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FOG Temp: 33 °F Wind: N at 0 mph Sunday, December 8, 2002 SECTIONS Home Page Local News Sports Business Obituaries Life Opinion - Politics AP News Weather Classified Archives Site Map EXTRA HomeLife Magazine W3 Magazine Jobs @ Mail Tribune Tempo A & E Oregon CarZone Wellness Connection Real Estate Newspaper in Education Prime Times Outdoor Journal Personals Movie Times TV Times E The People CLASSIFIEDS Find a Car Find a Home Find a Job Find Everything E SOUTHERN OREGON Automotive Communities Entertainment Publications Recreation Calendar ABOUT US FAQ What's New Advertise Home Delivery Classified Ad Contact Us Media Kit Email Story to a Friend November 11, 2002 Dr. Douglas Naversen and technician Kathy Winek-Pippin examine the progress in removing a tattoo from the back of Medford resident Henry Sullivan. Mail Tribune / Bob Pennell A clean start Tattoos symbolic of their failings are removed for those turning their lives around By BILL KETTLER Mail Tribune Henry Sullivan winces as the laser blasts the remnants of his troubled past off his back. "This hurts a lot more than it did when I got that tattoo," he says, as Kathy Winek-Pippin methodically traces her laser across the hateful letters on his hide. Years ago, friends etched SKINHEAD across Sullivan’s shoulders with a homemade tattoo gun and inked a crude swastika into his back. The 31-year-old Medford man put that part of his life behind him years ago, but the tattoos remained. These days, he’s a faithful churchgoer with a wife and a job — a man who’d like to go shirtless once in a while without hearing people whisper about his tattoos when he walks past. "That’s not who I am now," he says. Dr. Douglas Naversen is helping Sullivan shed his history. The Medford dermatologist removes anti-social tattoos in exchange for community service work. He started the tattoo-removal project to help people with offensive tattoos blend back into mainstream society. "It’s good to help people stop being a conversation piece in the community," he says. Naversen hit on the barter scheme because few people with offensive tattoos could afford to have them removed. The lasers themselves cost well into six figures, and annual maintenance costs can run over $10,000. By the time salaries, training costs and overhead are added in, Naversen figures each laser treatment costs about $325. Four treatments might make a crude amateur tattoo vanish, but a heavily-inked, professionally-applied design might require a dozen treatments to disappear. Naversen’s lasers focus light energy on the clumps of pigment buried in the skin without damaging surrounding tissues. The sudden burst of heat (nearly 300 degrees Celsius or almost 600 degrees Fahrenheit) from the laser light vaporizes the pigment into microscopic pieces that can be carried away by the body’s own garbage collectors — cells known as macrophages. "The laser’s kind of like a smart bomb," he says. "It only goes after a certain color ink. It vaporizes that ink, but it doesn’t do anything to the hair follicles or the oil glands or the skin." Patients typically work 32 hours before they can enter the program. Providence Medford Medical Center screens applicants and keeps track of the community service work through its Parish Nurse program. "These are people who are really trying to turn their lives around," says nurse Diane Roberts, Providence’s parish nurse coordinator. "We get lots of calls from people who have been in prison and want them off," she says. Roberts asks candidates to write about what prompted them to get tattooed and why they want them removed. "They say (a tattoo) is the only way you can stay alive in prison. You belong to one group, and they protect you from the other groups." A tattoo has to send an anti-social message or be offensive to qualify a person for the removal program, Roberts says. "If it’s just a rose or a heart we don’t take those off. "We get a lot of swastikas," she says, "and a lot of ‘white power’ and ‘white pride.’ " Some tattoos stand out in Naversen’s mind among the dozens he’s removed. "One lady had the F-word tattooed on her hand when she was 16," he says. "That was how she felt about the world then. Ten years later she wanted to get a job. "Another lady had married a weird guy who persuaded her to get a swastika tattooed on her neck. She was exceptionally self-conscious about it. She came into our office wearing a turtleneck one day when it was 103 degrees." Sullivan offers some advice for people who are considering a tattoo — whether it’s a statement of beliefs or a seemingly innocuous decoration. "Undoubtedly, you’ll regret it," he says. "I’ve never met anybody 30 years after they got their tattoo who said he was so happy that he had it. "I wouldn’t even tell people to think about it before they do it — just don’t." How to qualify A person must have a tattoo that is gang-related or anti-social which prevents them from finding employment or otherwise interferes with positive life changes. The tattooed person must show a desire to change his or her life. Active gang members are not eligible. Each applicant must be willing to perform community service work in exchange for the treatments. Thirty-two hours of service is required to enter the program. More hours may be required if the tattoo is especially difficult to remove. Applicants may choose from many different kinds of service opportunities. Some put in their time at animal shelters. Others work at food pantries or senior centers. Applicants must live in Jackson or Josephine county, or Siskiyou County, Calif. For more information, call 732-6257. Reach reporter Bill Kettler at 776-4492, or e-mail [email protected] Printer Friendly Version Email Story to a Friend Subscribe Archive: Click to Search Mail Tribune Home Local News | Sports | Business | Obituaries | Life Opinion - Politics | AP News | Archives | Site Map E Southern Oregon | Classified Copyright 1997-2002 Mail Tribune. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy webmaster feedback A D V E R T I S E R S