This is an experience I've avoided writing for a while. I like to think of piercing as a positive thing, something that enhances one's life. It angers me when someone describes my piercings as something done for "shock value" or to rebel. Though they may shock someone, and they may set me apart from the sheep of the world, they are done for my own reasons. That is why I am determined to share this experience with others. Though I realize that hearing about what I went through and how I felt throughout the whole thing may be discouraging to those who want a similar piercing, I think it is important that I not shelter anyone from the possibilities.
At A Glance Author Wilted Seed Contact Wilted Seed@bme.anon IAM Wilted Seed When A week ago Artist Prefer not to say Studio Prefer not to say Location Missoula, MT The first mistake I made was failing to ask a simple question of my trusted piercer; "Have you done a medusa before?" I do not know how I let such an oversight occur. I guess I was just so used to this shop, and knew that it was a safe place to get pierced. It wasn't until just before the procedure that my piercer mentioned she hadn't done a medusa before. By that time I was so ready for the piercing and confident that everything would turn out okay, as it eventually had with my other piercings.
Having been briefed on the procedure, I went about preparing myself. I rinsed my mouth with the oral antiseptic they gave me, took a couple deep breaths and sat down in the piercing chair. My piercer and I fiddled with the placement for a few minutes until we were both happy with it. She swabbed my upper lip with disinfectant, and we were ready to go.
She pushed the needle through my flesh, and I felt a blinding wave of pain. It hurt; fuck, it hurt so much. I am not a crybaby when it comes to pain. I pierced my nipple myself; I endured the pain. I am telling you that this was the worst thing I have ever felt in my life; three times what the nipple was, maybe more.
At this point, I thought the worst was over. I felt the adrenalin kick in and I forced myself to stay completely still while she put the jewelry in. She kept on asking if I was okay, and I tried to make reassuring noises deep in my throat while the needle was still in my upper lip.
My eyes were closed the whole time, so it was all the more frightening for me when my piercer said "Oh, shit!" I tried not to freak out. I asked what was going on, being careful not to disturb what I later found out was a taper pressing into my bottom lip. She tried to reassure me, telling me that it was ok and she would explain in a minute. I tasted blood; lots of it.
She called out to the other room, yelling for someone to "Close the door, now!" That concerned me more than the blood; I knew that there were only employees in the lobby; no other customers. What could have gone so wrong with the piercing that professionals couldn't take it?
I heard the sound of metal against a hard surface. She tried to explain as she hurried about the room, fetching supplies, but by now I was too agitated to understand. It was not until later that I found out what happened.
She had inserted the jewelry with a taper. It was internally threaded, so it screwed right on to the taper. The problem was that after she removed the taper, she could not find the end of the jewelry. She had thought it was only part of the way through my lip, but it turned out to not be in my lip at all. As she had unfastened the taper, instead of the bar being unscrewed from the taper, it was unscrewed from the ball. I was sitting there, pretty much gushing blood from an open wound. The ball was just sitting on top of my lip. The metallic noise I heard? It was the ball rolling of my lip and hitting the floor.
It wasn't long before she had been able to get the taper in the hole and save the piercing. She was running around the room, telling me that she needed to get another ball to screw on it. I was concerned about how sanitary it would be; I knew there weren't any autoclaved. I asked her about it, and she assured me that she was cleaning it with various disinfecting and sanitizing agents. (I can't remember all the names.) I offered to sit there while she autoclaved it, but she assured me again that it was safe. She said she wouldn't do it if it wasn't.
In the end, I had a perfectly placed medusa piercing and a freshly cleaned face. The bleeding had stopped, and I had time to get a hold on the situation. It turned out that one of the girls at the counter was a little (okay, a LOT) bloodshy. Thus the closed door.
The piercing is healing well. I care for it with both half-listerine, half-water rinses and salt soaks. I do not regret getting it done; it looks spectacular and I love the feel of it. I just don't know if I can adequately communicate to you the sheer terror that possessed me when my eyes were closed and my piercer didn't know what was happening. I thought I might have a torn lip, have been mutilated in the name of piercing. I was worried that I would bleed out on the floor. I wondered what I had done that could've caused it. Had I had a drink and forgotten? In a word, it was panic. My piercer kept calm, though, considering she didn't know where the jewelry was, and it turned out fine in the end.
I've been told that human beings aren't capable of remembering pain, that it's a defense mechanism so woman aren't afraid to give birth. I can't remember the pain itself, but I hope I will always remember the lesson it taught me. When you want a piercing enough, you endure the pain, but it's stupid to get it done in less than completely safe or sanitary conditions. Happy piercing, everybody.