Last week I went to yoga class and thought; "Ow. There's something icky going on with my wrist". Several I-should-have-known-better plank/chaturanga/bakasana/and even headstands later, I was icing my wrist at home. But it wasn't the yoga that hurt me, my friends.
Ah, crochet. How I have learned to love thee. You're speed, your strength, your ability to evoke 70's afghan nostalgia. But you have scorned me crochet. Or perhaps I am the scorn...er?
I crochet like my Mum taught me. Like this:
I've been accused of crocheting "fancy". I crochet like an aristocrat, delicately sipping tea with a pinky finger extending from a glove-clad hand. The only problem with being fancy, is that it's often completely unnecessary, like shaving your legs and painting your nails and then sitting around the house in sweatpants all day. Why all the extra work?
My tendinitis (self-diagnosed) is a direct result of crocheting too fancy whilst attempting to finish this afghan before winter sets in:
After THREE FULL DAYS of no knitting, crocheting or yoga, I was ready to poke my eyes out. (Seriously, what do non-knitters do with their hands when they're watching 16 and Pregnant? They just SIT there?) After my few days of R.I.C.E. I allowed myself some very minimal knitting and started to learn a new way to crochet:
Things were looking up. Then this happened:
Tendinitis, meet Ankle Sprain! I've lived in Toronto for 14 years and am lucky enough to have never before had cause to visit a hospital emergency room. I have heard nothing but horror stories of the obscene wait times at the E.R. As far as I was concerned, if you weren't bleeding to death from a gun-shot wound, don't even bother going to the hospital. Then I found myself in tears after walking the two blocks from the streetcar stop to my door. Speaking of streetcars, allow me to fill you in:
Internal monologue, Wednesday Nov 3rd:
8:15:00 am - Hey the, streetcar is coming!
8:15:30 am - The stoplight turned green! If I run I can totally catch that streetcar!"
8:16:00 am - I'm running! I'm gonna make it! Ow! I twisted my ankle! I'm still running!
8:16:30 am - Yeah! I made it! I should do ankle circles...
8:17:00 am - (Ankles circling) Meh, I'm good!
I was fine. Totally fine. No pain. No swelling. Until I got up to leave work at 5.
5:10 pm - Damn! Has this parking lot always been so big? This limp to the bus stop is taking forever.
A long and painful ride later, I found myself barely able to walk the two blocks to my door.
6:03 pm - (Crying on my stairs) S**t! I have to go to the emergency room!
True, I wasn't bleeding from a gunshot wound, but I know if pain is making me cry it's probably a good idea to seek medical attention. 2 hours later, I was back at home, using the ice-pack formerly applied to my wrist, to ice my newly diagnosed Sprained Ankle.
1 - Save your fancy for when it counts.
2 - Never run to catch public transportation.
3 - Toronto Western Hospital E.R waiting times are totally reasonable.
4 - Always keep an icepack in the freezer.
Place safe kiddos!