Fisherman’s Nap Crochet Blanket Pattern – 10 years in the making?

On September 21st 2012 at around 6.30am, I was wheeled into an operating theatre for a major hip replacement and reconstruction surgery which would change my life in many unexpected ways. Crochet was one of them.

It seemed fitting to combine this anniversary with the launch of my new crochet blanket new pattern and to raise some money for an important charity at the same time.

Today, I am super excited to introduce my new crochet blanket pattern, ’Fisherman’s Nap’, and celebrate the healing power of crochet and the joys of serendipity.

On my ’hippy birthday’ I want to take some time to share with you the the full story about what led me to pick up a hook for the first time and why I’ve chosen to donate to this charity.

But before I dig deeper into my story, let’s get the important stuff out there;

Tldr;

From today until the end of September 2022, I will donate £2.50 from every copy of Fisherman’s Nap sold to scope, the disability equality charity that campaigns to create a fairer society.

You can purchase the fisherman’s nap crochet blanket pattern (pictured) from Ravelry, Etsy or Love Crafts.

You can learn more about the crochet pattern here.

It’s an aran weight cabled blanket which would make a gorgeous gift to a loved one, or keep you cosy over the winter months.

I chose this charity because their work resonates with me as a result of my own experience with physical challenges and the way hindsight has allowed me to understand this in a wider context.

Just for clarity, the language I use here is not formal medical language (I have no medical background), it’s my understanding of my condition and my description of my experience and my opinion. Only ever take medical advice from suitably qualified professionals.

There’s also a picture of an x-ray below which the squeamish may find a bit icky, so read with caution (or stop here) if that sounds like you.

The full story

As I write this post, my brain is telling me that sharing this is too self indulgent, that no one will care (indeed, you don’t have to read on!). BUT if it can make one person who may relate to my experience feel a bit less alone or validate their own, then it’s worth it.

Back in my late teens I started experiencing an odd kind of pain in my right hip, seemingly out of nowhere. It took over two years but eventually I was diagnosed (apparently all it took in the end was an x-ray after someone believed my pain meant something) with something called hip dysplasia.

I always explain it as the thing that some dogs get when they walk up too many stairs. One can never be sad about being compared to a dog… also, its the context under which most people are familiar with the condition.

It was a congenital disorder (I was born with it) in my hip joint which is usually picked up when you’re a baby (but not in my case).

In my own words, the femoral head – the ball at the top of the femur (thigh bone) – was trying to escape from the socket in my pelvis which was too shallow to keep it in position long term.

A doctor would no doubt roll their eyes and face palm at my description (and you can read some more formal descriptions here), but its the wording that works for me.

Living with pain and uncertainty

Anyway, so there I was aged 21 or 22 with this diagnosis I didn’t really understand, being told not to put on weight and not to do high impact exercise, oh and I’d probably need a hip replacement to sort it at some point.

At the time, mostly I felt validated that I had found an explanation for the pain I was having. Wondering if something is all in your head is quite an unsettling state to be in, so knowing I wasn’t making it up was a big part of the battle for me. The pain itself was secondary to that.

So I just got on with things.

Throughout my 20s, the pain I was experiencing slowly got worse. But like a frog in a slowly boiling pot, I kind of ignored it.

It got to the stage where I would have to budget my activities, knowing that a night out dancing would be paid for with several days of pain. Though it was almost always worth it.

Because I had so little real understanding of my condition and knew no one else in the same situation, I hugely minimised my experience.

I tried desperately to keep up with the ’normal’ activities my friends seemed to do with ease and did my best not to ’use it as an excuse,’ because a lot of the time I felt like a bit of a fraud if I’m honest.

It wasn’t helped by aside comments from others who, in my mind if not intentionally, made me feel like a burden or like I was being pathetic.

I didn’t think it was serious enough to cause a fuss about and limited my complaints of pain to those I trusted on a deeper level not to roll their eyes at me.

When one has a disability that’s invisible to others, it can be easy to feel dismissed, and as I experienced, to dismiss it oneself.

At times, I genuinely believed people thought I was making it up. To the point I thought I might be too.

It is only with hindsight, I realise how much anxiety that caused and how small I had made my world as a result.

Gaslighting wasn’t a common term 10 years ago.

I didn’t understand at the time that my internalised ablism was partially responsible.

I believed that if I couldn’t do things like every one else, then I wasn’t worthy. So I pretended there wasn’t much of an issue and avoided situations where I couldn’t pretend.

I mean of course I realise rationally that is nonsense, that regardless of their abilities, every human has value.

And that is for you to remember if you’re out there feeling like I did.

You are valuable.

Do not ever doubt it.

The brain just has a way of convincing you that what you fear to be the case is true.

I am here to tell you it is not.

This slip slide went on until my early thirties when it was apparent that things were going more rapidly down hill.

Finally I went back to seek updated medical advice and got onto the radar of an understanding orthopaedic surgeon.

Eventually, it got to the point where I was only able to really limp around for about an hour before the pain got too much.

The winter of 2011 was excruciating and I knew another winter might tip me over the edge – it really is true how the cold gets into your joints.

I had had enough and thankfully my doctor agreed it was time for action and I was fortunate enough to get the hip replacement and restructuring surgery the following autumn, which changed it all.

I remember having my pre-op assessment where you had to tick a ton of boxes about pre-existing conditions and I didn’t tick any.

The nurse looked at me and said, “well you have arthritis, that’s why you’re here…”

I had never heard anyone describe it in those terms before.

it one of the first moments where I actually thought… oh, this is really a thing, not just me causing a fuss… it was a strange mixture of feelings and a lightbulb moment I wont forget.

I wish I could tell that me of the past how valid it all was.

The gory bit

Then came the surgery…

For those that like gory details, they cut the top of the femur off, popped an artificial hip joint in, crushed up the bone they chopped off and used it to reshape the hip socket to support the new joint, smushing the bone into shape. (again, these are really not medical terms, it’s my own description based on my limited understanding!)

Here’s what the x-ray looked like after… oh, they added some screws too to hold it in place… yes, I set off the metal detectors in airports.

When I woke up from the surgery I still remember the immediate relief.

The pain had gone.

I was sore from the surgery (and frankly off my t*ts from the anaesthetic and meds), but the nagging pain that had been a constant companion most of my adult life had left the building.

You know when you’re cooking and you turn the extractor fan off when you’re finished – and it’s only at that point, when you sigh that relief at the quiet, that you realise just how irritating the noise had been… it felt like that.

Recovery

So began my recovery.

I had naively thought that I would be back on my feet in a few weeks as that is what I had read about typical hip replacements. Only this wasn’t one of those. The bone graft needed time to heal and then I could start thinking about walking without support.

It makes me laugh now at how little I knew about what the recovery would involve.

I think I was just so focused on getting through the surgery, I genuinely hadn’t thought further ahead. It’s probably just as well tbh, it was pretty rough.

It turned out that what recovery would involve was 4 months on crutches and having to learn how to walk all over again. (If anyone ever asks you to ‘walk normally’ you will immediately realise you don’t know how to make it conscious)

On top of that, my body and skeleton took a while get used to its new support and complained loudly about it in the process.

Get to the crochet already…

About 4 weeks in I was going slightly stir crazy sitting on the sofa, reading and watching junk on tv (I think at this stage netflix still involved sending out dvds) and intermittently trying to do my actual paid job from home.

I had been on instagram since the previous year and found myself following all sorts of creative and crafty accounts. In particular crochet.

I’d never tried crochet before. My mum had made us knit dishcloths for my grandma as a kid but my skills never progressed beyond.

But I loved all the cute things I saw people making, so I bought myself a kids beginners kit from amazon and right from the start I was fascinated.

I knew nothing about crochet or yarn weights or fibres or how to make a hat.

But thanks to youtube and a lot of time isolated from the world, I dove right in.

I can’t quite put into words how learning this new skill helped those weeks and months pass happily. How creating my first scarf, hat and gloves gave me such a sense of achievement. That maybe this older dog could still learn new tricks (I mean I was only 34 at the time but I felt ancient…).

Creating these owl hats for my best friend’s twins (that she had whilst I couldn’t walk or drive) is still one of my proudest creations (soz about the grainy pic – they turn 10 next week too).

Thanks to instagram, I happily have a record of the whole journey from my first wonky square to my latest cable work blanket design. It makes me smile to scroll back.

It took me well over a year to regain some of my physical confidence. To trust that I wasn’t going to return to my previous state. I sometimes still get scared about it today.

Throughout those challenges, I always found that crochet helped calm my nerves and settle my mind. It was, and still is, an incredible tonic.

Lessons learned and serendipity

So what are the conclusions from this meandering tale?

What have I learned from all this?

There are 3 things I want to share, and these are my opinions and only. You don’t have to agree, but I always find it interesting to hear other’s experiences as it gives me a new perspective through which to view the world.

Value and care for your health

First off, when it comes to your health, trust yourself and advocate for your needs.

Get to know your body and mind. Notice them. Learn to recognise what is normal for you and what is not.

You are the only one who can know this.

Know your worth is not related to your physical ability

Second. Internalise the belief that neither you, nor any other human being is ’less than’ by having a different body or mind which restricts their ability to do ’normal’ things…

There is no normal…

There is what the world is built to serve…

It’s the world that needs to change and accommodate…

It’s not for those with disabilities to apologise.

This is the reason I have chosen to support Scope. Please read about the social model of disability which explains it much more coherently than I ever could.

Embrace the twists and turns

And the last lesson was really a reinforcement of what I have always believed. That happenstance and serendipity are ever present forces for good.

The world presents us all with challenges and going through the hard stuff can have payoffs that we often don’t see until way down the line.

Yes it was a rough time, but I am not looking for sympathy for surviving it.

Because here I am, 10 years on, a full time crochet designer and blogger.

Had I been born with a fully functioning hip socket, I seriously doubt I would be doing what I’m doing now.

I certainly wouldn’t have had the gratitude I now cary every time I go for a walk.

What an incredible unlikely twist of fate.

I no longer live in pain because I could be rebuilt. It has taught me never to take my body or my health for granted and to have compassion for those who are in a different position. A mindset I don’t think I would have had I been healthy all my life.

A kind of ’no mud, no lotus’ vibe.

I see it as a reminder just how little control we have in our lives. And I mean that as a liberating statement.

We are all presented with obstacles and we get to choose how we respond to them, rarely having any real clue where those choices may take us.

So these days, I endeavour to go with the flow, do what I think is best with the information and abilities I have at the time and trust the universe will work it out…whatever that will look like… though that doesn’t mean I don’t wildly stress out in the meantime…

I’m not championing toxic positivity here.

We all go through difficult times and there is no glossing over the fact that experiences can be hard or damaging or painful or uncomfortable in a thousand different ways. I’m not trying to minimise this. I am trying to encourage acceptance of it. It’s part of life.

Seeing it as part of a bigger picture is what helps me to endure.

Learning and growth is so often the result of suffering. Does that mean the suffering is ‘worth it’?

Well I can’t help you with an answer there. It’s something we all have to decide for ourselves.

And that seems like a good thought to end with…

But before my final sign off, I want to remind you once more…

From today until the end of September 2022, 50% of each sale of the Fisherman’s Nap Pattern will be donated to scope.

You can purchase the fisherman’s nap crochet blanket pattern from Ravelry, Etsy or Love Crafts.

If the pattern is not up your street, but you like the sound of what they do, you can make a direct donation here.

Whilst thinking about this 10 year anniversary, I have talked to may people about their journey to crochet and for so many it has come as part of a healing process.

Whether that is from a physical health condition, a difficult life event, stress, anxiety, depression or other challenges, it really is a healing craft in so many ways.

If you’re of the same mind, I would love to hear your stories in the comments if you care to share.

Happy Hooking.

Big love.

Dx

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