Mama says: Put A Hat On!

This is the story of how crochet came back into being a significant part of my life after a lengthy sojourn from that crafty pursuit.

In the winter of 2004 my father had a serious fall then through 2005-07 was very ill. With the fall he had broken his left hip, the side that already had an amputated leg, and while successfully rehabilitating with much physio with walkers and his usual ‘one-crutch’, he then suffered a number of strokes (or T.I.A.s) through the holidays resulting in pronounced Dementia (like Alzheimer memory loss) and paralysis on his left side then making him fully wheelchair bound.

I was spending alot of time in hospital at his bedside and I found myself looking for things, activities, that were portable and worked in those sometimes cramped and sterile environments as pleasant distractions and pastimes. I immediately turned to reading HUGE quantities of fiction. I could easily read 500-700 pages in a day so ‘voracious’ was an applicable term.

I was running out of space to store all my brilliant second-hand book purchases so I needed to once again redirect my energies to something a bit more functional and sustainable.

I had been working closely with a gallery in North Vancouver that featured local artisans and came across a wonderful hand-knit hat. It was kinda funky with splashes of brown and black but it’s best feature was that it totally accommodated my head full of braids (most regular hats were too snug a fit). I snapped up the hat as a nice little ‘me-time-treat’.

When I took it with me later on my daily hospital visit to my father- I was blessed for the curtain of his dementia to have temporarily lifted and my Dad reminded me of a time when I used to ‘crochet like crazy even your doll clothes’. Well, how could I not take up that unspoken challenge and try my hand and crocheting once again.

I actually found that I still had my one and only childhood crochet hook, a metal 5mm, tucked away in my old sewing box. Then a quick trip to the store for a ball of acrylic yarn (moss green) and I was good-to-go.

I stared at the yarn and the hook for about three days trying to remember where to dive in, what to start, how to start what and what stitches to make. Finally I just launched in one night after work  (no-google search to guide me) and started up what I could, how I could and undid and redid and undid and so on. Mostly doing one stitch after another until I was certain I was remembering it right. Those efforts throughout that night created a small purse-like pouch with a lacy motif that I finished off by chaining an adjustable strap.

I was impressed with ME- wow, I totally slew the dragon of uncertainty and had a nice little finished clutch-bag to show for it- Wow, yay me. I had earned a good night’s sleep.

When I woke up the next morning to head into work and get my ‘brag-on’ about my little crochet foray I notice that I wasn’t quite at my usually speed. I figured it was due to burning the late night oils to finish my grand little project but when I tried to get dressed (read -do up my bra) I could NOT flex my wrists. I had no strength in either of my wrists and my forearms THROBBED. I managed to get to the office but was struggling to type or hold a pen- this was insane. I had crocheted me up a little ‘carpal-tunnel‘ to go with my clutch-bag- and I was mortified!

I could not possibly own up to the fact that the deep tissue pain and inability to function normally was due to a CROCHET INJURY.

What kinda of hip lady artisan reject was I?

Who in their right mind got HURT at parlor CROCHET, not to be confused with Croquet which can in fact have very justifiable injuries (just ask the Cheshire cat).  This would just not do.

So once again, Dad to the rescue: ‘ just tell them the same as me…’

– and so…

I swear- I fell down some stairs.

(my father passed away in the spring of 2007 –

– I cherish his creative inspiration that brought me back to crochet… and my mother’s great support in buying/selling from my collection ever since 😉