My husband tested positive on a TB blood test… which sounds dramatic until you learn it just means he has latent TB, is totally healthy, and now gets a few months of antibiotics so it never becomes active.
(Fun gothic, art, and humor below the cut)
Naturally, he has taken this information and immediately transformed into a 19th century poet about it.
He has said, verbatim:
“I’m simply going to outlive—insert famous historical figure who died of consumption—thank you.”
He also still has a quarter-sized scar from the original TB skin test because his immune system apparently loves to overreact for the aesthetic.
Anyway, as the supportive Victorian wife that I am, I made him this artwork.
Please enjoy our new family crest of melodramatic morbidity.