Here is the first completed sleeve for Pipes. I ended up doing a very conventional sleeve. After all, there are reasons that a particular type of sleeve becomes conventional: comfort, ease of movement, attractiveness.
Whether #2 daughter will be able to wear this soon, even if I complete it soon, is another question. She has injured her shoulder. There is talk of an MRI. A doctor incautiously mentioned surgery.
Following the resultant frantic phone call, my husband told us a story.
“Speaking of pain,” he said, “I once fell out of a tree.”
When he was a boy, he fell out of a tree. The gestures accompanying the story suggest a tall tree. He couldn’t stand or walk, or even crawl. So he dragged himself — he demonstrated this for us on the living room carpet — under the house and stayed there for a couple of hours.
Later, #1 son said the great part about this story was the matter-of-fact way his dad told it.
“It’s as though I told you I had a rock in my shoe and you asked what I did, and I said I took the rock out of my shoe,” he said.
Naturally, a child who had seriously hurt himself and was possibly paralyzed would hide for a couple of hours under the house.
At last, his mother came and found him. She put him in front of a fire for several more hours, and he was fine after that.
This last bit of the story was told in a QED sort of voice. The boys and I were silent. Was this meant to reassure us that #2 daughter’s injury would be okay? Perhaps it was to show the folly of seeing a doctor and having an MRI? Maybe she ought to sit in front of a fire for awhile?
My husband had already asked #2 daughter how old the doctor was. He was in his thirties, she thought. He advised her not to allow this doctor to perform any surgery, since he would just be practicing on her.
We still don’t know the moral of the story. I hope #2 daughter will be able to put on a sweater by the time I finish Pipes.