Let’s define important terms at the outset. We are talking about the side ring in the nose (no, even after five months I have no idea what it should be called). I also want to emphasize that the human body is very individual. Yours might heal in two weeks, but … well, I wasn’t that lucky. So, just in case:
CW: this article may change your mind about piercing
I was just looking for an initial date when I was actually stabbed. It was August 16th. Now we have the beginning of February and it still hurts. But let’s take it according to order.
As I indicated, the first disappointment came right after the ‘intervention’. Before you can wear a ring, you have to exist with the so-called pin for two weeks minimally. At least I’m done, I thought naively, I can look weird for two weeks. An important note: these pins don’t come with a latch, or whatever you call it, you know, with that mini nonsense that hold them inside.
There was no greater despair in the world than when the thing first fell out of my nose. The fresh wound immediately withdrew, so I thought I would never push anything into it again. Two people were helping me and in the end, it was me who with tears and blood running down my face, stuck a mallet back.
After this traumatic experience, I woke up every morning with a terrible premonition that I’m going to be looking for this new component of mine across the whole bed. It really happened a few times, but the worst moment was yet to come.
About a week after the stabbing, my family and I went for an extended weekend to an unnamed resort. I woke up on Saturday and went to wash my teeth classically… you probably have an idea where I’m going with this. When I leaned over the sink to spit out the foamy water, altogether with it, I lost my pin with it forever. Yea… it fell into the drain. If I was at home, I could call some friend with piercings and ask her for a suitable tool. But what do you do in Orava, where they don’t even hear about goldsmiths, and if they do, it’s weekend and they only have four kinds of rings in it? I did the only thing I had left – I desperately searched our luggage, looking for something at least a little convenient. In the end, I used an earring that I once bought for my sister in Prague. The moment I suddenly walked around the room with a dog’s paw hanging from my nose, real troubles began.
Right after our stay, I was looking for something more suitable. I went back to the studio, which followed with the information that I should wait at least a month for the ring. I felt pretty annoyed from this moment on. So I walked the world with various bits in my nose. With anything straight, until my nerves finally broke and I bought a ring. It doesn’t matter anymore, I thought, and I called my uncle for help.
It hurt so, so much, when he started placing the ring inside. It was a piercing and was intended for the nose; it was the only size they had, and at the time I didn’t even think there were thinner ones. So after about two hours… I threw myself shakingly around his neck and kicked a glass of apple whiskey down my throat.
Poor uncle suffered with me for a long time… because this first piece was too big. It didn’t look good at all and it obviously wasn’t my size. I waited for the poor skin to heal at least a bit, and then we were stuffing smaller ones (I emphasize smaller, not thinner). This cycle was repeated more times than would be humanly.
The case when he managed a nice, decorative piece… but before he clicked it, I asked for a few seconds to exhale and during those seconds IT FELL OF … the case is worth mentioning.
What else happened… once I was piercing my nose with a mask under my chin in the shopping centre. For a few times, the ring entered the wound surprisingly smoothly and I felt like the happiest person under the sun. And once the uncle gave up and left me with an empty hole. So I sent a few voice messages full of crying and shouting to my friends. I began to come to terms with the fact that, after all this, my wound would eventually grow. Suddenly, however, an idea came with ice, which miraculously acted as an anaesthetic.
I lasted a long time with this ring, and part of me thought it would be the last one… but it still didn’t seem perfect to me.
Right now, I am wearing a !thinner! a bit from faraway America, since in Slovakia, it seems, my size is not even produced. At this point, I should return to a woman who pierced me… and apparently did it at the place where her eyes fell.
So here goes my piercing story… and it wasn’t even a big dream I’ve always wanted to come true. I probably expected that it would be more like a tattoo that you stop perceiving after a week. But it’s nice, it’s very nice and my bad luck was that misfortunes were packing up for me, so don’t be discouraged. I would rather point out that you choose a capable stud (supposedly these things should be pierced, not shot) and find out what size would suit you. Maybe you even choose a ring in advance and let someone pierce you in a way so that it then sits.
If it does heal badly anyway… then go to the pharmacy to buy bottles of alcohol, hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic water, which will be your daily guides for the next few months.