The worst anniversary.

Dear 2011 Liz:

It's 2013. You lived through what was the worst, and scariest, part of your life thus far. When you found out, you didn't think you would live through it, but I'll be the first person to tell you that you did, and, if I can say so, with flying colors.

You never thought you would hear the big "C" word at 25. That just doesn't happen to people. Especially not people that young. I still felt invincible. And if it does, they don't live long enough to tell about it. Sure, you smoked, but you sure as hell didn't think it would cause something like this (and it didn't, just wanted to throw that out there).

Cancer was scary. It always is. But it's gone. And now that its been two years, you don't have to go to the dermatologist every three months anymore! It's twice a year from here on out. You lived. You did everything you could to make your life better.

One thing I will say, though, is you will never forget. Won't forget the fear. Won't forget how thankful you should be for every day you're given. Won't ever forget how lucky you were to get the prognosis that you got. How lucky you were to be taken care of. Won't ever take a day for granted.

On the worst anniversary of your life thus far, please, just don't ever forget. It made you a better person, you just had to go through hell and back to figure that out.

the most meaningful of my tattoos.
the tattoo that changed my life forever.

Tattoo Stories #2

Since I'm bringing back all of my old favorite posts, here's the second installment - though I know you've had to wait awhile - of Tattoo Stories. Another of mine, but I have enough that I could keep this going for a year with just mine!

This piece is one of the first ones I ever got on my legs. As someone who loves music, it has always been a huge part of my life, and that includes in my tattoos.

Tiger Army has been one of my favorite bands for as far back as I can remember, and this tattoo, consisting of a black rose and banner with my favorite song's title, "Outlaw Heart", was exactly what I was picturing and exactly everything I wanted this tattoo to be. They have a lot of black roses in the imagery of their songs, and it just seemed very fitting.

Still, to this day, even with how many tattoos I have, this is still one of my favorites and will likely forever be, only because of the story behind it and how special this band still is to me.

Would you like me to feature your tattoo story? Please e-mail me at anepicliz@gmail.com and we can set something up!

Until then, though - here's one of my favorite Tiger Army jams, "Rose Of The Devil's Garden":

Tattoo Stories #1

In attempting to keep things interesting around here, I had the idea the other day to pick a tattoo (of mine) on a weekly basis and write a story about it. A two-folded reason, really - it's a way for me to share a large part of my life, and also be more personal about my blog. If people dig it, I would love to open it up and have my readers tell their tattoo stories as well!

I felt like a great place to start is with my first. I got her about three days after turning eighteen, so she looks a little worse for the wear ten years later. I really need to get in and get my sleeve reworked and finished. The story is pretty simple, and like one I'm sure you've heard a thousand times before. I lost my grandma, someone I was very close with, at the age of fifteen, and haven't ever quite been the same since.

The night she died, I was angry at someone else and did not go up to see her. Little did I know, it would be my last opportunity to do so, and I feel like my heart broke even more when I was woken at about 3 AM to the news. It's not something that's easy to get over, and I will definitely always regret it, but it also taught me a lot of things - things like how short life is, and not to argue without a damn good reason anymore.

The basis for the original design was an Amy Brown art piece, called "Forget Me Not". I felt like it was an appropriate homage to my grandma, as we went to a small shop a few months before she passed and she purchased a print of the artwork. I had it on my wall for years, and from the point I received it, I knew it would be my first tattoo.

Since the original piece was finished, I extended it down to my right wrist and had some custom work done around it. I attempted to take a photo of what's there as of now, but I'm fairly certain I almost threw out my rotator cuff attempting.

While I'm thinking about it - have you started following An Epic Liz on bloglovin' yet? Also don't forget to Like on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/anepicliz! July is not too far away, and I would hate for you to miss out on posts! I'll do what I can to put up reminder posts between now and then so nobody forgets. :)

Check back next week for another of my tattoo stories!

Changing perception day by day..

Once in a great while, you have a conversation that makes you think. It can be with someone you already know or a complete stranger, but it happens, and you can’t get it out of your head for anything. And you don’t want to.

Since I got my first tattoo at age eighteen, I have been viewed differently. Of course, one in three people in the United States have at least one tattoo these days, but there has always been a stereotype leading back to a negative connotation – bikers, drug addicts, and all around bad people. I am, of course, none of those things, and I know it. As I added onto the collection of color on my skin, I noticed more and more that I was being looked at in public, and these days it is not uncommon for a random person to make a comment to me, or reach out to touch my skin. For the most part, I don’t mind it. More times than not, they are respectful interactions.

I was probably 19 or 20 when this photo was taken. 

I am not writing this as some sort of sermon about how all people with tattoos aren’t bad people. Individuals who fit into the negative connotation still exist, and they are everywhere. What I am out to say, though, is that I am proud of myself. Proud of what I have been able to do with the life I’ve been given. I have a great full-time job, a home, and a relationship with someone who cares about me. I make enough money to live, and then some. I am supported by friends and family, and they are more protective of me than anything else.

Going with the negative connotation by the general public, though, I still notice things. I am stared at constantly at stores and restaurants, especially when I am with family. I have been followed around at stores in the past since I apparently look like someone that would steal (to the point that I had to get money out to prove I could pay for the things I was carrying). In order to interview for my current job, I wore long sleeves, wore my hair down, and removed the facial piercings that I could, just to not be judged.

And you know what? I got that job. And the one after it. These days, I hide nothing. I am accepted. I work each and every day just like everyone else, tattooed or not. What the general population still sees, though, is my tattoos, not me. And you know what? That’s fine with me.

Being heavily tattooed is wonderful in some aspects and a burden in others. Wonderful in that I have set out, from basically day one, to change people’s minds about heavily tattooed individuals. I do what I can to volunteer with free time to improve the lives of others. I field questions whenever I get them – my favorite is the “didn’t that hurt?” in response to my septum piercing – and just all around attempt to help improve people’s view of someone ‘like me’.

What this all comes down to is the conversation that I had yesterday. I was at a local Michael’s store, buying a bottle of Mod Podge to continue a project I’m working on. I was just about to the checkout, when there was a woman standing there asking the cashier a question. Instead of just walking away, though, she took one look at me and took me aside. “You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen.”

Standing there in my thrifted Rod Stewart t-shirt from 2007 and my bright purple corduroy shorts, I didn’t exactly believe her. She looked at my tattoos, made a comment about the Vincent Price portrait on my thigh, and asked to give me a hug. I didn’t exactly know how to take this sudden flow of positivity, but I just went with it. I hugged her and we launched into a conversation about who I am, what I do, and how much I appreciated her amazing comments. So often, someone makes a single comment and doesn’t say anything else.

2010.

She introduced me to her daughter, who, just by looking at her, reminded me a lot of myself in high school. Dark hair, a Joan Jett t-shirt, studded belt. A person I have been. In some aspects, likely outcast for not being the status quo, but also due to the help of her supportive mother, taking life by the horns and doing what she wants to do anyway – looks included. It was refreshing.

I was, and am, lucky to have the parents that I do. I have been fully supported in most every viable decision that I have made to get myself where I am today. The girl’s mother reminded me a lot of my own, and it made me happy to know that someday, maybe at my age, the girl would have the same attitude that I do about life and the world around her.

They told me they are working to put together a project centering on changing people’s minds about the tattooed community, and I was all in. I gave her my information, and we parted ways. She told me that she would call or e-mail me to keep in touch, and I hope she does.

Sometimes, conversations strike you at exactly the right time, and the words are exactly both what you need to hear, and what you need to say.

I wish life could always be that pure.

Weekend Recap!

You know, I haven't ever done one of these before, but I thought hey - it could be fun! So here goes.

I took the day off of work early on Friday, and decided to take a friend up on a tattoo deal at his shop for Friday the 13th, and grabbed some new ink!

The piece is based on a quote from Timothy Leary: "What you have to beware of is transcendent reality, the looking in and looking out". I thought the quote was interesting, and the piece turned out absolutely awesome. Done by Kyle Cook at Horseshoe Tattoo here in Milwaukee.

Then, I almost died in a hail storm since I was driving home. I didn't mind the rain, the hail just made it scary and I had to pull off into a random residential neighborhood and wait it out. 

Friday night, I reorganized the living room. The book shelves were getting incredibly full of collections and you could barely see the books on them! We decided to get some wall cubes and shelves in order to keep that stuff and the books separate. I think it turned out great!

The rest of my weekend was pretty simple: errands and knitting scarves! I can't wait to share what I worked on!

What did you do with your weekends?

My cancer story.

Six months ago this week, something happened to me. Something that I've been working to rationalize but haven't wanted to talk about, but that needs to be discussed so awareness is raised.

On October 10, 2011, I went to the dermatologist where I was informed that I had a cancerous melanoma on the back of my left calf. A few weeks before that, at Milwaukee's yearly tattoo convention, I looked down at the back of my leg, where I have a tattoo of an owl, and noticed a spot in one of the owl's eyes that didn't look right. The skin looked shiny, and the edges of the area weren't even whatsoever. It was a spot I knew hadn't always been there, so I checked out a photo from when the tattoo was fresh, and of course, the spot was not there in the photo.

(On the left is a photo of the fresh tattoo, and on the right is an awkward photo of the spot I found - the only photo that exists). 

Growing up, my mother took me to the dermatologist several times to have moles removed, so I figured this was going to be no big deal. I made an appointment with a local dermatologist (after calling about four), went in for a biopsy, and waited to get my results. The doctor said that it didn't look good to him, but I tried not to think about it and tried to have a positive attitude about the whole thing. Went to work each day and didn't think much about it, to be honest.

On the afternoon of October 10th, I ran to a thrift store after work to buy a stupid Rod Stewart t-shirt I'd seen there that past weekend. My phone rang, and it was the dermatologists' office. They told me I needed to get to the office immediately, but couldn't tell me why. Until I pressured the nurse to tell me what she was calling me to tell me, which was my worst fear - that the biopsy had come back positive for melanoma.

Let me tell you one thing: nobody wants to get a phone call finding out that they have cancer, and I absolutely would not wish that feeling upon my worst enemy. I was diagnosed with a Stage I Melanoma, which meant that the melanoma itself was less than two inches thick. Thankfully, due to that, I would not need radiation or other cancer treatment, just surgery.

(Left is the faxed report of the dermatology findings of UCSF, and to the right is one of the in-shock e-mails I sent to one of my bosses)


I made the normal phone calls - to my dad and my bosses, and I honestly believe that I was in shock when the calls were made. I tried to act like it was no big deal and like it didn't bother me, until I broke down on the phone with my father about how terrified I was to recover alone. It was decided then that I would stay at their house in Green Bay to recover, just to make it easy on everyone.

Going into the office, I found out just what the surgery would take, and it was somewhat simple - they would need to excise an inch of skin around the spot itself, including the spot, in order to verify they got all of it. This wouldn't be a huge deal, spare the fact that I would lose a huge piece of the tattoo I had on my leg. At first, it sucked to realize that I had spent money on a piece I wouldn't get to enjoy at its' fullest forever, but at the same time I knew that it would serve as a reminder of what could have happened if I would not have been as observant as I was. The fact that I looked down at my leg that day and realized that something wasn't right is something I still don't know reasons behind, but that I am very thankful for. In the photo to the right, you can see the spot (in the eyeball), and the inch margin around where it needed to be removed, as well as the football shape so they could put my leg back together. Thinking about that kind of surgery was honestly terrifying. I had no idea what would happen, and I knew I had to try and spin it the best way I knew how - so that's precisely what I did.

The guys at work were helpful in keeping my spirits high when I was at my lowest. I got so many texted jokes and little notes left in my office, that it made me feel special, and like they cared. Lord knew I needed it.

Surgery day came and went, and all I had to do was take care of my incision and all of the crazy bruises that went with it. Being babied by my parents at 25 years of age felt a little bit ridiculous, but I knew they meant the best. I was only out of work for around a week (I don't know that I could have taken anymore), and since then, I've been given a clean bill of health.

For two years after being diagnosed with melanoma, I will have to go to the dermatologist every three months to have a full body skin scan, and after the first two years it would go to six months, and then a year. Once you've had one melanoma, your chances of getting more increase exponentially. In my first appointment post-operation, I had a second spot looked at, that - thankfully - showed no abnormalities.



All I have to show for my experience is a dent in my leg, a scar, and a story. A story that I hope will help others to not have to endure the same things I did. What I can tell you is very simple:

• Even if you have tattoos, check your skin for any differences. Moles and melanomas can pop up out of nowhere, and just because you have a tattoo doesn't mean you're exempt whatsoever. I sure wasn't. 
• If you see a spot that worries you, GO TO A DOCTOR. Don't wait and sweep it under the rug. Early detection is the best way to get the best results. 
• Don't keep the news to yourself if it is something negative. Talk to friends and family, and make sure everyone understands where you're at and what's at stake. It's important for people to have your back, especially in the worst situations. 

One thing that many people ask me is, "Liz, what are you going to do with the tattoo?" And you know, I've thought about getting it covered up, or seeing if it could be salvaged - but at the same time, having that constant reminder of what could have been, and how lucky I am, are more valuable to me than that perfect tattoo. 

Read my interview on The Stifled Artist!

Recently, I did an interview for an article in Bound By Ink magazine, but was also interviewed for a blog special on Krysten Bean's blog, The Stifled Artist. It was just posted last night, so feel free to read it here. If you've been directed to my blog because of the article, welcome! I hope to post more often soon, for more of a look into my crazy little life.