from a nap, and this is what I found.\u201d I said, \u201cWould you like for me to brush it?\u201d She smiled. I gently pulled and worked with the hair she\u2019d worn long since high school; skeins fell out \u2013 onto the pillow, the blanket, my shirt, filling the brush over and over. She was quiet as the pile of long grey locks filled the garbage can by her bed, and then she said, \u201cThank you for being with me.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Today she still has some beautiful hair; tomorrow, her hair may be all gone. What do you do with that? I don\u2019t know, but we\u2019re sisters. Hair or no hair. Cancer or no cancer. And we have the tattoos to prove it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My first tattoo I got my first tattoo for my 76th birthday. In a nursing home. Drinking margaritas. Why? Why not? \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I guess it all started when my youngest sister, Ginger, called to say she’s in a … Continue reading ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/gypsyjudge.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/05\/image_50404097-scaled.jpg\")
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