I am in the process of adorning everyone within a 500 mile radius with a scarf. I sometimes scare myself as I am fast becoming a knit happy crazy cat lady. I see my Golden Years spent in a rocking chair on the porch surrounded by my 23 cats. (I presently have two.) My knitting needles will click together as I hum to myself. A length of scarf will begin on my lap and then travel out into the world; one row at a time. Down the steps, through the front gate and down the block it will grow until it is completely out of sight. As I rock slowly back and forth-knit, purl, knit, purl...I will speak to the birds. "Good morning Mr. Blue jay. Why, yes, it is a lovely day isn't it?!?"I have found that knitting is perfect for feeling productive-even in front of the television set. (I'm guilty!) It's a very satisfying pastime which stills a restless mind. An instant antidote for aimlessness & boredom. In fact, that is one of the main reasons I felt compelled to try my hand at it. (And I like neck warmers.)
A couple of days after returning home from the hospital following major surgery I began to crawl the walls of my mind. I had just undergone a spinal fusion-my first, and I hope only, experience with hospitalization. I had a fabulous German roommate who had undergone knee surgery. It was BIG excitement in our room when one of us walked! We were a comfort to one another; mutually inspiring the necessary endurance to make it through. There was so much distraction at the hospital that the time actually passed really quickly...every 30 minutes someone was coming in to monitor something or another.
I had NEVER felt true helplessness before this experience. I fancy myself an incredibly independent person (to a fault sometimes) and I couldn't even turn over in bed without two nurses helping. It was such a strange limbo lying there unable to sleep...unable to reach for the magazine on the table behind me...unable to move at all without sending blinding pain through every cell in my body. It scared me...
Back home I found myself confined to my living room (mostly) without the ability to do anything other than sit in a pillow lined chair. I believe that I mentally cataloged each and every dust bunny and cobweb as I sat there. It was so much easier to cope while in the hospital-at least there I was removed from all of the daily things around me that I wanted or needed to do. I was too medicated to read...high as a kite around the clock. Percoset followed by Flexeril followed by MORHPINE. (Now, I'll admit to a little illicit dabbling in my youth but now I am a person who doesn't like to take an Advil tablet unless it's absolutely necessary.) I'm not sure what made me snap but, I beseeched my partner in crime to drive me to Joann Fabrics to buy an instructional knitting book and yarn. This was no simple feat as it involved the complete modification of my vehicle with pillows and a great deal of willpower. The long stretch between my chair in the living room and my awaiting freedom was made quite burdensome by the inconvenience of a walker on gravel. (Unfortunately, I didn't use my walker long enough to justify tricking it out with tassels and tennis balls on the legs.) We got me in and seat belted, secured the walker in the bed of the truck and set off-an unlicensed driver at the wheel. I believe that Zeke did his best to avoid the most jarring pot holes and take the smoothest turns-I don't remember the drive. I was in the grip of teeth clenching-star seeing pain. Thank you, My Dear, for braving Joann Fabrics with a delirious mess!
That is how it all started. My first scarf was scrapped of course...the drugs were better suited for the amazing dreams that they brought nightly...
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