The [K]nothingness of Knitting

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Clyde's 3-corner wool hat, top

Clyde's 3-corner wool hat, front

I have crocheted since I was a kid, but I re-discovered knitting in my 40’s, when I bought a silly hand-knit dreadlock hat from a Peruvian woman in Minneapolis and wanted to copy the pattern. I love the feel of wool—I have a terribly neglected spinning wheel and a huge stash of raw silk, as well as sheep, alpaca, and even some camel wool I could be spinning into gorgeous yarns. I’ll get started on that as soon as I can fit into my Sleeping Beauty dress & gauntlets again.

Joe's & Masha's Tassel Hats

In the meantime, I have two baskets beside my chair. I keep one filled with balls/skeins of every conceivable weight, texture, and color of yarn. The other holds my current knitting projects; I usually have at least two going, so I don’t get bored. I’m already stockpiling next year’s Christmas presents. I’m also building a stash of baby hats for any family/friend new arrivals who pop out next year, and for my amazing sister-in-law, who does mission work in Haiti twice a year and takes baby hats to new Haitian moms (you can donate to this local organization by going to http://www.helpinghandsforhaiti.com/donate).

BS Brain Hat, in progress

I’ve always felt like knitting allows me to sit around and watch bad TV, guilt-free, without my grandma’s “idle hands are the devil’s workshop” ringing in my slightly-addled brain (I don’t believe in the devil, but I DO believe in my grandma's ability to come back from the Great Beyond and give me SUCH a scolding). And since BS, knitting has also been providing me with two other essential functions: Occupational therapy and mindfulness practice.

Handwarmers, Tassel Hat, Dreadlock Hat

When I first got home from the hospital, knitting was painfully slow. I didn’t have much fine-motor control on my left side, so even holding a knitting needle was rough. But I stuck with it. Mom and I watched movies and knitted simple square dishrags. As my brain re-routed, knitting got easier. Shucks…I’d wager the knitting actually helped my brain forge new neural pathways. And it was waaaay more interesting than raising my arms to shoulder-level three times, which was one of the THREE exercises a therapist gave me on my ONE visit; the other two were to touch my nose with my left index finger, and to lift my left leg from a seated position (I never went back to “therapy”). In fact, everything about knitting was stimulating for my struggling brain and my clunky left side—feeling the yarn, winding skeins into balls on a nostepinde, coordinating colors, choosing needles, and the knitting itself. And finishing a project helped me see that I was making progress not just in my hat stash, but also in my stroke recovery.

Crystal's Tassel Hat

I also discovered that I could turn knitting into meditation. Sans the bad TV, I could sit in a quiet room and simply be aware of the knitting—the feel of the yarn, the clickety-clack of my bamboo needles, the repetitive motion of yarning-over, the patient progress of adding one stitch at a time to a whole. I could practice not letting my mind wander beyond the knitting itself, not running scenarios in my head of the past or possible futures, not having imaginary conversations with a bill collector, not righting imaginary wrongs. I could practice being present—just keeping my attention on the knitting. It was/is incredibly peaceful and healing...therapeutic.

Super Sunny Handwarmers

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just idling, burning patchouli incense and developing “knitter’s spread”—that Laz-y-Girl-shaped arse with its bulgy cushion of Doritos’ fat. I’m doing other kinds of therapy, as well: Baking, cooking, dishes, laundry, Christmas prep and cleanup, dog-walking, going to the gym, and getting ready for school (I go back to teaching half-time next week). But whenever I get a chance, you’ll find me cranking out another knitting project. Because every three-cornered wool clown hat improves my hand-eye coordination, stills my racing Type-A mind, and makes this a warmer, happier world.

Meditations on My Stroke

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Huh? What reindeer antlers?

Random thoughts about BS (my name for an unexpected little right pontine stroke I had back in October):

1.     I am a completely different person now. I will never be the “old me” again.

2.     I am exactly the same as I was before, so don’t be afraid of me.

3.     Chex Mix and chocolate chip cookies are profoundly healing.

4.  Once upon a time, while I slept, undetected high blood pressure sent a tiny clot through an artery in my brain until the clot blocked blood flow (and oxygen), killing off some circuitry in the pons area of my brain. I woke at 3 a.m. because my hand felt funny, heavy and wobbly. So of course, I went back to sleep. When I finally got up at 6 a.m., my left side didn’t work right. My arm & leg were heavy and wouldn’t do what my brain tried to tell them to do (brush the hair out of my face, pull back the blanket, get up, walk, etc.). You have a window of 3 hours to get to a hospital once a stroke starts, and maybe get the miracle TPA (clot buster) drug that can help minimize damage or even prevent a major stroke. I missed that window. My left side is slowly coming back online, but I know now (admit) that it will be many months before my brain has things fully reconfigured.

5.  TV is good cognitive therapy. For example, “Alaska: the Last Frontier” makes me thankful for grocery stores and summer. “Finding Bigfoot” is an excellent pre-nap sedative. And, if the alien overlords judge us by “Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” our planet is doomed.

6.  I look perfectly fine and healthy on the outside. So to you, it may seem like I’m well now. Or, it may seem like all I do is watch TV, read, or eat chocolate chip cookies. But I want you to know that on the inside, my brain is finding new pathways around the burnt-out wiring in my pons as it tries to reconnect with my left side. My brain is holding my left arm in place to keep it from drifting off into space, away from my body. My brain is keeping my left knee from locking up with every step. My brain is making sure my lazy left chest and rib muscles expand with each breath. My brain is forcing the left side of my throat and vocal folds to keep up when I talk or sing. My brain is keeping my left eye centered and focused. And my brain is simultaneously controlling and monitoring every other function of my body. So believe me…on the inside, I am working harder than I’ve ever worked in my life.

Pontine Stroke

7.  The pons is deep in the center of the brain, at the top of the brainstem. Among other things, it contains nuclei that help control sleep, respiration, swallowing, bladder function, equilibrium, eye movement, facial expressions, and posture. So if you’ve seen me since BS, you know I am a VERY, VERY lucky girl.

8.  A dog or cat (or both) in the lap is effective at lowering blood pressure, and picking cat hair out of your food is good occupational therapy.

9.  The brain accounts for about 20-25% of the human body’s energy use. I’m pretty sure my brain is sucking up more than that right now, which is why for now, I need frequent rest, I often prefer a calm, low-stimulation environment, and I’m learning the art of napping. See #6.

10.  A life-changing illness is just that: life changing. It causes one to re-evaluate everything. It brings things into startling new focus. It shifts and solidifies priorities. It allows one to contemplate mortality. It reveals the true nature of relationships. It helps one to let go. All of these are good things.

11. Dear Self: Please drive a stake through the heart of your inner guilt-ridden, hyper-responsible, overachieving demon. This post-stroke recovery period is NOT an opportunity for you to get a bunch of stuff done. Healing is what you need to get done. Period.

12.  For a while after BS, I needed time to get to know the new ME. I didn’t want to see or talk to people at first. But now I’m comfortable with my post-stroke self, even on my clunkiest days. Now I love to see friends & family. Yes, visits need to be shorter than before—I can go about 2 hours now before I need rest. And yes, I might actually tell you when you need to go. But know that I still love you and will want to see you again.

13.  Some days are better than others. On clunky days, my left side reverts to the wobbly lack of coordination I experienced just after BS. I drop things. I have more trouble walking, and I move much slower. I lose my balance. Having a conversation takes effort and concentration. Deep breathing is work. Little things—like frustration or walking to the kitchen—wear me out. On these days, I rest more. I don’t try to measure my progress. I don’t allow myself to think “setback.” I just let my body be however it is and know that soon, I will have another great day.

14.  I am inspired and motivated by Jill Bolte Taylor (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTrJqmKoveU), Ram Das (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b30LSiFVxPM), my friend Cindy Kirkeby, my friend Larry Smith (http://ridewithlarrymovie.com/who-is-larry-smith/), and many others who are far braver than me and who remind me that self-pity is a waste of precious energy.

Memorize this!

15.  Sleep is my new BFF. Sleep truly IS the great healer, something most western medicine doesn’t seem to know. In the hospital, they woke me up every hour or two (throughout the day and night) to ask my birthday or to ask who was president. In many rehab facilities, post-stroke folks are given Ritalin or other stimulants to keep them awake. Or, they’re given antidepressants because someone decided they sleep too much. Then they’re taken to PT or OT on the staff’s schedule, not when the patient feels rested and ready for it. All of this SLOWS the healing process, I’m sure. Jill Bolte Taylor is a neuroscientist who, at age 37, had a massive hemorrhagic stroke. Instead of going to a rehab facility, her mom lived with and took care of her. Taylor credits her mom for giving her the best therapy possible—sleep. Taylor’s mom let her sleep whenever she wanted. Then, when she felt rested enough, her mom would work with her at some small task until Taylor needed to sleep again. Typically, she would sleep 6 hours, work at something for 20 minutes, then go back to sleep another 6 hours, etc. My mom, who sat with me every day after I came home from the hospital, did the same. Some days, we would both take a nice long nap, knit a dishrag, then fall asleep again. Sleep helps the brain catalog and retain things in memory. Sleep helps the brain move things from short-term to long-term memory. After a stroke, sleep gives the brain the rest it needs to process “new” information (re-learn) and to re-route information around destroyed brain tissue. Research at the University of Chicago showed that patients with high blood pressure who had a stroke can decrease their risk of another stroke by increasing the amount of sleep they get.

So what’d’ya say? Let’s all have a nap…sweet dreams…

The Big Universal Crapshoot

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Brain injury can lead to wearing funny hats.

Back to my “crapshoot” theory of life. You may have read about it in an earlier blog post of mine: http://uncanneryrow.blogspot.com/search?q=crapshoot. The theory was reinforced by my recent stroke, affectionately named BS. In my previous life (before BS), I considered myself a pretty healthy person. Ray & I are old granola-eating hippies. I “eat like a rabbit,” as my son likes to say, which means very little fast/restaurant food, as much local and organic food as I can get here in the land of livestock, loads of veggies, tons of whole grains and legumes, olive oil, few sweets, hardly any bread, tofu, homemade tabouli, falafel, homecooked soups & stews, and mostly chicken, fish, organic venison, and organic lamb when we eat meat. I’m slightly overweight (good winter insulation for prairie folk), but I’m active, and I work damn hard. Oh yeah…and that granola? It’s homemade, low-fat, low-sweet (honey and agave), with all organic ingredients from the co-op.

In spite of our healthy lifestyle, Ray’s had two heart attacks and I’ve had a stroke. Us—not the bazillions of cheeseburger pounding, beer guzzling, sedentary NASCAR-watching, hairspray wearing, preservative-eating, pork rind and sour cream dip aficianados out there. They’re often perfectly healthy. (Sorry…I’m working on my teensy weensy bitterness.)

Anyway, BS left me with left-side “weakness and incoordination.” That’s stroke-speak for no paralysis or numbness but an inability to use much of the left side. Try touching each fingertip of one hand to the thumb on that hand—I couldn’t do that with my left hand at first. But it’s coming back—I can do most things now, though everything’s much slower and requires concentration. My left knee still can’t quite decide if it’s supposed to lock or not (c’mon Brain…we need a new neural pathway for this!), so it just kind of flops back and forth, and I look like Frankenstein when I walk (ironic, since this is the novel my Honor’s students are studying this semester in my absence). I wouldn’t admit this for a long time…till now, really…but my entire left side was affected, so the left side of my throat is weak, and if I talk (or try to sing) too long, I get tired and hoarse. Also, if I’m upright for a while, my stomach muscles start to hurt just like I’d done 100 crunches. It’s almost as if trying to control (ha! such a myth…) or re-route my left side requires so much new brain and muscle energy that it quickly wears my body out. In fact, any use of my left side seems to require extraordinary effort followed by a nap.

Granola & morning meds...mmm!

I don’t quite have a handle on the emotional baggage of BS, either. Sometimes, suddenly and for no apparent reason, my stomach muscles tighten like a giant sash, and the floodgates open. I’m really good at quickly bringing this under control (hehe...there's that myth again), but I’m not sure that’s such a good thing. One possible disadvantage of immediate and constant loving care after something like this is that one is never alone to really let go emotionally till one is tapped out. I think a person who’s had a stroke, accident, heart attack, etc. needs to grieve for their former life. Otherwise, it’s like a constant shadow a half-step behind. 

Anyway, this probably wasn’t a smart move on my part, but last weekend, we went to the funeral of our friends’ son—a 26-year-old kid just pulling his life together, who died in an accidental apartment fire. We had just gone to his dad’s funeral last summer, making it doubly sad. Then, the next day, I went to our semi-monthly SOPD (Sisters of Perpetual Disorder) dinner. When all 20+ women stood to say they’d do whatever I needed to help me recover, I was completely overwhelmed. I had to beat a hasty retreat, so I wouldn’t burst into tears and turn the dinner into one giant sobfest of gratitude and sister-love. Mom is still coming every day to stay with me. Having my 77-year-old mommy commute daily to the farm to take care of me isn’t exactly how I saw things developing in my life, though I can’t imagine how we would all have gotten through this without her.

In addition to the immediate physical and emotional wreckage of BS, the stroke brought other changes, as well. No more daily caffeine, which for me was dang near a French Roast IV drip. Now, I buy incredibly expensive decaf beans, so I can keep my daily coffee rituals. And I’ve started drinking a bit of decaf tea now & then. No nicotine anymore. Yes, I still smoked, though not that much and only chemical-free cigs. Smoking was a ritual, too…10 minutes on the back porch, watching the rural scene, away from the gizmos and noise…ah. Meds. Before BS, I never took anything except Advil or vitamins. Now I have a daily pill reminder case. Argh. I take my blood pressure at least twice a day. We just finished a sleep study (people with apnea are 4 times more likely to have strokes and/or heart attacks), and it looks like we’ll be picking out his & hers CPAP machines in the next couple of weeks—they come in blue paisley, right? Praise all that’s holy my neurologist said to keep up the red wine because it can lower cholesterol. Giving up wine would have been the last straw…

Ray and I are trying not to BE our health issues, not to be THOSE people—the ones whose world is all doctor appointments, lab numbers, and medical jargon. I like to think the Universe was tenderly hobbling us with these little setbacks, helping us slow down and re-prioritize before we end up with BIGGER problems from which we can’t recover. I like to think I’m learning important stuff from all this. I like to think it’s an opportunity to re-evaluate and re-direct our energies. And I did get a huge batch of yummy granola made (guess what everyone’s getting for Christmas this year?).

Sleep study or Borg assimilation?

These health “blips” might be the result of lousy genes—I just found out my dad and mom both have high BP. Or, they might be from too many vices for too many years—I did have the stroke “quadrifecta”: Stress, high BP, high cholesterol, and smoking. But then, I’m in Walmart picking up prescriptions and plantar fasciitis heel pads, and I get a gander at the people walking about who have NOT had heart attacks or strokes, and in a moment of brilliant clarity I know the ugly truth: It’s just the Big Universal Crapshoot.