My second professionally done piercing, my industrial, I think is possessed.
At A Glance Author Eri Contact Eri@bme.anon IAM StrawberrySwitchblade When N/A Artist Tom and Me Studio Flesh Mechanics It started some time ago, perhaps three months ago, when I finally got the balls to get my industrial done. I loved the look of it and it would fit my head perfectly. I picked out Flesh Mechanics, a place I had originally gone to for my nose piercing (see my IAM page for reference). I had become disenchanted with my former studio, and I figured I'd give Flesh Mechanics another try.
So my boyfriend, Matt, picked me up and we went down. I had removed my restrictive clothing (read: steal-boned corset) and armed myself with juice boxes in case I got faint, because my blood sugar has been known to plummet at the slightest provocation. I walked in, and was greeted by Tom, the guy who should have pierced my nose. I just hoped to God he didn't remember me, because I knew I was being a bitch that night.
I was in line, because the chick ahead of me was getting her nostril pierced--with a screw! I couldn't believe it. I watched as she was skewered, and she left. Tom explained upon my asking that he was losing a lot of business to other studios because they were willing to pierce with screws and he only used cbr's. He explained that my fit that night helped him make the decisions to pierce with screws. I kind of giggled and laughed off that he remembered me, and explained I was here for the industrial. He said it would be fifty dollars, to sign the release, show him my ID, and said he could do it, just give him time to autoclave his stuff and he'd be out.
After a little bit, he came out, donning gloves, carrying a dental tray with two needles in autoclave bags, a cork, jewelry in it's own autoclave backs, and a chunk of q-tips. He called me around, and Matt followed for support. I sat in the little chair on the other side of the bar-partition (Flesh Mechanics is a spectator studio!) and he started to talk me through it. He marked me and told me to take off my glasses. He then showed me the autoclave bags (I had to get really close to see properly) to show me the sterilization dots. He slightly frightened Matt by removing the jewelry from his inch plus lobes. I think I talked a bit too much, but I was nervous. Then we got down to business. He almost pierced me before I confirmed the placement, but I stopped him, checked it out, and said go ahead.
Let it be known I prefer to be perfectly still and silent during a piercing.
"Sonovabitch..." was all I could mutter. I didn't direct it at him, I hope he knows, but the sensation was interesting. The pain wasn't horrible as I had expected, but it didn't tickle. The popping of the cartilage was something novel. Jewelry insertion hurt. I guess I started to quiver, because Tom said, "I'm so sorry, honey. Please hold still. I'm almost done." He screwed the balls on, cleaned me up, gave me a packet of bacitracin and an aftercare sheet, explained it all to me, and sent me on my way. I decided against using the bacitracin and tested various methods of cleaning my new baby. Alas, it was not to be.
Swelling. The swelling was immense. The jewelry was only an inch long between ends, and the swelling immediately backed up against the balls. The pain was horrible. I iced it and took ibuprofen, hoping against hope the swelling would recede. I went back and had the tattoo guy look at my ear, and he suggested taking it out. Tom called and suggested I take it out. I tried replacing the bar with two circular barbells, but both holes rejected and I took it out.
I was determined though.
Now, never DIY. Only a qualified piercer should do your piercing, and you are not in the third person, and it makes it hard, not to mention the risk of infection and bad procedure. I don't condone it.
I ordered five 14g needles, two corks, and a PTFE barbell at two inches from two suppliers. When they arrived, I chilled for a while, letting my ear fully heal before giving it another go.
One morning, I woke up, and felt like I had to do it then. I gathered my things and set them out. I bleached the room from head to toe. I got my nitrile gloves (in friendly, happy purple to relax the nerves) and cut my barbell to an appropriate length. I threaded the ends with a steel ball and marked myself. It was going to go just below the original piercing. I unpackaged my individual needles and set everything out, along with glucose tablets for faintness.
I started on the upper part of my ear first. Now or never. One push and it was through, followed by a huge rush. I felt warmth and looked in the mirror. I was bleeding like mad. I mopped it up with a paper towel and inserted the first part of the jewelry. Changed my gloves for everything I touched. The second hole present itself to be a challenge, because my hands were in the way. I managed to get the needle in, when I realized it was crooked beyond belief. I withdrew the needle, with started another blood rush. I soaked a paper towel with it. After the bleeding stopped, I tried again, this time with perfection. I threaded the jewelry through the second hole and screwed the acrylic end on. I cleaned myself up, corked my needles, and popped some glucose tablets. I felt accomplished.
About fifteen minutes after I finished, I got the news that my long-ill grandmother passed away an hour before, about ten minutes before I started on my ear. I've since dedicated the piercing to her.
It's healing nicely with some scarring, as expected. Sea salt soaks do wonderfully. It's not acting up, and the swelling flared and went without event. I kept the original barbell as a souvenir, and I still recommend Flesh Mechanics, as I plan to go back there for my tattoo. Tom is a good piercer, very friendly, and the shop is sterile. I still don't condone self-piercing. I highly recommend the industrial.
In memory of Norma Jean Helisek.