What’s your most memorable kid-hood injury? I have two:
Playing hide and seek in the dark, falling in front of someone running toward me and having my nose jammed into his kneecap.
Going over a ramp on my 2,000 year-old bike and having the front tire fall off mid-air. Picture the front forks embedding themselves about three feet into the ground and me being catapulted a very impressive heighth into the air.
Breaking my wrist trying to lift weights over my head.
I was 16 years old, and watching a dead-lifting competition on TV. Then I got the brilliant idea: “I wonder how much weight I can lift over my head!” We had a bench and barbells downstairs which no one ever used. I put two 25-lb. weights on the 45-lb. barbell. I get it up to my waist. No problem. I get it up to my chest. Easy. I get it above my head! Wow! I’m doing it! However…
The part I forgot to do is throw one leg behind me to balance me. So I end up falling backwards with the barbell. My left hand slips off and that side hits the ground. However, my right elbow hits the ground, with my forearm perpendicular to the ground. Ninety-five pounds of weight fall onto my hand, snapping it all the way back. :eek:
The barbell is over my neck, so I have to lift it off with my broken wrist. Ow. My parents aren’t home, and my brother is upstairs sleeping. He always had a red-hot temper, and if I woke him, no matter what for, I was sure he would yell at me and call me stupid. I notice my wrist beginning to swell, and I’m sitting there trying to convince myself that the pain will go away in a little bit. It doesn’t. I call 911.
An ambulance comes and the drive and stand there about 10 minutes chatting while I’m sitting on the bumper of the ambulance in my underwear. We finally get to the hospital, X-rays and whatnot are done, and my parents come.
I spent the best summer of my life in a cast that goes from my hand to my shoulder.
Adam
I run through a thick glass door, and le te me clarify this from the beggining, when you see some fellow going through a glass on the movies you really don´t get the impression that a thick glass can knock you pretty hard in return.
Anyway, I run down a flight of stairs and I saw the door closed about 4 meters before impact, I planted my feet but the inertia and low-friction ceramic floor made up for a short but spectacular slide; I was told by witnesses that I actually left an Ale shaped silouhette on the door moments before it broke appart. Meanwhile I was airborne and in a short ballistic trayectory when things got real rough, you see, behind the door there was another set of stairs, and if there´s something worse than bouncing your way down a stair, it´s bouncing your way down a stair freshly sprinkled with razor sharp glass shards.
All things considered I was lucky, I only have about a dozen, rather small permanent scars around my anatomy, a few rather shagged ones on my right wrist complete with a little piece of glass still embebed in after 10 or 12 years to remind me about the thing.
The morality of the story is, don´t run toward glass doors.
When about six years old decided that it would be really cool to ride a sheep. Ride, not mount, damn it! Forgot that when one sheep runs off bleating in terror all the other sheep run off in the same direction bleating in terror and inquiry. Fell off. All the rest of flock ran over fallen sheep rider. The have sharp little feet. Mercurochrome applied with small brush.
One of my earliest childhood memories was running through the house; with turkey skewers (ya know, those metal thingies that our Mommies used to lace up the turkey with?)
My brother was chasing me, and I playing the part of a dinosour, with the turkey skewers serving as fangs or some such. The skewers were placed in my mouth, fang-like; and I was running pell-mell to keep away from my brother. One of the skewers fell out of my mouth, and pierced my foot.
I got chewed out by the ER doctor, my mother and my father. My brother could barely contain his laughter. Running with scissors could only be an improvement…
In my defense, I was only four years old at the time.
Most of my dumb injuries have taken place during adulthood.
:o
:smack:
In a similar vein, I was disappointed in how apparently inefficient my bike’s brake were. So I rigged up a system that would poke a piece of meccano into the spokes when you pull on a lever. That, I figured, would stop me far better than some stupid little rubber pads. I was wrong. It did stop the bike very quickly though.
I was 7 or 8. I was at the local playground. The old school style where death and dismemberment were just seconds away.
It had see saws made from huge planks which were covered in very thick (and probably lead based) paint. The surfaces were slick. I decided that it would be a good idea to walk up one side of the see saw while bouncing one of those big red rubber playground balls. I got almost to the fulcrum when I slipped and landed chest first on said fulcrum (a 4" diameter steel pipe).
I was knocked out. I remember waking up a few minutes later being carried home by someone. I was okay the next day, though.
Problem: frisbee stuck in tree
Solution of 8 year old kids: throw hunks of cement from nearby dilapitated driveway into tree from all direction.
Result: hunk of cement landing on my head requiring 6 stitches
You guys are all pikers when it comes to dumb. And I wasn’t even a child, or at least not a really young child.
When I was a SENIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL I went out to the local Plowing Match (read County Fair) where there were some milking machines on display and one was operating. I wondered what one sounded like so I put the cup up to my ear and BANG! out went the ear drum.
Doing a cartwheel off a broken trampoline (one of those mini one-person ones) and breaking my wrist.
I knew it was broken. One of the legs was a coffee can.
*Breaking my wrist when the thing tipped over as I bounced off of it.
3 yrs old: throwing hatchet which lands on my foot.
10 yrs old: shoving scissors through my thumb, all the way through.
14 yrs old: jumping off of barn, snapping ankle like a Ken doll.
18 yrs old: shoving metal spike all the way through my foot.
3 of 4 involve major blood letting. Good times.
When I was very young, my mother had just turned off a stove burner and I watched it fade from red to black. So, I immediately put my hand on it to verify that indeed it was now cold.
And then there was the attempt to jump onto the moving swingset glider (one of those kids’ swingset pieces – the two-seater). Another kid was on it, standing – I tried jumping on and gashed my leg, requiring stitches. Still have a small visible scar.
And then in about 7th or 8th grade, there was the time I was running around with brother and neighbor at the end of my street, waiting for the school bus. Jumped the ditch, running, and a few steps out into the street – where I hear a horn blare, look left, and see a car swerving left to avoid me. My momentum carried me into the back end of the car as it went past. Spun me around, and I fell down and hit my head. But no damage. (So I suppose it doesn’t really count as an injury). So the way I like to tell it, “I ran over a moving car… (on foot).”
But I never broke any bones as a kid. First (and only) broken bone was two years ago. Pinkie toe.
I was riding my friend’s scooter (just a push model, like a skateboard with handlebars) and I stopped to wait for my friend who was on my bike.
Stopped… stood there for a second… fell over. Broke my left arm. I wasn’t even moving!
OooooK, I think we have a good candidate here! 
me (8-10 years old): :throws plastic boomerang:
kid (somewhat younger): “does it actually come back sometimes?”
me: :turns towards kid: “Hmm? Oh yes definitely. If you throw it right.”
kid: “Cool.”
me: “Oh yeah, I just threw a boomerang. Now where is that thing?”
me: :turns head:
me: :thud: “Ow!”
me: :bleeds from top of scalp:
kid: “Are you ok?”
me: :falls down … laughing!: “Yes! This was just too funny.”
(This is, btw, one of the last chapters of 7 in which Arwin got a temporary extra hole in his head)
I can remember being little and bugging my mum about the cooker. She (in her infinite wisdom) told me I could touch the hob. Let’s just say it was never done again.
If you count 19 as a childhood age. I jumped off a first floor (second floor for you Yanks) balcony. Why? It was my birthday. 
One of my earliest memories is going out to play with my brother in a house that we moved from when I was four. I noticed there was a space between the door and the doorjam when it was opened, and wondered what would happen if I put my little finger in it. I did so, my brother slammed the door, and I lost the end of the finger.
Pretending to knife-fight in front of a mirror, and pulling this oh-so-tricky move which entailed masking the knife with my free hand before whipping it out of the way and stabbing at the same time… of doubtful utility in the first place, and still less when I didn’t get my left hand out of the way in time. I still have the scar thirty years on :smack:
In second place: Pumping up a kerosene-burning storm lantern and steadying it with my left hand on top of the metal chimney. It was just shy of red hot. This stunt makes it into second place only because it left no permanent mark. In terms of pain, it won hands down.