Upholstery 101- A Scary Tale

Warning: this post has graphic and gross images that might give you the heebeegeebees

Yikes!  I did something out of "self-taught" character, I signed up for an actual class!
After years of attendance to the University of Google, I decided to get some hands on experience in the field of upholstery. Why?  In the past I have managed to figure out how to upholster many things, including a couch that looked like it came straight from the set of Boogie Nights.  With all these projects my impatience got the best of me and I would cut corners, like skipping the welting and zippers and other time consuming boring (IMO) tasks.  I just wanted to finish, and I didn't feel confident in those areas, so I just left them out.
Maybe I am growing up or something, but I finally want to do something the right way.  I enlisted in the Upholstery at the Eliot School in Boston (and I dragged my Mom along with me).  It is a 10 week program that teaches you how to reupholster, and you bring in a piece to work on.  I also figured it would give me some good stuff to blog about.
I was all excited.
I've had this chair that I wanted to redo for a while now:
I found it on my neighbors curb and thought it had great lines, I even posted it way back when in a trash picking confessional.  This chair was finally going to have its day!
I brought it to class this week, and in the first class we got right to business.  We were given some pliers and flat screwdrivers and told to strip off the old upholstery, starting at the bottom and working up.  Once it was cleaned off we would be gluing any wobbly legs and such.
I did as I was told, and my first thought was "This is going to be a piece of cake! I should be gluing in an hour..."  I even had some extremely cocky thoughts like "How is this class going to take 10 weeks?  I finished a sofa in a day and a half?"   Curses.   Sometimes things are on the curb for a reason. I got the bottom fabric off and started pulling off the back. I was greeted with a very nasty discovery.  Mold, lots of mold.  I had the instructor come over and look, thinking he'd be just as horrified as me. I was wrong. "Totally salvageable, see it all the time".  It looked perfectly fine on the outside, but the vinyl had kept in plenty of moisture.
I kept going, and it only got worse.   I wanted to cry. I wanted to put my chair back on the curb.  The freaking chair was alive! It looked like it had its own network of veins and nerves.. see?  I wanted a respirator and some gloves!!!!
(we were told to only bring 2 drop cloths and the piece of furniture to the first class) I had to touch the thing!   See the horror in my eyes?  I was so glad I wore turtleneck and my glasses: "It can totally be saved!" is what I was being told.  I just wanted to quit. I was not making any friends in this class with my cootie chair.   Even my mother next to me was inching away from me.   She was lucky, just horsehair and cotton in her chair:
Lets just say I didn't do any gluing. Instead I had to take my chair back home wrapped in a trash bag to "de-mold" it with bleach and Murphy's Oil.   ( I think I scrubbed part of my skin off after that class.) The chair still sits in the bag outside. I haven't worked up the nerve to open it up.   I have actually been trying to find a different chair to strip down and bring back to the next class.   I just can't believe that that nasty thing can actually be saved. 
I will keep you posted and let you know what I do. Part of me wants to just throw in the towel, while the stubborn part wants to prove that it really can be saved.  What should I do?  Do you guys want to see me save it or do I just move on?  I promise to document either way.
Regardless, I am bring a mask and some gloves to the next class  AND I went and got a tetanus shot the following day.