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I hesitated to write about this. Focused as I was on protecting reputations.

But what happened has absolutely nothing to do with Rangi, who only drew on my body, nor with Phil who drew and inked my body in a careful, professional way.

There’s bacteria everywhere, including tons of bacteria on the skin. Even in the most-careful tattoo practices, sometimes infections occur. In all tattooing, no matter how sterile, no matter how much alcohol is used, some bacteria gets into the skin, during or after tattooing. It is inevitable. And the body, as with any scratch, mounts a defense.

Usually a successful defense.

But we were doing a large tattoo, and we put a lot of ink on my body in a very short period of time. Put a lot of ink on my 72-year-old body.

And for a while, my body mounted a defense to fend off the bacteria that inevitably get into the lines during and after inking.

My body did just fine, I was managing the pain of tattooing without a problem. I felt great, thought all was going really well. Ready each day for more ink.

But because of the extensive inking in a short period of time, my 72-year-old body eventually was overwhelmed, couldn’t quite keep up with the bacterial assault.

So what appeared as a very small infection—one small area of light pink, which Phil outlined and said I should see a doctor about—blew up overnight to include many of the tattooed lines on my body.

Medically, it was handled incredibly well here. Especially during my ten-hour adventure in the Emergency Department at Taranaki Base Hospital, where they admitted me overnight for iv infusions with high-dose flucloxacillin to jump start my response to the infection.

And the whole time I was there, working my way through their excellent triage system, I encountered extraordinary medical professionals.

And I remained completely calm the whole time, not a hint of anxiety, which in such an unfamiliar, chaotic environment—by myself, far away from home, a skin infection raging across my pelvis—would normally have had me pretty freaked out.

That was surprising and significant, in itself. It got my attention.

I’ve changed in many ways here in Taranaki during this tattoo journey.

I’ve finished my ten-day course of oral flucloxacillin, and the doctors said my body would mop up what’s left of the infection, which is now completely gone.

But, we couldn’t put any more ink on my body before the infection was over and I was stronger, which left not enough time before my departure on May 13 and my thirteen-hour flight home, sitting on my butt and lower back, which is all that remained to be inked.

So, Rangi and Phil drew those remaining design elements on my body on Saturday, May 6, so we could all have closure for this part of the journey, so I could see the completed design, and so Rangi could complete his artistic thought.

I plan to find a tattoo artist at home in Port Townsend to fill in the short pakati shading lines, slowly over time. So the part of the design that’s already inked on my body looks more complete.

And then I’ll return to Aotearoa in three or four months to have Phil draw and ink in the rest of the design on the back of my body, including the shading lines.

Seeing photographs of what Rangi planned, as well as looking at it on my body, gives me and Phil the opportunity to make some modifications to the design that I want.

And the moko will be finished in Aotearoa with all of the people who have been on this journey with me from the beginning—Rangi, Phil and Mark, and others here in Aotearoa who know my story, who know about the tattoo journey.

And all of you reading this blog.

The slight detour of the infection has not in the least diminished the power and joy of this experience for me.

In fact, it was just another part of it. Bringing its own lessons and revelations.

Part of the whole magical process.

Part of the journey.

Part of the transformation.