Well, I broke my foot in meditation class. The only bone I’ve ever broken.
I guess this is as close as I’m going to get to having a thread about me…
- 1964, and the older woman I’m seeing (I’m 6, she’s 7) convinces me to come ride bikes down the sledding hill. The city had laid telephone poles across the hill in order to discourage activities like this. However, there were gaps between the poles which a really good rider could hit. I was not a really good rider. I did an endo which caused a massive head wound (helmets did not exist back then) and a coma which lasted 2 days. Nowadays my daughter likes to point out the scar tissue on top of my head where hair won’t grow.
- Later, at 10, I truly entered my idiot phase. I wanted to know what was inside golf balls. I spent hours unwinding the rubberband-like strings. Finally, one day I wanted to see what was in the rubber ball that was the core of the golf ball. I put it in a vise and jabbed at it with a knife. It exploded and shot it’s liquid center right into my eye. In the emergency room they had to scrape the stuff out. I ended up with 3 stitches on my eyeball.
- I don’t even want to talk about my teens…
I’ve been relatively lucky, I guess. I’ve never broken a bone or had a major injury, but I have had quite a few scrapes and strains.
I don’t remember this, but I’ve been told I fell down a flight of stairs into the basement when I was two. Still have a scar across my forehead from that.
Age 8 or so, my older brother and I decide to have a bike race around the block. I start in one direction, he goes off the other (I was too stupid and/or trusting to realize that he was probably going to cheat…). Now mind you, this was the opposite direction of what I usually rode, and the sidewalks were not always level. At about the halfway point or so, I hit a bump in the walk, and got knocked off my bike. Got a concussion and a day or two in the hospital for that.
Many, many moons later, I was helping disassemble a large metal carousel that held microfiche records for a banking center. I was trying to loosen a bolt on one large section when my wrench slips, and i cut my hand on the shrp edge of the metal. It didn’t look to bad, and didn’t hurt until I went to wash it off. When the water hit my hand I nearly passed out, and after recovering I realized that the gash was actually a lot deeper than it had first seemed. Five stitches, and I still have the scar from that, too.
I burned myself on the wrist with a cigarette once (on purpose). Suffice it to say that I was really drunk, and very depressed at the time.
In the near miss department, I have a couple of good ones: I practice aikido, a defensive martial art. We do lots of falls and rolls. When you roll, you don’t do a summersault so much as extend and arm, and roll your body over the arm, and across your back, coming back to your feet. Unfortunately, one time when I had just started, I got thrown pretty fast, and apparently forgot the whole “extend your arm” thing, and wound up extending my chin down to the floor. My head bounced a couple of times as the rest of my body continued to be hurled forward, but fortunately didn’t break my neck. I did see stars for a while after that, though. Another time (when I had more experience, and should have known better) I was being thrown, and rolled out of the technique perfectly, but as I was coming out of it, and starting to stand back up, my body was leaning to the left, but my leg below the knee was going off to the right. I had to stop moving immediately and knock my knee back into place before it dislocated itself (or worse - probably could have broken it if I had put any weight on it).
One more martial arts related story. This one didn’t happen to me, but it’s too good not to share:
I was attending an iaido (the art of sword drawing) seminar one time when the instructor realted how he was practicing in Japan once with a group that used live blades. Live as in so sharp they could cut you in two without really even trying. You’ll need to know that Japanese sword have only one sharp edge, and they are always carried in the sheath on the left-hand side with the blade facing up. They had just finished a form, and were re-sheathing their blades when he heard a plop-plop-plop-plop. He looked over and realized that the person beside him, when putting his sword away hadn’t kept the blade down on the bottom of the sheaths opening, and his sword had cut through the sheath and all four fingers of his left hand. They promptly wrapped them up and left for the hospital, and IIRC, they were able to reattach them all.
Let that be a lesson to you, kids - Don’t Play With Sharp Objects!
I had just finished refueling a Fed Ex Caravan (a large single engine turbo-prop, for those who don’t know) at about 4am and, after carefully placing the fuel receipt on the captain’s seat, I closed the door and proceeded to walk directly into one of the props. Cut me a nice gash on the bridge of my nose and upper cheek. At least it wasn’t running. Ironically, the tail number was N911FE. :smack:
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When I was 4 years old, I was walking/playing around my mom’s office while she was in a reunion late at night. I went to a part of the office that was under restoration. I remember the door had these steel, sharp frame, but nothing more. Next thing I remember, I’m walking towards mom, at the end of the reunion, with a bloody finger…I wasn’t crying, I felt no pain. Mom and a friend left with me to the nearest ER. I remember mom tried to put a yellow paper napkin to stop the hemorrhage… I remember being admitted to the ER, and watching the surgery to sew my finger…I remember seeing a piece of my own bone. :eek: 4 stitches on the finger. I don’t remember which finger or which hand, but I’m sure there’s a picture about that somewhere.
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The longest-running self-inflicted wounds were the ones on my knees from the age of 4-5 until 9. I am clumsy, and each time I fell I scrapped my knees.
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When I started to shave my legs, I shaved pieces of skin now and then…the worst being a about an inch and a half long piece of skin I shaved…It was big enough that I could take it off the blade. I think the scar is (faintly) there. That experience is one of the reasons I seldom shave my legs now.
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In the first semester of Chemistry lab (last year), I burned my arm handling a hot ceramic vase. If I said something, I would get points deducted…so I just tried to ignore it and go on with the second-degree burn that I got. Scar is still there.
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When I was a senior in high school, mom went to visit her dad and left me alone with mine. He is clumsy too, and gets mad when his children express their clumsiness. A neighbor prepared some meat pie, and dad put it on the oven to heat. When I took my slice, I touched the hot food and hot metal…I felt pain and scraped off the food…the filling of the food itself was flesh-colored…it took me a while before I realized that I was scraping off not the filling, but the skin that protected the burn bubble I had on my finger. :smack: I kept the infected burn a secret (at least to my dad, my classmates knew) until mom came back. The scar has almost faded.
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Second semester chemistry lab (last spring), our labs didn’t have a clear schedule, but you had to finish all of them by a certain date…and I knew I was behind. So in many cases, I just dipped my fingers (knowingly) in part of the acidic or basic solutions to verify which one was the acid, which one was the base. I also picked up hot stuff with my bare hands instead of using tongs. By the end of that semester, I had yellow and brown hands with peeled skin and burnt fingers. One time my TA saw my hands…she had a mini panic.
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On said lab (but this was an accident), I was opening my locker, which was the one nearest to the floor. TA called us to come to her desk immediately, so I quickly got up…in the process my left knee hit the metal lock of another locker. I limped the rest of the class, and for the first hour or so thought I only had a really bad bruise. Later, I noticed it was mushy…and I couldn’t get out because I needed to finish the lab. When the class ended, I went outside and folded up the jean leg to see the bruise. It wasn’t a bruise, it was mushy because there was blood. Worse, the cloth had already stuck to the wound. There were minor bruises around, but the main one was bad…and infected. Oh, and I had a couple of other classes, so I couldn’t leave for home. I still have the scar of that one, right above my left knee.
Popped my knee to the back of my leg during a patient transfer.
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When I was 4 years old, I was walking/playing around my mom’s office while she was in a reunion late at night. I went to a part of the office that was under restoration. I remember the door had these steel, sharp frame, but nothing more. Next thing I remember, I’m walking towards mom, at the end of the reunion, with a bloody finger…I wasn’t crying, I felt no pain. Mom and a friend left with me to the nearest ER. I remember mom tried to put a yellow paper napkin to stop the hemorrhage… I remember being admitted to the ER, and watching the surgery to sew my finger…I remember seeing a piece of my own bone. :eek: 4 stitches on the finger. I don’t remember which finger or which hand, but I’m sure there’s a picture about that somewhere.
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The longest-running self-inflicted wounds were the ones on my knees from the age of 4-5 until 9. I am clumsy, and each time I fell I scrapped my knees.
-
When I started to shave my legs, I shaved pieces of skin now and then…the worst being a about an inch and a half long piece of skin I shaved…It was big enough that I could take it off the blade. I think the scar is (faintly) there. That experience is one of the reasons I seldom shave my legs now.
-
In the first semester of Chemistry lab (last year), I burned my arm handling a hot ceramic vase. If I said something, I would get points deducted…so I just tried to ignore it and go on with the second-degree burn that I got. Scar is still there.
-
When I was a senior in high school, mom went to visit her dad and left me alone with mine. He is clumsy too, and gets mad when his children express their clumsiness. A neighbor prepared some meat pie, and dad put it on the oven to heat. When I took my slice, I touched the hot food and hot metal…I felt pain and scraped off the food…the filling of the food itself was flesh-colored…it took me a while before I realized that I was scraping off not the filling, but the skin that protected the burn bubble I had on my finger. :smack: I kept the infected burn a secret (at least to my dad, my classmates knew) until mom came back. The scar has almost faded.
-
Second semester chemistry lab (last spring), our labs didn’t have a clear schedule, but you had to finish all of them by a certain date…and I knew I was behind. So in many cases, I just dipped my fingers (knowingly) in part of the acidic or basic solutions to verify which one was the acid, which one was the base. I also picked up hot stuff with my bare hands instead of using tongs. By the end of that semester, I had yellow and brown hands with peeled skin and burnt fingers. One time my TA saw my hands…she had a mini panic.
-
On said lab (but this was an accident), I was opening my locker, which was the one nearest to the floor. TA called us to come to her desk immediately, so I quickly got up…in the process my left knee hit the metal lock of another locker. I limped the rest of the class, and for the first hour or so thought I only had a really bad bruise. Later, I noticed it was mushy…and I couldn’t get out because I needed to finish the lab. When the class ended, I went outside and folded up the jean leg to see the bruise. It wasn’t a bruise, it was mushy because there was blood. Worse, the cloth had already stuck to the wound. There were minor bruises around, but the main one was bad…and infected. Oh, and I had a couple of other classes, so I couldn’t leave for home. I still have the scar of that one, right above my left knee.
-
When I was 4 years old, I was walking/playing around my mom’s office while she was in a reunion late at night. I went to a part of the office that was under restoration. I remember the door had these steel, sharp frame, but nothing more. Next thing I remember, I’m walking towards mom, at the end of the reunion, with a bloody finger…I wasn’t crying, I felt no pain. Mom and a friend left with me to the nearest ER. I remember mom tried to put a yellow paper napkin to stop the hemorrhage… I remember being admitted to the ER, and watching the surgery to sew my finger…I remember seeing a piece of my own bone. :eek: 4 stitches on the finger. I don’t remember which finger or which hand, but I’m sure there’s a picture about that somewhere.
-
The longest-running self-inflicted wounds were the ones on my knees from the age of 4-5 until 9. I am clumsy, and each time I fell I scrapped my knees.
-
When I started to shave my legs, I shaved pieces of skin now and then…the worst being a about an inch and a half long piece of skin I shaved…It was big enough that I could take it off the blade. I think the scar is (faintly) there. That experience is one of the reasons I seldom shave my legs now.
-
In the first semester of Chemistry lab (last year), I burned my arm handling a hot ceramic vase. If I said something, I would get points deducted…so I just tried to ignore it and go on with the second-degree burn that I got. Scar is still there.
-
When I was a senior in high school, mom went to visit her dad and left me alone with mine. He is clumsy too, and gets mad when his children express their clumsiness. A neighbor prepared some meat pie, and dad put it on the oven to heat. When I took my slice, I touched the hot food and hot metal…I felt pain and scraped off the food…the filling of the food itself was flesh-colored…it took me a while before I realized that I was scraping off not the filling, but the skin that protected the burn bubble I had on my finger. :smack: I kept the infected burn a secret (at least to my dad, my classmates knew) until mom came back. The scar has almost faded.
-
Second semester chemistry lab (last spring), our labs didn’t have a clear schedule, but you had to finish all of them by a certain date…and I knew I was behind. So in many cases, I just dipped my fingers (knowingly) in part of the acidic or basic solutions to verify which one was the acid, which one was the base. I also picked up hot stuff with my bare hands instead of using tongs. By the end of that semester, I had yellow and brown hands with peeled skin and burnt fingers. One time my TA saw my hands…she had a mini panic.
-
On said lab (but this was an accident), I was opening my locker, which was the one nearest to the floor. TA called us to come to her desk immediately, so I quickly got up…in the process my left knee hit the metal lock of another locker. I limped the rest of the class, and for the first hour or so thought I only had a really bad bruise. Later, I noticed it was mushy…and I couldn’t get out because I needed to finish the lab. When the class ended, I went outside and folded up the jean leg to see the bruise. It wasn’t a bruise, it was mushy because there was blood. Worse, the cloth had already stuck to the wound. There were minor bruises around, but the main one was bad…and infected. Oh, and I had a couple of other classes, so I couldn’t leave for home. I still have the scar of that one, right above my left knee.
I apologize for the double post and blame the hamsters…
I have a crescent-shaped scar on the pad of my right thumb. I got it while working for an independent contractor.
We were replacing windows in this house, and had to scrape the old, dried, cracked glazing putty away before removing the old windows.
For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to
a) use my razor-sharp utility knife to do it and
b) brace my thumb against the wall under the window while digging with my knife.
Knife slips and blade embeds itself into thumb. Bled like crazy. Needed stitches, but didn’t get them, managed to have it heal properly anyway. Had my thumb bandaged for what seemed like weeks.
I managed to jab a sword through the index toe on my left foot, while wearing steel-toed boots. Ironically, I had said, “Watch this,” literally a fraction of a second before driving the blade completely through. I removed it without reacting, or receiving any reaction from my large audience, handed it to a friend, and asked, “Is there any blood on the blade?” He did not answer me. I had to ask it three more times before he answered in the affirmative. I took the boot off. Whoops, blood on the sock. Took the sock off. Whoops. Clean, even gash that appeared to go all the way through my toe. Still remarkably calm. I began cleaning the blood off the wound with the sock. A guy who had been watching the whole operation from “Watch this” to emergency medical care chose this point to pipe up. “Wow, man. That sock is totally ruined.” Cracked me up.
I still can’t feel the tip of that toe, and the nail looks really screwed up. The exit wound can’t really be seen anymore. I never got proper medical attention, but cleaned and bandaged it meticulously. It seems to have healed, but I know that I’m destined to lose a toe at this point.
Well, being a child of the 80’s, the curling iron was a must use tool. I managed to burn my forehead numerous times with that thing!
I was playing with a penknife. It was open and I was bouncing it off my jeans, carefully. I got careless and stabbed myself in the knee. Okay, it didn’t even draw much blood, but it hurt. It also freaked me out, because I stabbed myself in the leg with a knife. The force of the words alone would be enough to make me shiver in ouch.
Unless there’s some dead person about to post, I think I got the worst.
I handed my .45 long Colt revolver to a “friend” of mine. He handed it back to me in the holster, COCKED. This antique revolver of course has no safety! Loaded w/ semi-wadcutter hollowpoints. My ears rang as the shot went through my stomach and exited a half inch to the right of my spine.
It put a hole the size of my fist all the way through me. I lost 12 lbs. of intestines right then. (Hell of a diet don’t try it)
Funny thing, it didn’t start hurting 'til about an hour later. I actually drove myself to the hospital! Everyone was so freaked out I couldn’t wait for them to catch their snap. The hospital was only five minutes away.
I stuffed a towel in the hole and hauled ass. (I was surprised there wasn’t more blood) I walked into the ER and…well it just gets better and better. Actually had to wait two hours for a doctor to show up, while the police played 20 questions. Finally a DR. showed up and gave me something for pain.
I guess I got lucky though. Nothing vital was hit and two weeks later I was home.
Well, I’ve had plenty of accidents, but I think I’ll share my aunt’s tale… She certainly takes the cake for Darwin Awards… She was in a hotel room, and needed to iron her clothes… so she lays one of her clothes over her leg and starts to iron… Not too bad, right? Well, then she hits the “steam” button… She still has a perfect, iron shaped scar on her leg…
When I was eight years old, I cut myself with a piece of tin-foil. I still have a scar on my finger.
:eek:
Damn, I hope I didn’t scare y’all off…
Wow, reading this has reminded me of so man…
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I was fixing up a rent house and didn’t have a plane to shave off the edge of a door I was hanging. Being the wise guy that I am, I pulled out my trusty razor knife. A few seconds later and swish the knife slips off the door and the fat pad behind my index finger on the palm of my other hand. I still have a nice scar there.
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As an idiot youth I once decided I would take up ‘whittling’. so I had a 2x2 piece of white pine that I was using to whittle a wooden chain. Have you ever seen those? they’re pretty cool. Well I was using an old piece of shit pocket knife with no locking blade. I hit a small knot hole, and Snap!!. The damn thing snapped shut on my right hand index finger. I have a nice little scar there too, plus I now get the benefit of not being able to make a closed fist with that hand because that finger won’t bend close anymore.
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Idiot youth again… I walked out of the campus library where I was going to college and hopped on the down escalator. Half way down I remember that I left my calculator in the library where I was doing homework. I think to myself, I’ll just turn around real quick and run back up the escalator. Well, I was wearing those crappy deck shoes with no traction on them at all. As soon as I started back up the stairs, i slipped and bashed my knee into the edge of the escalator stairs. Damn that hurt. In just a couple of seconds, my pant leg was completely soaked with blood. I have a series of little bitty scars from that.
And finally, here’s the “COOP DE GRACIE”. My lovely wife of 20 years now had a seizure at the top of our stairs, and tumbled down to the bottom of the stairs breaking both of her ankles. Shattering them is more like it… as she was in a wheel chair for like six months or something. This is the same woman who was having a nightmare, and while flailing her arms, hooked the cord of the alarm clock, yanking it off the dresser and smashing it right into her eye leaving a nice gash. I’m sure everyone at her work thinks I beat her.
yea yea, blame the clock huh!
I can hear her now…no really, I really did fall down the stairs.
She hasn’t run into any doors lately has she?
:D