There was a hornet’s nest in the clothesline pole that the bigger kids would clang and then run. At age three the part about running escaped me. When they cut my shirt off there were still live hornets on me.
At age four I was hit by a car. This was before insurance was legally required, and it was my fault anyway, so he bought me a Tonka truck.
At six I fell most of the way out of a pear tree, but my wrist caught in the crotch of the tree, which was a good foot before I would have hit the ground.
The car that hit me at age eight was an old Ford Falcon. It had a stylized chrome beak on the hood ornament that tore open my skull. Knowing I shouldn’t be moved before the ambulance arrived, my mom brought a sofa cushion out into the street, which was saturated with blood by the time I was taken away.
That’s four I can remember. There were probably more, but the head trauma in #4 may have erased their memories. I admit that, as a middle-child from a large family, I enjoyed being fussed over, especially since popsicles were often a benificence. But I always denied my family’s acusations that I’d staged these incidents for attention, since no sane child would go to such lengths. Of course they would counter that sanity had no place in these occurrances.
I never thought much of any of this, but I’ve encountered people who, as children, had never experienced a trip to the emergency room. So what was your ER tally?
Slipped on my house’s very slick hardwood floors while running in socks. Slammed, chin first, into a nail that worked it’s way up from the floor. Needed stiches. Age 4 or 5.
Was playing ice bowling (for those that don’t know, it involves several people being “pins” on the ice, while another is the ball and slids into them. I, again, went down chin first into the ice. Again, I needed stiches. I think I was 7.
Was sleding at a large hill in my town. I went over a jump on the hill, the sled went out from under me, and I landed back first on a hard patch of ice. Broke my coller bone. Age 10.
That’s all I remember (actually, I don’t remember the second one, my parents told me about it, and I vaugley remember some kind of ankle problem.)
Lots and lots, mostly because there were no HMOs when I was small, although I don’t remember most of the trips.
Before the age of 6 every visit to see my Uncle in VT included an e.r. pit stop for an ear infection. My parents liked to claim that I was “allergic to VT” but since I was succeptable to ear infections anyway, the pressure changes must have hurt enough to alert me and them of the problem. This probably happened 6-10 times.
When I was a little over a year old, my parents left me with a sitter for a couple of days. While I was at the sitter’s another, older kid (apparently, since one-year-olds aren’t very dexterous and the sitter wasn’t insane) put a rubber band around my chubby neck. My parents only discovered it when they gave me a bath after bringing me home. Since it had cut my neck and begun to heal, it had to be cut out by a doctor. I still have the scar.
I got something stuck up my nose as a toddler.
The only event I actually remember before age 10 (but if you extended it to 12…) was when I was six and put my hand through a storm door. No stitches. That time. If you have glass doors, please please please keep your kids from pushing on the pane to shut the door. Even though it was more than 20 years ago, I still clearly remember being mad that my mom told me to stay in or stay out and angrily pushing too hard on the glass. I have that scar too.
When I was two or so I had to get stitches in my forehead after running into a wall. I think I went to my regular doctor’s office but it would have been an ER visit if it hadn’t been his office hours.
The Little Lagomorph has been to the ER 3 times and he is four and a half. All three times for digestive related disorders. Not fun.
Slithy Tove you were hit by cars twice before the age of ten? And you’re still alive?
Age 4 - split on a highly polished floor at a wedding, taken to casualty (ER) for treatment for concussion.
Age 6 - went over the handle bars of my bike, split my head open, trip to ER for stitches.
Age 7: Slipt on frost, fractured wrist.
Age 7 and a bit: Knocked over by double decker bus, in intensive care for 12 days.
Age 9: Fell off roller skates, broke a couple of fingers, ER for X-rays and bandaging.
Age 9 and a bit: Bizarre “jumping off 12 foot wall” injury I’d rather not go into, trip to ER with suspected internal bleeding!
Age 10: Jumped into swimming pool and missed, trip to ER for stitches and treatment for head injuries.
There may be more, but I forget. My poor mother had great difficulty convincing social services that I wasn’t a battered child - just very clumsy!
Age 3: Decided to clean my ears with a Q-Tip and stuck the darn thing right, straight into my ear shattering my ear drum. Went to ER and eventually got a skin graft to rebuild the ear drum (still have the scar)
**Sometime betweer the ear drum episode and starting school: ** Suddenly couldn’t breath. Rushed to ER. Apparently, I had croup (croop?). Got to stay in a fun oxygen tent for a while. Didn’t want to leave.
**Age 5: ** Coming home from kindergarten and I got a paper cut on my eye. Got to wear a cool pirate patch for a while. Age 6: Decided to plug in the Christmas tree while mom was downstairs changing a fuse. Giant blue flame shot out of the electric socket burning my fingers and singing off my eyebrows and eye lashes. Hid in the bathroom when mom can running upstairs (she heard screams). Told mom (through the bathroom door) that my brother did it. Couldn’t fool mom–the stench of burning child was coming through the bathroom door!
**Age 7: ** Bad car accident. Broke both legs and had some internal injuries. Don’t remember a whole lot about being in the hospital.
Other than the car accident and the croup, all ER trips were due to me being a dork. I’m surprised I survived childhood. I think my parents aged 20 years each during my first 10!
I’ve only been to the ER once, when I was 15. I was at a summer camp in Quebec, and they kept telling us “Don’t drink the water, there’s chloroforms and they’ll make you sick”. So I didn’t drink the water.
Mid-week I came down with a virus that caused the same thing :rolleyes: Woke up unable to stop puking (I actually stopped when I left for the hospital) and spent the day there. I got Jell-O though. Which was a definite relief after the horrid food we were being served.
Once, when I was about 8. Fell off a curb into a pickup tailgate and cut my forehead, needed a couple of stitches.
The next time I saw an ER as a patient was at age 39 when I broke my arm. I only went in because it was swollen and I couldn’t hold a beer. Ever tried to open a bottle of beer with only one hand?
(Note to radiology techs - when the patient says, “I’m sorry, but I can’t straighten my arm that way.” believe them. Do not push down on the arm and make the patient remind you that he has one good arm which is perfectly capable of knocking your ass down.)
There was other stuff where I should have gone, but I grew up in a family that had always lived in small towns that didn’t have hospitals, so you were pretty much expected to just walk it off. I got some neat scars though.
Age really really little - taken to ER with severe stomach troubles. Diagnosed as lactose-intolerant and allergic to apple juice. (yeah, my parents had fun feeding me as a little kid…).
Age 6 or so: Taken to ER early one Saturday morning with a fever of nearly 107. Pneumonia, given a healthy dose of whatever they use against that, sent home to sleep.
Age 8: Already was in the hospital, but had some “nearly-serious” reactions to one of the anesthetics given to me for surgery. Have absolutely no memory of an entire week of my life (knocked out, surgery, got sick, slept for the next week).
Age 12: car accident, taken to ER to get checked out. They pulled a shard of glass out of my leg, but I didn’t need stitches, somehow. Also, probably had a pretty bad concussion, but I lied to the EMTs, said I didn’t black out and didn’t have a headache.
There’ve been a couple incidents since then when I probably should’ve gone to the ER, but I firmly believe that, unless I’m literally dying from a serious injury/illness, I’m not going to bog down the system.
Once when I was around 2, when my brother threw a towel in the air hitting me on the head. Shaved & stitched up.
Once when I was about 4, when I fell off my bike and put a hole in my leg that required thirteen stitches to close.
There were several more times I probably should have gone to the ER, but didn’t because I’m stupid, including the time when I was 10 or so that I nearly cut off my left thumb.
One, as far as I can remember. Age three or four, decided to shove a large bead up my nose for no discernable reason.
Possibly two, come to think of it – I did have to get stitches after a playground stampede when I was about six, but I can’t remember whether there was an actual emergency room visit involved or they just took me to the regular doctor.
Only once: two months before I turned 5 I was treated for shock when our apartment building burned down. Taken away in an ambulance and everything. Of course, I was fine by the time we reached the ER.
I think I’ve only been to an ER one other time in my life: I scratched my eye once while I was in college, in the middle of the night apparently, and it hurt so much in the morning that I got a ride to the ER from the first person I came across who had 4-wheel drive (there was a big snowstorm in PA at the time). Had to wear a patch for about a week. Arr, matey!
I’ve been to emergency rooms for friends a number of times, and even volunteered in an emergency room for a while shortly after college, but I think two trips for myself in 33 years isn’t too bad (I am crossing my fingers and knocking on wood as I type… :eek: )
0-3 years: I can remember my mum telling me that I used to faint a lot. That may have involved a trip to the ER.
4 years: Tripped on a beanbag in school, went head first into the corner of a table. Probably wouldn’t have needed stitches if the school nurse hadn’t held the wound open and dabbed it with dry cotton wool :eek:
5-8 years: Fell from a climbing frame (the slide part) and broke my arm. Didn’t realise it was broken until my mum did the usual “mum check-up” to see where I was hurt and my arm went Crack!
8-10 years: Didn’t actually go to the ER for this one, but it was only because mum knew the Children’s Ward was nearer. Had a tonsilectomy a few weeks earlier that had obviously had complications. Mum walked into the bathroom to find her little baby and a sink full of spat out blood (TMI anyone?). Ambulance? Oh no. My nan picked us up and off we went to (Montgomery?) Ward. Last thing I can remember was throwing up more blood that I had swallowed and that the nurse couldn’t find a vein. Still have a scar in my hand where the needles were put in.
I think that’s it. I’m quite shocked I was in hospital that much.
)