Knit-Wit

Free the Cripple

In 2016 I underwent a private surgery to bid adieu to the chronic nerve pain, and lower back pain that had haunted my life for far too long. My family and I were at our wits' end with hearing the word chronic, followed by the word pain. It was time to try a new avenue; one that was not offered by the cookie cutter approach of the Canadian healthcare system. It was time to stop using my no-gravity chair as a crutch, and to stop relying on everyone around me to pick up the thing that I had dropped on the floor (as much as I loved that). The possibility of being free from the imprisonment of back pain that I had grown familiar with was an absolute dream. Being a former rower, swimmer and twenty-three year old who had enjoyed movement, being active and being upright, I was beyond excited for the possibility of returning to the physical activities I loved.

The Loophole

I had already endured a back surgery three years prior, so I knew the drill. I needed to keep myself positive, and motivated; even if I hadn't pooped in ten days (and had to call 811 in tears about it). I had to be mentally sharp, and ready to face the depressive, nauseating, and constipating side effects of the medications prescribed to me. I knew I needed an activity to help me feel accomplished; even if I hadn't seen measurable improvements in my pain. I needed something to make me feel physically useful; even if I used a toilet seat with handlebars, or needed help taking steps no bigger than one inch each. I needed something I could do while laying vertical; a passion other than eating ice cream sundaes. Enter, knitting.

I discovered knitting a month before the private surgery, through my talent and affinity for finding things online to spend my hard earned Employment Insurance on. It was the perfect activity; I could do it from the comfort of my zero gravity chair, without straining or tensing up my spine, or legs. I had found a loophole in the sentenced months of patience and rest I had ahead of me; I could still produce and create something. I quickly discovered knitting kits that included patterns, wool skeins, and knitting needles. The only thing missing was Wherther's Original's. If I had to accept old age, I was at least going to do it in style. A few Youtube video's, and a lot of patience later, I had successfully "cast on" to a knitting needle. One stitch at a time, my attention was drawn away from the pins and needles in my bum, and towards the knitting needles in my hands.

In Stitches

My first project was a scarf. The pattern was simple, yet it pulled my focus from the aching in my low back to the thick merino wool looping around the knitting needles in front of me. The loops turned into a tangible, physical thing in front of my eyes. While I knitted in my no-gravity chair, I listened to my favorite comedian. There I lay, in stiches from laughing, pearling and knitting away. I had accomplished more than I had in months. For the first time in a while, I had created something that didn't worsen my pain, or involve a lot of Moose Tracks ice cream. The final product was flawed; but I was proud. I immediately found new projects, and was off to the races making blankets for everyone I knew.

The Knitty-Gritty Side Effects

The really cool part about taking up knitting that I didn't know, were the positive effects that it had on my health, that I couldn't necessarily see. The repetitive, rhythmic action was creating a relaxation response similar to what the body feels when meditating. At the time, this was huge. I was perpetually tense in response to sciatica and other charming muscle pains, in and around my back and legs. Additionally, each pattern I followed was breaking my regular train of thought. Each project I took on had interrupted the constant stream in my head of; "I wonder if I can ever move out of my parents house" or, "I wonder if this surgery will work". Not to mention, the activity of knitting has been proven by a British study to decrease the average persons' heart rate by 18.75%. The activity had not only kept me mentally sharp, but relaxed me, amidst the most physically taxing time in my life.

I'm Knot Scared

As the date of surgery approached, the blankets I knitted had piled up around me like walls of wool. Of course I was nervous about going under the knife, but now I knew that even in my current condition, I could create something other than a Lindsay-shaped imprint in my zero gravity chair. The knitting was calming my nerves, while simultaneously re-establishing my faith and trust in my body. While I had previously lost hope in my declining physical state, I had now proved to myself that my mental, and creative capacity could thrive; even when I was eating pain medication with every meal. My hope and dignity restored, I wheeled myself into the surgery with a grin on my face.

Stitched-Up

After being stitched-up, my post-op experience was a very vomit ridden, and humbling process. My stomach disagreed with most medications I was given; and my parents were at both of my sides, supporting my weight, each tiny step I took. Initially, I felt worse than I had before. Over the following weeks, however, I stopped all reliance on medication, and made increasingly impressive sized strides all the way to the end of my parents' driveway. The difference in my condition from before surgery was starting to become visible. In my slow transformation back into a regular functioning, upright human, I was astonished by my "new" back. It was like driving a new car. No stalls at intersections, no "check-engine" light eternally flashing. It was a smooth ride, and I couldn't wait to show it off.

Pearls of Wisdom

I have a lot to be grateful for from my journey through, and out of, my years of chronic pain. Namely, the unwavering support from my family and friends, as well as the incredible physiotherapists, acupuncturists, sports medicine doctors, neurosurgeons and other medical professionals that helped me along the way. I would be remiss, however, if I didn't recognize the important new skill I picked up when I was losing faith in ever seeing the end of my back pain. Knitting was a savior to my hope, and trust of my body, and taught me that I was capable of so much more than athleticism, and traditional accomplishments. It provided me with calmness during a storm of nerve pain and emotional inner turmoil, as well as an activity that produced fashionable garments and home décor. I will forever be grateful for discovering knitting, and how it opened my creative mind, and built a better relationship with my body. The road to trusting my body wasn't seamless, but I have knitting to thank for making it a whole lot more tollera-wool.

Author's note: A special, obsessive, and loving thank you to my family. You are simply the best. I love you so much and will always remember all of the things you picked up off the floor for me. Thank you to anyone who made it through reading this without vomiting from all the puns.