When I was working in Estate Jewelry, we had a bench jeweler, David, on the premises.
He had a set up, kind of like the glass blowers have at Disneyland. He worked in a veritable fishbowl. There he sat, in a glass enclosed booth at the front of the store, working his alchemy with his torch and tools.
When people would drop off their repairs, especially a badly damaged engagement ring, David would put his other jobs aside and get to work. The woman would then press her nose against the glass to watch. I would walk over, put my arm around her shoulder and gently shepherd her away.
“Oh, you don’t want to watch this.” I’d whisper. “Go get a coffee and come back in an hour or so. Better yet, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
She’d kinda look at me funny, wondering if I was serious, and then, when she saw the look on my face, she’d hand me her number, grab her purse and go.
I knew that while she was gone, all hell was going to break loose on that bench.
I was being kind. I was sparing her the horror that watching the process would undoubtedly cause her. I also didn’t want to pick tiny pieces of broken glass out of David’s hair, after she jumped through the window to strangle him.
What I knew, from years of observation was this: During the process of fixing, rebuilding and restoring the ring to its former glory, it was going to get ugly. And by ugly, I mean the catastrophic results of the biggest shit storm you’ve ever seen. There would be broken bits and diamonds scattered everywhere, as he deconstructed it. At a certain point it wouldn’t even resemble anything close to a ring. It would look like a pile of platinum scrap with some shiny bits. It used to horrify me, in the beginning, when I would walk over to check on the progress of a repair. I’d gasp and stop dead in my tracks with my hand over my mouth and tears in my eyes.
And I was a jeweler.
No one should have to watch that kind of carnage. It’s cruel.
I wanted to save clients THAT experience.
David explained that in order to build it stronger, he had to tear it down and basically start over. Not just anyone could get away with that. He was a sorcerer, my Merlin, he preformed feats of incredible alchemy and he was a master at antique jewelry restoration. When I eventually handed the ring back to the client, it looked good as new, actually….better.
No civilian is allowed to watch a surgery, that is reserved for other doctors, and the reason is the same. During the “putting you back together” portion of the procedure, there are blood and guts all over the place. It doesn’t look like the patient could possibly live.
It appears that there are too many guts OUT of the body, to go back IN the body. Too much blood loss to survive. We would puke, and then faint in our own puke; so they save us the stress and humiliation and hand us back a cleaned up, sewed up, repaired, person…… Better than new.
I was having lunch today with a friend, and I told her I feel as if lately, I’m at the jewelers bench or on operating table, and I’m watching the carnage of the rebuilding of my life. It’s in the ugly stage of reconstruction, with bits lying everywhere. It looks NOTHING like my former life. And I’m not being a pro about it today.
I’m the novice, gasping with my hand over my mouth and tears in my eyes, in complete terror.
I know better.
I would tell YOU to avert your eyes.
I need to look away.
It seems like a shit pile right now, but it will be good as new soon……..probably better.
I AM a pro and experience is on my side.
*What happens if you have something left over after you put all the guts back into someone? Is it like the two extra screws that remain behind, and don’t seem to belong anywhere?
Just wondering…….carry on.
Xox
