I'm seriously thinking about getting my first tattoo.
The last couple of weeks, a good buddy's in-laws had been just a little too cute, about hiding the Living Will that my buddy's father in-law had written up years ago.
In black and white, it stated that he did NOT want to be put on a respirator. The man had health problems for decades, and knew what he was doing when he signed that document in front of a notary. He then told everyone in his family about it. Still, one of his children who could not deal with it bullied my buddy's mother-in-law into withholding the testiment from his healthcare providers. The advance health care directive was only honored after the other siblings (and my buddy, who was persona non grata for his troubles for a while) raised their collective voices that it be brought forth, just as the doctors were about to put a trachial tube into the poor guy.
The old gentleman passed away, at last, the way he had specified.
This morning, while doing my best to keep up 120 compressions a minute on the chest of a person at whom's side I had arrived just 60 seconds after hearing the call for the ambulance go out, I wondered: how long it had taken the family to call for an ambulance, and how fast was the dispatch? I did the best that I knew how, and passed the patient on to fully-equipped paramedics, and I thought about Ambulance Driver's T-shirt.
How small could I get that, tattooed on my chest, and still have it be legible?