Today I bring you a very special episode of Dairy Godmother. This episode teaches a lesson, and the life that lesson saves, might be your very own. You see, today I suffered A.S.K.I.--A Serious Knitting Injury.
This story starts in my backyard...
I wasn't feeling 100% today, so I thought I would do a little gentle, quiet knitting...
Please note that I was using 4 needles, metal needles, with points on both ends, that is 8 shiny, angry fiercely sharp points. Very pointy. And strong. And many of them. Apparently with a taste for blood. My blood.
I innocently knitted away on a pair of socks for myself (definitely NOT gonna be my "lucky" socks). Then something made me go to stand up from my comfortable seat in a low-slung lawn chair. I had my knitting in my lap and when I rocked forward I caused a rift in the space-time continuum and allowed some horrid knitting demon to enter my world... and rock it. I would like to say an epic battle ensued, but the battle was mostly one-sided. As I leaned forward, I heard one of the most disgusting sounds I ever heard and looked down in horror to see that a knitting needle had punctured my bare thigh and was sticking straight out of said thigh, all except the 3 inches or so actually in my thigh. Horrible. Horrible. Horrible. That sound I heard was it puncturing me. And now I have this friggin' needle in my leg. I sucked it up and grabbed the needle and yanked it out, completely and utterly disgusted and horrified. I managed to get inside and up to the bathroom and screamed for antibacterial ointment "Stat!" Then Jasmine came in and plunged a hypodermic needle directly into my heart and pumped me up with epinephrine. Or, she put a band-aid on it for me while a looping soundtrack of that horrible sound skipped over and over in my mind. Whatever.
So, here is the weirdest part. It basically didn't bleed. And although it is sore, there was no excruciating pain. My tetanus shot is up to date. So I just went outside and discovered that my knitting had come undone!!!! I picked it up and got it back on my needles, correctly I might add (something I usually screw up). That is how I knit, baby.
So upon doing some research regarding how many other people were stupid enough to do this, I found this story about a lady that took a knitting needle to the heart and lived! Of course, she was a children's librarian so she is pretty much f'ing magical. Still, a needle to the ventricle would do most mere mortals in. I am just glad the other end of my needle hit the underwire of my bra, possibly saving my life like having a sentimental cigarette case in your breast pocket can deflect a bullet fired from close range at your precious organ.
So, what have we learned today? That knitters are totally badass because they become toughened (insert photo of ninjas training by sticking their hands into hot coals) by frequent heartbreaking trials and tribulations, such as working for months on an ill-fitting sweater caused by pshawing the need to make a swatch gauge or children/animals/clumsy people causing their knitting to come unravelled in the midst of some tricky bit of knitting and purling.
That it is NOT a good idea to stand up with your knitting in your lap. Put it in your knitting bag, hold it away from you, then stand. Got it.
That A.S.K.I. can cause P.T.S.D. I am very fearful of my needles seeking me out now that they have tasted my blood. There must be a self-help group for people that have witnessed the horror of A.S.K.I.
The horror, oh, the horror.