I typically wear my heart on my sleeve. After Friday night, I now wear my heart on my wrist.
I impulsively asked my boyfriend at dinner if he wanted to do something crazy? Based on his look, he was afraid (and typically, he probably should be). I told him I wanted to get my tattoo. He thought I was insane (he usually does), but he never said no. He also never said yes. Somehow, we still ended up at the tattoo shop.
MS patients, for whatever reason, typically don’t talk about their disease. That’s literally impossible for me. I keep referring to this tattoo as a “conversation piece.” It’s an orange support ribbon on my left wrist. I want people to see it. I want them to ask questions.
My favorite thing to be told is, “You don’t look/act sick” or, “You must be faking because you do all this stuff.” Seriously, I love when people think I’m not actually sick. It’s a teachable moment for me. I love telling people about my disease and explaining that, while I don’t look/act sick, at the end of the day, I’m usually a different person. That, at any given time I could end up in the hospital, or lose my ability to see or any various number of things controlled by my central nervous system.
I don’t want their pity; I want their awareness. I want this disease known. The more people who know about it, the sooner we may have a cure. I’m not suffering too terribly right now, but others are suffering every single day from it. They deserve this cure.
This tattoo is my scarlet A. Not the kind I will ever be ashamed of, but more like the Emma Stone character in “Easy A.” I wear it proudly. I want people to see it. I will be fighting this disease forever. Scratch that. I will be proudly fighting this disease forever. I figure, with this tattoo, I’m letting MS know that I’m not backing down from this fight. I don’t back down from a fight. I want the world to know that we can all fight this thing together. They just have to ask.
I wouldn’t wear my heart on my wrist if I didn’t want people to ask why.