Ring Amputation
“Don’t do that again,” said the kind woman at Berman Jewelers in Cherry Hill, NJ after the male behind their counter cut off my
wedding and engagement rings. She added a story about someone who was
hospitalized and needed his ring removed right away. The hospital had to cut it
off. She ended the story with, “And your insurance won’t pay for that.”
Initially I had called two other jewelers about removing my
rings. They said they didn’t do that, and suggested the ER or a fire/rescue
company. Even though Berman didn’t promise they could remove my rings, they cautioned
me that a non-jeweler removing rings could ruin them. Maybe the first two
jewelers thought I had an emergency, but I really wish they also mentioned
Berman, or another local business that did removals.
I hadn’t taken off my rings since hubby slid them on 35
years ago. That was possible because they’re petite enough where they never got
in my way, needed cleaning or repair. But I felt foolish allowing the rings to
get stuck. Until Berman told me they remove about 2 to 3 rings from people a
week. At least I’m not the only too-sentimental ring wearer. Typically, school
rings are the most difficult to remove because of their size and the material
some are made from. While on the phone with them, Berman asked me if there was
room between my finger and the rings. Their tool needs to fit in there to cut
the metal. They suggested I come at 10am when they opened, before my finger had
time to swell.
My rings never bothered me. But, the flesh under them hadn’t
thickened while the rest of me gradually did. That’s why my left ring finger
looks deformed. The woman at Berman said my finger would heal, and to just give
it time. That’s a happy surprise. I was wondering how my re-sized rings would
fit, look and feel once hubby slipped them back on.
Mom had warned me to get them removed when I first realized
they wouldn’t come off. My plan was to lose weight. Yeah, right. The only result
was allowing more time for arthritis to set in.
In a week I’ll get back my rings. At first, I habitually reached
for them. The experience was something like a ‘ghost limb,’ where I felt myself
wearing the rings, but not when I squeezed where they used to be.
Two of my children are getting married. My beloved
engagement ring doesn’t compare in size to those gorgeous rings. Hubby asked if
I want a new one. I can’t bring myself to say, “I do.” I’m almost in tears
thinking of replacing a symbol that shows so clearly who we are and where we
came from. The woman jeweler knew almost exactly when hubby bought the rings,
and even quoted prices. She also knew they were sold as a trio, the second band
being the groom’s. I enjoyed talking with her and the male jeweler. They
treated my rings like they were as valuable as the others in their locked showcases.
Insurance isn’t paying for my rings or their removal, but
I’m glad I didn’t get in an extreme health situation in which my sentimental
rings added to an urgent situation.
