Disappearing tattoos - June Wilkerson

National Catholic Reporter, April 27, 2001 by Arthur Jones

From Guatemala Wilkerson shifted to work with the Sanctuary Movement in the early 1980s at Little Flower Parish in South Bend, Ind., a major church in the underground movement sheltering Central American refugees fleeing persecution and violence.

"I had a lawyer, Wendell Walsh, on my peace and justice committee and he gave talks, homilies almost, explaining why someone who was a lawyer would get into this kind of work," she said. "We sponsored three or four people."

Wilkerson called the Indiana state authorities and told them the parish intended to harbor the illegal refugees and defend them. "The guy who answered the phone said, `Oh no, we just can't deal with that.' So we were never bothered," she said.

In 1989 Wilkerson went down to Bolivia and became involved in political issues, but that ended when she broke her leg in a motorcycle accident and was shipped back to the States. Next came California. "I was on crutches, I was 65 years old, but the Parish Nurse Program out of Providence Holy Cross Hospital here hired me. I like putting things together. I did staff support, staff education." The hospital had tapped into the Parish Nurse Program, now nationwide, that was founded in Chicago by a Lutheran minister, the Rev. Granger Westburg.

Anti-violence work

Wilkerson met with pastors, helped set up parish nurse visits and, while operating out of Queen of Angels Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital, volunteered for the hospital's violence prevention coalition in the San Fernando Valley. The valley has its share of violence. If the area, currently part of Los Angeles, were a separate city -- which it's pressing for -- it would be the nation's seventh largest city. Gang-related violence is a constant source of trauma patients at Providence Holy Cross, which operates one of the valley's two trauma centers.

Through the anti-violence coalition, Wilkerson met Sgt. Belinda Robinson of the Los Angeles Police Department. One day she told Wilkerson that she saw a great need for a tattoo removal clinic. Such a clinic, she said, would be one way of reducing violence.

With Wilkerson at the helm, the hospital set up a committee. The program is now in its third year. Queen of Angels Hollywood Presbyterian liked what Providence Holy Cross was doing and now it has a tattoo removal clinic, too.

Money is a major factor in tattoo removal.

Commercial tattoo removers typically charge $250 a treatment to work on a small tattoo, which means up to a $1,000 or more before the vein-blue skin picture disappears. For a huge tattoo -- and Marc Hoffman is covered neck to navel and all the way down his back -- it has been two years so far and another four years to go.

Hiring the laser machine and its technician, Freddie, takes money. The hospital gave $25,000 to start and the Providence Health System gave $ 75,000 last year. This has been followed by a three-year $300,000 grant from the California Endowment Foundation, which manages the monies Blue Cross-Blue Shield put in public trust when Blue Cross changed into a for-profit corporation.