A Tattoo For My Grandmother

When I was 8 years old, I painted a set of Matryoshka Dolls for my grandmother. I don't know how or why I ended up with them in the first place, but I decided I wanted to paint them for my grandmother. As you can see from the picture, they were painted as well as you would expect for an 8-year-old with no artistic inclination. But she loved them. They were so special to her, and they always took pride of place on her mantelpiece in her living room.

I always knew I wanted to get a tattoo in honour of my grandmother. Of all my family members, we were the two that seemed to understand each other the most - our brains worked in all the same kinds of weird and wonderful ways, and we always seemed to be on the same wavelength. I loved the idea of getting a permanent reminder of her on my skin.

On the 8th December 2017, at the age of 74, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had hidden it from family for quite a few months because she was the type of person who didn't like to cause a fuss, and she also hated going to see the doctor or going to a hospital - I'm sure that's where I get it from, too.

It was determined that the cancer was fairly aggressive, but it hadn't spread and so she could have a mastectomy, and then she would be able to undergo radiotherapy on the affected area. At first, she didn't want an operation, and when I asked her why, she said she didn't want to take the chance of an operation away from someone younger who had their whole life to live, and that she was also scared that something was going to go wrong, and that she would die on the operating table. For a few months after, her opinion didn't change, no matter how many doctors appointments we attended.

I got the tattoo as a surprise. I had the appointment booked for the 10th February 2018, and I had it done by the most amazing tattoo artist called Ally at Blood & Honey in Cheltenham. After seeing her designs, I knew I wanted her to do it for me. I got it done as soon as an appointment became available because by that point, as a family, we had almost accepted the fact that my grandmother wasn't going to have an operation, and I wanted her to have a chance to see the tattoo tribute. Ally did an incredible job and absolutely exceeded my expectations - I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful tattoo to represent such a special woman in my life.

I chose a Matryoshka Doll because the dolls are said to represent family and motherhood, and my grandmother, mother and I have always been incredibly close-knit, and since I'd decorated these dolls for my grandmother over a decade earlier, it just seemed like the perfect tribute.

When I came back home to Bristol the weekend after I had the tattoo done, I went to visit my grandmother and I showed it to her. I was really nervous to begin with. Up until that point, I had been confident in my decision to choose that to represent her and our relationship, but the second I was standing in front of her, I thought to myself: oh my god, what if she actually doesn't like it?

But of course, she loved it. She was so shocked to know I'd gotten a tattoo for her, and she was really touched. She couldn't believe the amount of detail and the accuracy, and she thought the doll's face was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. She even said she wanted to get a matching one.

Over the course of the next few months, her breast cancer got worse. It reached a critical point at the end of August of 2018 where an operation was her best and only chance of survival, and no medication could control it. The doctors gave her some time to think about it, and we were sitting in the hospital waiting room. Up until this point, I had done my best to respect her wishes and to accept what she wanted to do, but I knew this was my last chance to save her, and I knew it was time for me to protect her in the way she'd protected me throughout my life.

I looked at her and said "I have never ever put you in danger, and I promise you, I wouldn't ask you to get this operation if I thought it would result in your losing your life. I'm too selfish for that. You are in more danger by not having the operation than you would be to have it, and you'll have a second chance if they remove it."

That was the day she decided to have the operation.

Six days later, we were in the hospital, and she faced her fears and had a mastectomy. And just twenty-four hours after that, she was allowed home. I stayed with her every day for the first two weeks, measuring her fluid levels, cooking, cleaning, making sure she was taking all of the right medications.

The medications made her drowsy, and one day while she was napping, I found myself watching her sleep. She'd always been my hero, but I was never so sure about it than I was in that moment. The strength and bravery she'd shown was nothing shy of admirable.

Fast-forward to now, the 6th September 2020, it has been three months without her. She sadly lost her life to a 2nd battle with cancer back in May this year, during the height of the Covid-19 Pandemic. Her breast cancer had returned, but she also had cancers that had advanced in other areas of her body. She spent a lot of time in hospital during her final weeks and she fought hard through such unprecedented times, and she agreed to various surgeries in hospital and took everything in her stride.

She died at home with family, and we are so thankful to have been able to say our goodbyes - we know that not everyone has been so fortunate in the last couple of months. Towards the end, she couldn't speak, but she could hear us, and I told her I'd look after the set of dolls I'd painted for her all those years ago. To us, they represented our entire relationship, and I know she'd be glad that I have them on the shelf in my bedroom now.

When I got the tattoo, my grandmother was honoured that I chose to have permanent ink on my skin for her, but I am honoured to have had someone so special to me that I wanted to get a tribute for.

I look at that beautiful Matryoshka Doll every single day and I think of the incredible woman behind it, and through all the hurt, it never fails to make me smile.