My work includes a significant amount of orthopedic anesthesia. The fit patients often have an aura of disbelief surrounding them. How can the fitness quest be connected to malfunctions that need surgery? The contradiction is too big for immediate comprehension.
I tell them,"You have a choice. You can either wear it out, or you can rust it out." Humans are still beta versions with no middle ground on this. Knees. Hips. Ankles. Shoulders. Thumbs, for heaven's sake!
Mr. Etherknitter and I live by this.
So what does a random, twitchy knitter do while her husband is having rotator cuff surgery?
First she knits. A sock, of course. Gary (of the long-stalled vest) asked for socks. It is the least I can do to make up for the Straker vest debacle. (Yarn is DyeDreams BFL, colorway eggplant.) Then she plays WhirlyWord on her iPhone.
Lunch is a brief diversion. She paces. More time has passed than the surgery was booked for, which often means conversion from arthroscopic repair to open incision repair. She hopes she is wrong.
The computers in the waiting room beckon. She sits down to Ravelry, and sorts through her queue, her favorites. A written list of all shawl aspirations seems like a good idea.
Finally, the husband is ready to go home. He is an advertisement for block anesthesia (numb up just the shoulder, not the brain). He has no narcotics to make him throw up. (Yet. Wait til the block wears off.) He has no general anesthesia to make him feel zorked. (Yes, we use that term. I am working on getting it included in the next edition of Dorland's Medical Dictionary.)
He is slam-dunked into bed so that the ice-cuff can do its job of decreasing swelling. I will be his cook, nurse, laundress, and cheerleader for the next few weeks.
Maybe lots of knitting will happen. Sure needs to, from the looks of things on that list.
(Shoulder to the right of the picture, rest of man on the left.)