Not to mention one’s autoerotic habits.
My first was a broken toe at 22 or 23 when I greatly stubbed it against a piece of furniture in the middle of the night.
My second was a bike crash at 33, resulting in a broken collarbone. For me this was really my first official broken bone as broken toes have been sort of a dime-a-dozen and don’t really impact things.
My third was a broken wrist (a scaphoid to be exact) from falling when skating when I was 38.
My fourth was also a broken scaphoid on the opposite side when I was 48. I was winter biking and hit a patch of ice and fell.
There was a possible fifth, when I was 57, when I was running and tripped on a root or something and possibly broke a rib, but I didn’t bother getting it checked.
Wow, you people have been through a lot! I hurt just reading the posts.
Not sure this counts, but thought it was funny. I MAY have broken a bone. I accidentally slammed the car trunk on my finger. It took a lot of shrieking before I could get my keys. I drove myself to the ER. Doc said he couldn’t tell if it was broken without ex-rays, so they were going to call in the radiologist (It was 10 PM at a small hospital.), but I didn’t want to bother her, so they splinted it, and I left.
A few days later, school started. The splinted finger was my middle finger, so every time I wrote on the board, I flipped off my students. They thought it was hysterical.
I haven’t bothered to actually tally the data in this thread, but it seems to me that people seem to fall into 3 populations:
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Never had a broken bone
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Had one broken bone.
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Had way more than one broken bone. It’s not two, it’s let me see if I can list them all or even remember them.
When I started my first real job, I seriously considered getting what I had always wanted, a Honda CR250 motocross bike. It was thinking about all the broken bones that would follow that helped me to decide against it.
My family seemed to cultivate them, when I was growing up.
My broken arm, at age 6, was the first (and that damn orthopedist was really an ass: when you walk into the room, grab the patient’s arm, and YANK - without a WORD to the patient… I hadn’t cried until them). Brother #1 didn’t have any, that I recall. Brother #3 broke his arm roller skating when I was 11 or so - I remember having to try to call our parents, and couldn’t get through, so I finally called the next door neighbors to go over and tell them). I think he later had a broken collarbone from a bike accident but that was after I moved away for college.
Brother #2 broke a hand, a foot, and an arm at various times. He got the cast off the hand one morning, and broke the foot that afternoon (or maybe the foot, then the hand).
The orthopedist lived down the street from close friends of ours. We always thought we’d paid for about a third of his house.
To the best of my knowledge, I still hold the record in my family. What do I win?
Well, I’ve decided to test that theory.
Broke my foot again, yesterday. Dammit. I had been sitting in an unusual position for too long. Both feet fell asleep. Stood up. Was not careful enough when I took my first step. Landed on the side or nearly on the top of my left foot - not quite sure, but ouch. So I hobbled back to my desk, and noted that the foot was not settling down, in fact it was getting more and more painful. From experience, I know that usually means a broken bone.
I got in to see an orthopedist this morning - interestingly, one of the larger practices locally has an orthopedics urgent care. I think I got there at 8:20, and saw the doctor by 9:15 or so. He basically said “yep, you broke exactly the bone you thought you had”.
I have to give myself credit: none of the bones I’ve broken were as bad as they could have been. Neither elbow required surgery (most broken elbows do, but I managed to do the “good” kind both times). Both broken feet, and the broken toe, just required surgical boots (and buddy taping for the toe). The tailbone was an annoyance.
Welp. My fifty plus year membership of the Never Broke A Bone Club was abruptly terminated yesterday.
Hurrying along the front path carrying three heavy bags of shopping, my toe caught on a small bump and I stumbled; the shopping bags obeyed Newton’s 1st and continued hurrying forward.
I did that thing where you trip and stumble forward trying to get your feet back under your centre of mass, but the bags were in the way preventing me making that step; I fell forward, mostly onto the bags of shopping, but as my hands went down to try to break my fall, two fingers (ring and little/pinky) on my left hand caught on a stone step and were bent forcibly in a direction fingers are not meant to bend.
On trying to get up, I saw my little finger was dislocated in two places - sticking upwards and looking very crooked. I pulled it and felt the dislocated joints pop back into place.
It seemed to function reasonably normally but hurt pretty badly so I went to A&E to get it checked out; x rays revealed that I snapped the end off one of the bones, but when I resolved the dislocation (which I later learned you’re not really meant to attempt on your own), I had happened to set the broken bone properly.
Ring finger didn’t seem to suffer so much damage but today there’s a lot of really angry looking bruising and some swelling; I have to keep those two fingers bandaged together to limit their movement; in a week or so I have an appointment to get a splint made and fitted until it heals (6 to 8 weeks if all goes right).
On the plus side, somehow the eggs and various things in glass jars in the shopping bags were undamaged; only a couple of potatoes got crushed, by my knee I think.
Sorry! I’ve only probably broken a toe or two, and some teeth. Heal well!
63 and no broken bones. Stitches, however — sheese, don’t ask!
- I ride dirt bikes and mountain bikes. 12 yo, already 6’ tall, was tripped on the basketball court and broke my forearm. Then: both collarbones, one leg, multiple ribs, bruised kidneys (that rang the pain bell), now ruptured quad tendon (another high ringer, but brief). And a toe.
Absolutely fucked up my left arm at 6. We had invented a game called “Bronco,” which amounted to one kid being on one side of a see saw while a half dozen kids one the other side whipped it up and down as hard as possible. I was very good at this game until they finally got me to fly high in the air and come down sticking my left arm out to the impact.
The result was that my arm had gained an entirely new joint, halfway up my forearm where it bent at a ninety degree angle outward. It then bent back in at the wrist, also broken. I found I could not straighten it, and my friends also admitted they didn’t know how to fix it. So I walked up to a teacher, who freaked the absolute fuck out, as you might imagine.
Oddly, rather than calling am ambulance, they called my mom, who came over with my grandmother and they drove me to the hospital to have it fixed. I honestly don’t remember it hurting.
Anyway, I’ve never broken anything since.
Forearm, collarbone, collarbone was my opening sequence as well. Same collarbone too, it has a gnarly knot where the bone didn’t exactly align after the second break.
At that age, I am surprised that at least one kid wasn’t willing to at least give it an honest try.
At 31 I broke a metacarpal. I’ve also had three spinal surgeries that altered bones, including three transplants from cadavers.
I’ve done that exact thing and your description of it was PTSD inspiring. Get well.
54, a 50 h.p. outboard motor fell on my left hand. Found out a month or so later that the bone from wrist to ring finger had been broken.
At 15 I tried to get the doctor to cauterize my nose due to bad nosebleeds. He didn’t want to do it, said it looked like my nose had been broken and had set crookedly, but never was officially confirmed. I didn’t like his idea of re-breaking my nose and resetting it.
There’s a line in the movie Notting Hill:
Then I’m gonna tell you a story that will make your balls shrink to the size of raisins
I think I just got told that story.
j
BTW, I have also relocated my own dislocated little finger. I think that accounts for at least part of the shrinkage.
Good luck there @Mangetout.
I somehow missed this thread when it was fresh.
At age 13 I was riding a dirt motorcycle and my brother on a similar bike collided with me from behind. Snapped my left tibia and fibula in a couple places and I had a new 45-degree bend mid-span of my lower leg. Ouch.
Healed up fine, albeit quite slowly. Six months in various hard casts, I wasn’t walking well for over a year, and still limped a bit 5 years later. Seems to have given me no trouble since about age 20.
Given that I was a slow healer at age 13 ferchrissakes, I’ve been very, very cautious about my bones ever since. Now at 65 that’s my one and only break. I hope to keep that record unblemished going forward.
14 years old. Broken left radius. PE class, screwing around, chin-up bars. Was in an above-the-elbow wrist-bent casts over Christmas Break. When I also had the mumps. And it was the only time it had snowed in my hometown at Christmas in forever and I was stuck in bed with everything.
Not a Merry Christmas.
My latest official broken bone. Last night, right arm near the wrist. Mountain biking was the culprit. Now the fun part comes on Monday, when I have to drive home in my manual transmission truck. Mostly highway miles at least.
I’m 72 and I’ve never broken a bone. I’m just naturally cautious and don’t care for physical activities. I also have good instincts when I start to fall.
Worst was a sprained ankle when I was in high school. It kept me off the soccer team, which is probably just as well, since I wasn’t likely to play anyway.