
How it all began...
My brother has many tattoos. One night, not too long ago, we were out together and I was asking him which tattoo he was going to get next. He has CF too. He's the type of guy who wears it on his sleeve and so he said he'd like to get 65 roses tattoed on his arm. I thought it was a beautiful idea, so I told him I would get it too.
So there I was, sitting on the tattoo chair, having my back prepared. It was my first tattoo, and instead of 65 roses I got two Roses (there is plenty of time to add the other 63 later on). My brother took me to see his friend, a tattoo artist at Wicked Ink, who did a really great job.

It felt half way between a bee sting and that feeling you get when you're sunburnt and someone keeps slapping you on the back. I thought the pain was nothing compared to what I've put up with during all of my hospital admissions. It took three hours. As my brother watched the birth of the artwork on my back, he told me how great it was coming up on my skin and later told me how well I sat for it, saying I didn't even flinch.
Now I have two roses on my back. One represents my brother and the other represents me...we are both proud and enduring people, marked and now tattoed with CF.
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