People Are Telling Stories About When Their Injury Was "Tis But a Scratch"

Oh I have so many of these as a medical zebra plus bring a clumsy mess!! One of my favorite stories is from when I was in the musical "Oliver!" as Nancy, the girl who loses her life while saving Oliver Twist. It was during a bar scene where Nancy get's a severe beating from her boyfriend Bill Sykes because he knows she's trying to keep Oliver safe.

We had taken a long course in stage fighting, but my acting partner playing Bill Sykes and I used to take it a bit further to make it look even more real. Well, during one evening show, we took it a little too far during the biggest fight scene (there were several) and he dragged me a bit too far across the stage by the hair, and then pushed me by the head down on the floor.

I ended up gashing my hair line on a square, sharp edged footing to an outside lamp that was a part of the scenery, and everything went Black for a second or two. I then sat up, cause I had to sing Nancy's ballad while cleaning up the bar scene, and realized I had blood pouring down over my eye and I had a pretty nice double visjon.

But we were in the middle of a performance with a paying audience so I couldnt just stop and walk off or call for help, so I simply wiped the blood off of my eye to see clearer, took to the gash to figure out how big it was and did my whole song and scene shift. I fainted as soon as I was securely behind at the backstage area, but quickly got myself back up.

My head was throbbing in pain but the costume departement had someone with first aid practice and she was able to stop the bleeding and gave me a paracetamol just in time for me to get back on stage for Nancy's next scene.

Then there was the time I was in another play where a shift in scenery was done wrong so my usual path off the stage in the blackout was blocked, causing a pretty heavy fall in which I broke my wrist. It was the same costume departement on this show too, so we tore up some fabrics to act as a bandage/brace until I could get it checked.

However, this happened during the matinee and we had another show later that day so knowing our a&e was usually very busy, I decided to just swallow the pain, I tightened the rags on my wrist and I did the rest of the matinee and the whole next performance too. The orthopede guy was not pleased when he learned I had waited so long to come in, even tho things hadnt begun to set yet.

But the fracture was complicated enough that if I had fallen on it again, or slammed in into something, there could have been pretty gnarly consequences. I asked to have my cast as slim and small as possible so I could find a way to hide it or play it down during the rest of the shows.

I have a lot of injuries in my past. I have broken the most random parts of me, and my medical zebra status (Ehlers Danlos Syndrome) already is the source of a lot of pain and cause my joints to dislocate from nothing. Many of my favorite injury stories are from my life as an actress, but I've also had weird and random injuries outside of that.

Like the time I was stepping off of a bus but turned around to say goodbye to my friends and the bus driver closed the doors, pinching me at the head and thigh and then driving off with me still stuck on between the doors. That time I wasnt able to play it off like nothibg tho.

The last thing I remember was my friends screaming and then suddenly I was at home with my parents looking very distressed. I had a severe concussion and bruises I've never seen anything like before. According to my friends, the bus driver had driven a few meters before he opened the doors while still driving, basically throwing my body out on the sidewalk where my friends Said I never moved from.

The driver kept driving, apparently not giving two sh*ts about whst just happened, and my friends tore him a new one while getting his info. I also know for a fact that my parents called the bus Company and filed a massive complaint. I think the guy got fired. I just remember living in a hell for several weeks after.

As I Said I had a severe concussion, so I had to be woken up every other hour for two weeks, and I was still out of it for several weeks after those two weeks. I can go on and on about my injuries, both the horrifying ones and the lesser ones. I usually never get tired of sharing these stories, but I'll leave it to these.

Username: Lurvehue89

I used to own and run a food truck, which I was supposed to run with my sister. I was the chef, she handled the marketing. Over time, she started planning and organizing events, which was cool at first because it meant we didn't need to deal with the politics of other event organizers.

After a while though, I stopped getting paid but was still expected to work, while she kept paying herself. On top of that, she started planning events on top of events to the point that my schedule had me sleeping from 4AM to 7AM, back to the commissary, events at 9AM, commissary to prep and clean by 11AM, event at 1PM, commissary to prep and clean by 3PM, event at 6PM until about 2AM, commissary to clean and prep for the next day by 3AM if I'm lucky, then home.

Every single day. I didn't have time to get groceries, so I ate truck food. Even though my truck's menu was on the healthier side of street faire, it was still very rich and there's only so much you can eat on top of never having a day off to rest.

It all came to a head when I was working a dinner service outside of a brewery after another long day. I'd thought I had a UTI, which was bad enough, but I'd been medicating with otc stuff and trucking through it. My boyfriend came by with a friend to hang out, because that was pretty much the only time we could see each other. 10:00PM rolls around.

I made it through our dinner rush, so we were mostly just getting stragglers. My boyfriend (now husband) was talking to me and my eyes glazed over, face went pale, and I just collapsed. Fortunately for me, he worked for FritoLay at the time driving and delivering chips to grocery stores, so he was used to driving a 15' truck. Mine was 18' but he could drive it.

I woke up enough to tell the manager of the brewery that we were leaving. Boyfriend drove us to the commissary, unpacked my truck, I cleaned it. He kept insisting we had to go to the hospital, but I insisted on at least starting the prep because some things had to marinate overnight and I knew I had events the next day.

We eventually get back on the road and he takes me to the nearest ER. He stayed with me until 10 the next morning. My sister was furious because she refused to work the events, even though she could, so she decided to threaten quitting. I knew I couldn't run the business without her, so I went straight from the hospital back to the commissary.

Thing was, I didn't just have a UTI. It turned out, and I found this out that night, that I was born with fucking THREE kidneys. The UTI had agitated the third, which was wrapped around another. I needed surgery because two kidneys were failing and I was already showing signs of blood poisoning. They gave me a steroid shot and a referral for a surgeon, but because I refused to go directly into surgery and I'm an adult, they couldn't force me to stay.

So I got to work, same clothes, trying to rush through prep to make my lunch service. The owner of the commissary shows up to tell us that our last two rent checks have bounced. How is that possible? I've been working nonstop. We're making more than we ever have.

I haven't been paid in 8 months at that point. I check the business account, it's severely overdrafted. I look through the activity history. My sister had been not only paying herself the whole time, she'd given herself a raise, and she'd given her husband (who used to work for us) a MASSIVE severance package that was apparently set to autopay, so he kept getting it. He hadn't worked for the truck in over a year. Yes, my fault for not checking sooner, but silly me I thought I could trust my sister/business partner.

The commissary owner was a friend and she knew how hard I worked. We cut a deal where I'd pay her in cash with whatever I made that night. I did. It was enough, but barely. I needed to get more ingredients the next day though and pay event fees + insurance + labor for our register guy. I also didn't have health insurance at the time, so I didn't know what I was going to do about the kidney thing. Turned out that fate had my answer.

The following day, I fainted at Restaurant Depot. My mother, who had given us the money to start the truck in the first place, happened to be visiting my uncle further up state. She and my uncle drove 5 hours south to meet me in the hospital. I got my surgery. When I woke up, I explained things to my mother, who was livid.

My sister insisted that it wasn't her problem anymore, because by then I'd "skipped out on" 5 consecutive events and it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to work for at least two weeks while I recovered. She quit. I couldn't run it without her. My mother lived across the country, so she couldn't help.

There was nothing for it, and we had to close. It took me a year before I was able to work in my industry again, between recovery and then extreme depression because I felt I had failed on my dream and failed my mother, who used a portion of her retirement for that dream. The truck is still rusting in my uncle's warehouse today, six years later.

Username: [deleted]

Once, I was loading a 500lb bomb onto a shoulder rack of a triple ejector during an evaluation, and one of my crew members was, well: let’s just say; there is do, and fuckin’ up royal, and he was fuckin’ up royal.

Anyways, I had to be between the landing gear and the bomb rack for this particular maneuver, and I was guiding the bomb in and yelling at this cat simultaneously, while the sound of thunderous freedom trumpeted around me; jets running up and shit.

So, this jack-off of all trades puts the bomb into the hooks, and completely forgets to put the fucking safeing pin in, meaning only mechanical pressure is holding the powerful release spring from ejecting said bomb; and yes, I had yelled at him several times to put the fucking pin in! So I reach for the pin, because he has scurried away, and low and behold!!

The fucking bomb let’s loose into my open arms, pinning me to the landing gear! Time stands still: I look at the evaluator who looks like his eyes are going to explode out of his head, I look at my buddy driving the bomb lift who saw this all unfolding and was already jumping off to try and save me, and the dumbstruck look of the load supervisor whom has been using his 15 years “experience” to literally do everything in his power to negligently kill me this entire fucked loading operation long.

Fuck. Honestly, I kinda blacked out the next 15/30 seconds, but what I was told by the evaluator and my bro was that I literally curled the bomb back into place almost as fast as it dropped, and teleported into the face of the load supervisor, which is hilarious because when I get super pissed, my eyes turn black, and I am sure this made him piss ever so gently into his whitey-tighties.

What I do remember is my buddy resetting my dislocated left shoulder and the excruciating pain in my ribs and back after, and I finished out loading that night and everything. Found out months later (and many more dislocations) that I had severely torn the labrum in my shoulder, and by the time I got surgery I had to wrap my shoulder to keep in in place almost 24/7.

Oh, and the evaluator told me that was fucking epic, and the decertified the load supervisor on working on aircraft. Got a recommendation to be and evaluator myself after that too, for “attention to detail and safety control of a munitions load site”.
It was a pretty alright night.

Username: skottydoz

Our cat had some past trauma we were not aware of when we adopted him. He loves people and will cuddle with anyone, but he has one issue. He hates dogs, not your normal hate, like murderous level hate. It now explains his extreme hatred for the vet because the vet had dog scent all over him.

I've taken many pets who disliked the vet, this was a whole new level of hatred. This is the story of how my wife and I found all this out and had to go to the emergency room because of it.

Our cat Fabio loves being outside, we have a hammock that he will fall asleep in if we are in it with him. At this point, we had no clue about the dog thing. My wife and I decided that since he loves being outside, to try and take him for a walk. So we got him a good harness and off we went. We made it about a block when we saw our neighbors walking their dogs on the other side of the street a few blocks away.

Suddenly Fabio freezes, then starts looking around frantically, spots the dogs and goes absolutely nuts. He starts flailing all over the place, trying to escape his harness. I quickly reach down to try and control him so he doesn't hurt himself.

Bad move. He shreds my arms and hands then full blown bites my arm. My wife is trying to get a grip on him but to no avail. He breaks his harness and goes running off towards the nearest house thinking it is ours.

I look down and my whole arm is gushing blood. Like horror movie style. The sidewalk, grass, even our cat, was soaked in my blood. From the looks of it, he nicked a major vein in my forearm when he bit me.

I look back up and our neighbors are just standing there, frozen, across the street. Their faces were priceless. All they saw was a cat going crazy and a guy standing there with blood everywhere. I quickly ask that they take their dogs inside. Hopefully Fabio would calm down enough once they were gone that we could get him home.

They went inside and my wife was able to get Fabio and take him the back way home. The neighbors brought some paper towels for me to clean up and were obviously shaken up, asking if my arm was okay and all.

I just laughed it off and was like yeah, I'm fine, just need to head home real quick to clean it up. I calmy thanked them for being understanding of the situation. Then I walked back to the house trying not to get blood on my nice shorts. When I got back to the house, my wife was by the back door holding Fabio.

After a quick shower for the 3 of us to clean off all the blood, we saw how bad the damage to both of us really was. Gashes everywhere on our arms and one bite on me that nicked the vein. The bleeding stopped by this point so we cleaned and dressed everything. Poor Fabio, who is a white cat, was pink for a few days ( he bounced back to his normal cuddly self after a day or two).

We knew the risks of cat bites so we called our local ER to set up an appointment. We went that evening and got xrays and everything. Got put on antibiotics and sent on our way. My entire forearm looked like one giant bruise for about 2 weeks while it healed and it got a lot of stares.

Fabio no longer likes being outside, and we got him a window perch so he could still look outside which he enjoys.

Username: -PM_me_your_recipes-

I am a pretty accident prone person so I have 2 "Tis but a scratch" moments. The 1st happened when I was 12. My dad took my younger brother and I snow skiing. We had only gone a handful of times before so I was relatively new to it.

As anyone who has been skiing knows when you are first learning they teach you to "pizza" stop, angling your ski tips towards each other to stop. My brother is a daredevil and was going super fast and was falling a lot but I am the responsible one so I was really trying to do my best and learn the basics.

While coming to my "pizza" stop by my dad my ski tips crossed over my dads skis forcing my right ski and foot to turn completely backwards. Since I was going so slow my ski did not pop off like they are meant to. Luckily my dad was a pretty good skier and was able to get my ski off and then ski down the hill to get help while my brother stayed with me.

I was in shock so I was more upset that they had to cut off my favorite knee high toe socks than anything they did with my foot. Then it was a 1.5 hr bumpy drive to the closest hospital in the back of my dads SUV. Worst part was I cant sleep unless it is completely dark but I thought it would be cool to get a glow in the dark cast....

The 2nd happened 6 years ago. My husband and I were splitting wood for my in laws. We were using a hydraulic log splitter and my husband warned me multiple times before we even started that if for some reason the wood was going sideways not to worry about it and let it be. When we were almost done there was one piece of wood that started to shift a bit and I thought I had time to reach in and fix it.

Well I I didn't... The tip of my pointer finger got pinched between the flat part of the log splitter and the log and pulled the tip of my finger off. I instantly threw my glove off and grabbed my finger and ran inside. Once inside I was standing over the sink and opened my hand to look but my finger was such a mangled mess I passed out and hit my head on the dining table behind me.

I came to with my husband over me and I kicked off my boots and grabbed a clean towel and said "get my slippers you are taking me to the hospital". He took me to the urgent care that was closer to our house, we lived out in the boonies, they took one look at my finger and told me that we needed to go to the actually hospital ER about 1 hr away.

Finally got to the ER and was taking into the room. The dr comes in and asked if I had seen my fingernail. I told him last time I looked at my finger I passed out so I have no idea. Then I hear a clipping sound that i thought was the dr cutting my fingernail off. Later my husband told me the dr was cutting down my bone in my finger.

Ended up with 12 stiches in my fingertip and 8 in the back of my head and my left pointer is now about 3/4 inch shorter than my right. About a week later my MIL sends me a picture of the tip of my finger. She had found my glove I had thrown off and my fingertip was still in it.

Username: Real_Parsnipity

I’m a little late to the party, but I have a perfect one for this. I was at a party after a dance while in school. Pretty much everyone was way more intoxicated than they should be, especially me.

I had friends handing me bottles of liquor, take pills from them, and hand it back. Another one of my friends were way too messed up and handed me their Jack Daniels, telling me they didn’t want it anymore. There was only about 1/2 of a fifth left (a tenth if you will), but I chugged it immediately. Soon thereafter, I felt my eyeballs floating. I had to piss like a racehorse.

Now this is where things start to get a little blurry.This party was in a shed, so I walk outside to where a campfire (foreshadowing) was and a few people were drinking around. I remember walking a little behind the fire to piss and tripping over an electric fence.

I tried to get up multiple times and kept falling over. I even laughed to myself because I thought it was funny how fucked up I was (I’m sure seeing me repeatedly trip over this fence was funny, but not now intoxicated I was). Next thing I remember is my arm around my sisters head being carried towards a truck with the smell of burnt flesh and hair invading my nose.

I was trying to kick my way free as they pushed me into the truck to take me to the hospital, claiming “I was fine” and “still ready to party”. There were literally 5 people that had to stuff me into the truck (the driver was sober, don’t worry). Soon thereafter, I proceeded to vomit profusely the whole way to the hospital. I was not fine.

Apparently in my drunken haste of trying to conquer the electric fence and regain my balance, I fell right into the aforementioned campfire. If there had not been people around to pull me out, I would have certainly died.

There were rumors floating around that someone pushed me into the fire, but I don’t think that was true (even though I don’t remember). I knew the guys that pulled me out of the fire pretty well, and they would have definitely let me know if someone had pushed me in.

Anyways, I had second and third degree burns covering 80% of my left arm and a first degree burn on my right hand where I presumably pressed my hand on the steel cylinder containing the fire in efforts to push myself out.

I was extremely lucky that those were my only injuries, along with some singed hairs on my head. Surprisingly, the worst pain I remember from that night was the nurses scrubbing the dead flesh and ash from my wounds in preparation to wrap it in a bandage.

Side note, the only time I have ever passed out from pain was due to this injury. My mom would have to change my bandages every morning, as I only had one arm to do it, obviously. The first time she changed the bandages, a whole layer of skin peeled off with the bandage.

Apparently non-stick pads for bandages are a thing. We did not know that. That was the worst pain of my life, and I blacked out for a good 2 minutes I was told.

Edit: I would also like to mention that my parents did not let the doctors prescribe painkillers for my recover as my punishment for drinking underage. Was nothing but ibuprofen for me for the next two months.

Username: Its_Kid_CoDi

6ft 250lb (182 cm 113kg) me Summer camp counselor, jumped over a 40gal (150 liter) drum during a *very* competitive camp game during a “counselor round” and got slammed into the ground by the other team.

I’d tried to roll out of the landing in a somersault but another guy hit me from the other side going the opposite direction and grabbed my left arm (I’m upside down, about 2ft off the ground, surrounded by 500 screaming high schoolers, getting tackled by two other guys about my size) and I hit the ground with a violence akin to The Blitz.

I’ve got full on shell shock eeeeeeeeeee^ ringing in my ears and the background slowly fades in ^hey ^are you ok dude?

Go to start standing up and I can’t move my left arm. “Hmmm. That’s not good,” I think to myself, “best get out of the way so the next round can start! BUT WHAT IS THIS?? Left Arm has turned into a dead fish and I can’t feel *anything* from the shoulder -which looks suspiciously *less* shoulder shaped than normal- down. Can’t wiggle the fingers, can’t lift the arm and **HolyMotherofPearl** that hurt when I tried to move it.

Ah well, I think, to the camp nurse I go! I quickly stood up, used my right to tuck my left hand under the opposite armpit, clamp the hand in place, and support my now gelatinous elbow with my good hand. Then proceed to wade through the swarm of rabid teenagers, still bent on witnessing the final three counselors finish the game, to the golf cart of security and medical staff to tell them to take me to the camp nurse.

“You’ve got a dislocated shoulder” they tell me! “We can set it here and you’ll be good to go” they said!
“I’ve always wanted to do this on a real person” the cute one mentioned as she grips the formerly useful limb in question.

One disturbingly loud *POP* later I am experiencing The Worst ^TM pain I have ever been privileged as my humerus relocates and I can feel the nervous system reengage for the first time in 15 minutes.

For context I have been a college athlete, worked in construction, broken numerous fingers/toes, had minor surgery without anesthetic (mountain bike crash), had to swim Class 4 and 5 rapids as a white water guide, and rip off my own bandaids so I’m pretty familiar to uncomfortable situations but this was ungodly pain.

I cussed like I was getting paid by the word. I let loose a howl that would scare primal beasts. In that moment the world stood still and all that existed was ‘hurt!’ for about 2 seconds.

The thing was, despite having my shoulder back where it was intended to sit I couldn’t move my arm without near black-out level stabbing pain just above my elbow. So the nurses strap me into an immobility sling to keep my arm stationary, give me a couple Tylenol and send me off to bed.

One slow, painful shower and a good nights sleep later I *still* can’t move my arm. Camp doctor takes a look after breakfast and is still puzzled. [sling stays on all night]

“I mean, you should’ve been alright offer the relocation. I dunno without an X-ray and we can’t do that here.” “Well I’m going down the hill to fly to Massachusetts later today and spend the summer running camp there so I’ll get an X-ray before my flight at 8pm tonight. I’ve got time to kill,” I contribute. [put sling back on]

“Yeah. That sounds like a plan. Let us know what they find?” Caaaaaaan do! Pack my stuff one-handed, take another slow, excruciating shower (man my arm feels better with that immobility sling on)

The sling is back on the entire drive down the hill, into an Uber, and in the clinic waiting room. The technician calls my name and we go take a coupe xrays. I’ve had excellent service up until that moment, top tier bedside manners, and even offered a bottle of water. But this technician comes around that little wall they stand behind and is noticeably pale.

“When did this happen again?” they ask, much less enthusiastically than 2 minutes ago. I think for a seconds as I restrap my sling, “uhhh two days ago? Around 7pm. Why?” The technician looks me dead in the eye and says, “You need to see this. I don’t believe you.”

So I go to the screens in their little hide-y hole and check out the shots. And I tell you *h-what* it was *not* good. Apparently I had completely fractured my left humerus. Two. Pieces.

I’d gone 39 hours thinking my arm was just sore and I’d be fine tomorrow. Ended up needing a surgery involving 9 screws and a plate, scheduled first thing tomorrow morning. Took pictures of the screen and emailed my boss and the east coast staff to let them know I would not be flying to New England that night.

They’d need to find another lead counselor ASAP. Two weeks later I’d got my cast off, surprised everyone when I had full mobility and zero nerve damage despite the lag before surgery.

So I filled my pain med prescription and went back to camp in what can only be described as a 6 week long “therapeutic recreation session” where I was humbled beyond belief now that I could lift at MOST 5lbs and had trouble opening doors. Three years on and I’ve got a cool scar and a good story to tell about it!

Username: Soviet_Ski

I was trying to impress this girl I was dating. She wanted to take me on this gruelling hike. I, of course, jumped on the opportunity to prove that I was game and pushed myself way harder than I should, and I could hardly breathe during the climbs. I got home that Saturday and was just so tired, had a hard time breathing and was in pain. So I did the smart thing; I took some painkillers and went to bed.

My sister called me the next day because she wanted help with my then 3 month old nephew (she's a single mother), and when I answered the phone I was panting because I physically couldn't draw in that much air.

My sister, of course, freaks the fuck out while I'm being like: "Nah, it's cool, I probably just exerted myself." So we compromised, and by that I mean she forced me to go to the ER. She came to meet me and brought my nephew along with her.

My heart was acting a bit erratic so the doctor gave me an admittance letter and told me to go to the hospital (my sister drove me with my nephew in tow) and delivered this letter at the counter, a few minutes later a full trauma team burst out of the door and I had 5 people tending to me, it was all very dramatic.

Then they decided that: "No, you don't have a blood clot, you probably just overexerted yourself, we're gonna discharge you tomorrow, but just for safety's sake since you're still struggling to breathe we're gonna keep you on oxygen overnight."

"Cool beans" I think. My mom and sister were both busy so I asked the girl I was dating if she could pick me up. She arrived, I kept waiting to be discharged and when I asked the nurse they told me that the doctor was looking over my papers and writing my discharge papers.

Then another half hour later they came and got me for a "Control X-ray", still I was not really getting much information beyond the: "The Doctor just wants to ensure that you're alright before we discharge you and we want new X-rays to compare to the ones we took yesterday".

So I comply, get new X-Rays, get back to the hospital room and me and the girl hung out for another half hour before they came back and wanted to take me to get a CT-Scan, because the doctor wanted better images of my lungs.

Again I am wheeled up and they get new pictures, they wheel me back down, serve us some lunch and we hang out for another hour. Then they suddenly burst back in with a IV-line kit to jam in my hand in case I collapsed and needed emergency surgery and they crank my oxygen up to 6 liters pr hour.

Apparently, I had pneumothorax (leaking of air from the lung into the chest cavity) on **both** lungs, the rifts were positioned behind my sternum which had made it hard to discover and luckily the rifts weren't big so the air was leaking slowly.

It was by an incredible stroke of luck and a doctor who didn't quite like a 22 y/o showing up at the hospital with such tremendous breathing problems for no apparent reason so they put me on oxygen just to be safe that both my lungs didn't just collapse. In hindsight I am very happy I let my sister cajole me into going to the hospital instead of just toughing it out like I originally intended.

Username: that_lesbian_friend

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin... It was early evening, on a fairly warm summer's day. I had finished work and was riding home on my motorbike. Now some bikers are life long squids (riding without protective clothing), some are very vocally anti-squid.

Sometimes I wear full protective gear, sometimes my only protective gear is a helmet, boots any gloves, as was the case in this evening. Judge me if you want, but I am comfortable with the choices I make.

Now on this particular evening I was enjoying the warmth of the sun, and the ride home was along a beautiful stretch of road. Many riders in Britain may be aware of Matlock Bath, which draws bikers from all across the country.

My ride home just happened to be along the wonderful winding road between Belper and Matlock. for those that are not familiar, the road sweeps back and forth past fields, the River Derwent, and so much wooded area. This is a magical ride with the early evening sun.

It became a little less magical for me, in a "National Speed Limit" area (60mph/96kmh), round a very sharp corner, as a bird bounced off my helmet visor. In shock, I snatched the front brake (always use the back brake in a corner, never the front), and the bike stood up, hitting the curb on the outside of the bend.

I know my head bounced off the pavement because of the scratches on my helmet; and I clearly was knocked unconscious for a few seconds. But I was up and about before anybody had time to get out their car, and assured the people who had stopped that I was fine.

My gloves and boots had done their job, and my trousers were just ripped across the knees. That day I was wearing just a plain white button up shirt (store manager, so have to try to look smart at work). My shoulder must have gone down at some point, because there was a fairly significant laceration, and my shirt sleeve had ripped in two just below the elbow.

I picked myself and my bike up, and with my mobile phone being useless at this point (flat battery), I decided to ride to the nearest phone box I knew of, to phone my fiancé, and let her know I'd be a bit late home.

My bike was a little interesting to ride, as the impact had thrown the forks out of alignment, and the handle bars were now twisted about 40° to the right. I must have looked like a circus act riding that along the road. But I made it to the phone box, made the call, and decided that with the amount of adrenaline flooding my system, it would be best to just wait for ten or fifteen minutes, before riding the rest of the journey home.

Now, remember how that shirt I was wearing was white? It wasn't white now. In fact, between the rips in the shirt and trousers, and the blood soaking into the material, I don't think I would have looked out of place in a modern remake of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

So when a large vehicle with two middle aged women pulled up by the side of the road, I was mentally preparing to explain that "'Tis but a scratch", that the blood looks worse than it is, and that I'll be fine...

They did not pull up out of concern for my well being. Standing there at the vehicle's open window, with blood soaked clothes, and fresh blood trickling down and running off the tips of my fingers, one of the women simply looked at me and said "Excuse me, do you know where the hot air balloon rides take off from?" Didn't acknowledge my injuries at all...

As it was, I couldn't offer them any assistance, and they carried on their merry way, looking for a hot air balloon to ride in.So as to not leave anybody wondering, I did make it home fine.

A kind stranger saw me pull up and had a bottle of "Antiseptic wound spray" in their car which they gave me (marvelous stuff that should be in everybody's car/bike first aid kit). I didn't go to the hospital, I've seen the nurses turn sadistic with those wire brushes (I do, of course, realise it is often necessary).

I cleaned the wound out myself, although I did end up dealing with a minor infection. I straightened out the handle bars and forks, replaced the slightly broken front lamp, and my gloves & helmet, and was back at work for my next shift... Albeit a bit battered and hobbling.

Username: A_Grumpy_Dad

I went to visit some friends about 8 hours away from me, 3 days in I started feeling unwell and honest just thought it was cramps and period related sickness. I was feverish, and in pain and couldn't sleep or eat and my friends took me to the doctor on the 2nd day, where I was sent home with a UTI diagnosis (mind you, I've had UTI's before and this was NOT it fam).

By day 3, I started kind of hallucinating. I hadn't eaten or slept and I was just really not okay, so back to the doctors we went where I saw a different doctor who was super lovely and made them open all the scans early so I could have a CT and ultra sounds. Apparently they just really couldn't see anything or tell because i am a very small adult. She ended up just telling me to straight to the hospital.

My friend and I arrive at the hospital and enter the triage, were we wait in line. I start getting cold, really cold as I get to the front of the line, and as the woman asks for my name, I literally just faint right then and there, first forward and smack my head on the glass, then backwards into my friend. Which I still laugh about to this day when I tell the story. I come to and there's a bunch of nurses with a stretcher bed and I'm just like uh oh.

Ended up hooked up to the heart tracer (ecg???) Machine and they kept asking if I was pregnant or had STI's and did so many different pregnancy tests and then gave me my first pap smear which was horrifying :( It was put me on the verge of panic attack so they had to turn on hook me from the heart monitor because every time they tried to insert the thing I would be hyperventilating and my machine would start beeping super loud, I feel so bad for the poor lady.

I had to wait for so many hours to have surgery too, as I was being prepped to go in as their 5th case of appendicitis that night, they told me a 6 year old boy had been rushed in with it also so I asked them to do him first because I wasn't doing too bad at the time and I guess that made me feel a little better.

So as I'm finally being taken in, they tell me they still honestly don't know 100%if it IS my appendix, but they're doing laparoscopy to find out, and if my appendix has ruptured, because I left it for so long there's a chance it could have spread to my intestines.

If that was the case, I would be in surgery a lot longer and they would have to actually cut me open to remove the infected portion. They told me for a while I would have poop trouble and all I remember thinking was that I don't want to shit myself ever.

FINALLY have my surgery, which turned out, yes my appendix had in fact ruptured and started to turn gangrenous which started spreading to only a small part of my intestines (basically 24 hours away from death apparently) so I ended up staying in hospital for about 4 days, receiving constant injections which Is a very bad phobia for me but hey, got through it I guess.

The day after surgery was honestly the worst. I felt like I was going to explode from the gas they pump into your stomach during laprascopy to help them see your organs or something old, but holy it was painful. I looked like I was in my 2nd trimester of pregnancy and I could barely inhale. the second day, I was super unwell and vomited but after that it was all up hill and I recovered fine! I have some cool scars now so it's ok.

Most injuries I’ve had are “tis but a scratch moments” but not for any badass reason. Most of the time if I get badly hurt it’s like my brain turns off and I just hyperfocus on my wound bandaging or covering it and just walking to whoever can help me. If people talk to me I’m just giving them the simplest answers.

None of my stories are too impressive, one time when I was younger I was at this kids birthday and they had an inflatable water slide and it was in the parking lot. It had an inflatable pool at the bottom that you slid into and then you stepped onto the parking lot and went back around the slide to the start.

I step out of the slide to the street and scrape my foot against the floor. I don’t remember how much of my toenail was left but it wasn’t much, I legit basically scraped it off. I told my mom, she was freaking out and basically saying “what the fuck, how”. I honestly might have been freaking out but I was pretty young so I don’t remember. Point is that wasn’t the only time I fucked up my toenail.

Years later I’m hanging out at my friends place and his pool is empty cause I think part of it was broken or something so the water got super dirty. We decide it’s a good idea to play in the empty pool and to make a long story short I do the same foot scrape thing and fuck up the SAME TOE. I don’t notice at first and then I look down and I’m basically like “oh that didn’t look like that a second ago”.

My friend gets me a bunch of band aids and I basically just apply a shit ton. I go home and I go to bed. That was not a good idea. I wake up feeling like shit with zero energy. I go to my bathroom and get in the tub and take off the bandages and I basically find out I’m tired because I’ve been bleeding out of my toe all night and it got infected because all I did was put bandages on it. I yelled for my mom, she saw it and almost vomited but got me to a doctor.

A funnier and not toe related story is the one about my nose. I was at school and there was this iguana, of course a bunch of other kids were looking at it. One of my classmates was freaked out by it and I, being an asshole, decided to fake push him to make him flinch.

He spins around and elbows me straight in the nose. I start cupping my nose and I just lean against something and go silent. I then start laughing which freaks out every single one of my friends. The main reason they were freaked out is because there was a lot of blood and it was very liquid (I think it was he broke one of my capillaries or something I don’t remember) and I was also covering my eye so they assumed that since the blood was more liquid than usual it was coming from my eye.

I showed them the nose and they realized I hadn’t just gone blind and we started walking to the nurses office, and I just continue laughing and leaving a trail of blood. I get to the nurses office and she calls my mom to take me to the doctor. The blood had bled (no pun intended) through all my clothes, it even bled through my pants and underwear so my clothes are messed up and I’m just covered in my own blood.

When I get to the doctor he tells me I lost a lot of blood and that I’m excused from gym class for the rest of the week, that includes this big race that we did every year that no one ever wants to go to. So I ended up thanking the guy who hit me in the face (cause I didn’t have to do the race) and apologized for pretending to push him.

The adrenaline made it not hurt so overall it was a pretty positive experience. Also the trail of blood I left got erased because it rained literally a few minutes later, lucky for the janitors. Except for one spot, the place where I got hit was this like open air tiny house thing with benches that had a roof, and that was where I had bent over and gone silent for a minute.

So there was this pool of blood on the bench, it’s not a place people usually go to so the blood stayed there and dried and turned black and everyone assumed it was just paint. Just like the toe there was a much smaller repeat incident. I went ice skating for the first time and I fell on my face, a random guy helped me up (which was very nice of him) and got me back to the lobby area.

The people running the rink got me some paper towels and stuff and people would skate by to report the blood and then they would see me and just be like “oh” and skate away. My nose used to be straight before all this but now it’s got this bump and is kind of crooked but you won’t notice because of my glasses.

On the other hand it also made this sort of nook where my glasses go and they stay on a lot easier so that’s pretty convenient. Overall not that bad.

Username: [deleted]

I participated in the Hash House Harriers both in and after college. It’s a global organization with strong ties to colleges and the military. I’ve hashed in states other than my home state of Iowa, including a short stint in Los Angeles. Hashing is basically described as “a drinking club with a running problem” and I can best sum it up as a weekly scavenger hunt for beer/debauchery.

A group of like-minded individuals (in really any kind of physical shape) meet as “a kennel” at a pre-determined outdoor location or bar. They mingle...have some drinks...pay their weekly dues...and record their names (or gifted hash nicknames) and number of completed runs in a logbook.

Eventually, one to three “hares” take off to set the week’s trail using piles of flour/hamster bedding and chalk symbols. They get a ten to fifteen minute head start and then the rest of the pack takes off after them.

The goal is simple. The hares want to 1) lay a successful, fun and noteworthy trail, while 2) not getting caught. The rest of the pack wants to catch the hares before the trail’s end. There can be stop-offs at bars, homes or carefully-hidden outdoor beer stations. The end of the trail often transforms from a small party to a night of the afore-mentioned beer/debauchery.

Something eventful always seemed to happen every week, depending on where the trail went through and eventually ended. Funny happenings...run-ins with cops/bikers/Karens/etc...people getting hopelessly lost...and - of course - major injuries. I had made it through several years relatively unscathed, aside from the occasional ankle twist, blister, splinter, near drowning and having my mustache/beard set on fire. Life was good.

Until...one eventful Thursday night in the early spring of 2002. A decent-sized group of us met at a local park and got ready to have a good time. It was still getting dark relatively early, so a lot of us were packing flashlights and head lamps. The trail - naturally - went through some rough wilderness en route to our college town’s downtown area.

We were making our way down a steep wooded incline when I lost my footing and plunged my left leg into a tangle of branches. This particular ball of nastiness included not only branches, but barb wire and a little glass for flavor. I hauled my leg out and felt no pain, continuing down the hill.

We circled up on the bike trail to plot our next move when one my compatriots stopped everything. “Woah woah woah...” he whistled, looking at my leg. “You have a problem, buddy.” He shined his light at the outside of my calf. I twisted, looked down and peered all of the way INSIDE my leg.

“Holy shit. Medic?” A girl next to me screamed and ran off. She came back with a visiting harsher from
Nebraska who was apparently a doctor. He looked into my leg and then stared up at me, his headlamp blinding.

“This isn’t good, sir.”
“No shit.”

Sooooo, we climbed back up the hill and I hobbled back to the park. The head of our group kindly offered me a ride to the E.R. along with a relatively clean tee shirt to wrap around my leg. Before the dome light went off, I could see all of the way to the muscle, red and surprisingly barely bleeding. The opening was about four inches long and straight. It looked like a dark eye staring up at me as I wrapped in gingerly.

We went to the historically sketchy E.R. that was just North of campus and had a great time explaining what had occurred. I was given a tetanus shot, of course, and some crooked sutures. The doctor sent me on my way, absently mumbling to “take it easy” for a few weeks.

So, we went to the bar where the trail had ended and dived into a long night of partying. I was slightly hampered, but otherwise up to the task. The buzz of adrenaline had carried me all the way to the moment of my normal Thursday night buzz.

The wound healed super quickly over the next few weeks, and I’m not sure exactly why, but I was inspired to start running on a daily basis as I healed up. I actually kept the momentum into the summer and completed my first ever half marathon in an hour and 38 minutes.

Topped out at 17 miles as my longest run before work and a fine lady gave my budding running career the boot. I miss running, whether it was for fun, exercise or beer. It might be time to get back after it. I will be avoiding the woods, however.

Username: Marko-Darko

From my post about a year and a half ago. So, I live in the freezing north, and all the sidewalks are covered in ice. It was particularly bad last night, when I was going too fast, slid out and took a fall on my electric scooter. (the real fuck up)

I was going a bit fast down the sidewalk, since I had to make it to a Calc 2 exam on the other side of my college campus. I lost control, and fell on my face pretty much right outside the dorm. I had glasses on at the time, which got bent up and cut me right next to my eye. I didn't know how bad it was, only that it was bleeding, so I decided to continue on and try to make the exam.

(I'd been studying for this for weeks, I wasn't about to miss it). Honestly I have no idea how I survived the rest of the way to the exam, cause I wasn't exactly in great shape at that moment. (fuckup #2, but really more stupid choice that didn't turn out too badly)

I get to the exam, and get some odd looks from the people around me, probably because pretty much the whole left side of my face was covered in blood. I try to start taking the exam (fuckup #3), and on the first question, I realize a few things.

First off, I realize I'm having a hard time focusing and that I have a blind spot just to the left of my center of vision. Second off, I realize there's no way I can finish the exam right now. And third off, I should probably call an ambulance cause I definetly have a concussion and a large laceration next to my eye.

After that, I talk to a rather suprised TA and sign up for the make-up exam the following morning, (today), and then get an ambulance to the hospital, where I got 7 stitches, a concussion diagnosis, and a CT scan of my head and neck that came back fine.

My blind spot also went away pretty soon after the the ambulance came. On the bright side, I took the exam super early this morning, and despite the concussion and the eye thing my studying paid off and I'm pretty sure I aced it.

EDIT: I randomly met a guy today who apparently had already heard the story of the guy who walks into a Calc exam with a bleeding face, and tells the TA he probably has a concussion. My reputation seems to have preceeded me.

Update: I got my test score back, got an 84. I didn't ace it like I thought, but from what I've been hearing from friends who also took the test I actually did comparably really well since supposedly the test was very hard.

Also, from people I've talked to, apparently nearly all of them got significantly less than they expected when they walked out, so there were probably a few tricky questions where you think you have the right answer but are actually wrong. I would have been fine with that score before my concussion, but given the circumstances I'm more than happy with it.

Username: PackOfVelociraptors

When I was 21, I went out to the lake with my friends one summer night, as we usually did. We had this one secluded spot that no one ever came to so we could swim and build a fire and shit down there. There’s a sandy beach area and it’s got a concrete boat ramp that slopes into the water.

Each side of the ramp is lined with some giant rocks to help prevent sand moving around I guess. One of the guys backed their car onto the ramp to play music and we’re hanging out on the concrete. I think I dropped or spilled my friends drink which prompted her to make a joke about breaking my leg as vengeance for her lost alcohol.

I laughed and said fine by me then I don’t have to go to work tomorrow! So she told me she’d just break every other one of my toes instead so I would still be able to go to work. Then my drunk ass decided to take off running and laughing, barefoot, in the dark. I had forgotten about the rocks and ran straight across the jagged fuckers.

I got to the other side, in the sand, and turned around and all my friends were asking if I was ok. I laughed and said of course I was. Had no idea what they were talking about. I stumbled a little on the rocks and maybe got a cut or two on my foot but I was fine!

We continue the evening and the guy I had invited along for a first date type deal and I were walking near the water while my best friend and a guy she brought sat up higher on the beach. At some point I realized my foot kinda hurt but kept walking on it.

Guy kept offering to carry me but I was not comfy with that and kept refusing. Then I started feeling a bit nauseous from the dull ache in my ankle/foot and decided wow I should sit down I actually don’t think I can stand on that anymore.

My buzz is starting to wear off by now and guy is being super creepy, putting his hand on my thigh even though I kept telling him to stop, trying to kiss me after I very clearly said no repeatedly, and I am realizing I’m in a tough spot because I can’t walk on my foot so good.

I still think I just rolled it or whatever but I don’t feel safe knowing I’m somewhat incapacitated so I text my friend an SOS and she comes down and says we should all go get food and I happily oblige. We all hopped back in our cars and head to a Sheetz for some late night snacks.

I’m driving myself along, my friend and the guy she brought are in his car, and creepo is in his car. We get to a stop light and friend and I turn left to go for food and creepo turns right and I breathe a sigh of relief. My foot hurts a bit cause it’s my right foot and I drive with that foot but I’m thinking it’s no big deal.

We get to Sheetz and I finally walk into a well lit area after being in the dark this whole time and look down at my foot and the whole top of it is completely black and swollen. The pain still doesn’t fully hit me but I realize it’s worse than I thought and I shouldn’t drive on it anymore so, when we go to leave, I had to have my friend drive my car back to my place. We get back and climbing up two flights of stairs to my apartment is a bitch so I decide as soon as the orthopedic urgent care down the street opens in the morning I’ll take a trip over there.

I drove myself there using my left foot. Hobbled my way inside. I think I’m handling the pain fairly well but I guess my face gave me away because the elderly gentlemen in line in front of me saw me and offered his walker to me to lean on. I thank him but tell him I’m alright and continue to wait.

I’m finally called up to the window for check in and that’s when the pain fully hits. I can’t take another step and start crying. They had to bring out a wheelchair. I get X-rays taken and the doctor comes into the room and the first thing she asks me is “were you drunk when you did this?”

Turns out I had torn several ligaments in my foot and completely shattered the toe next to my pinky toe. I was on crutches for weeks. And you bet your ass I went to work that afternoon. I worked at Starbucks as a supervisor so I couldn’t find coverage and had to run the drive thru whilst on crutches.

This was 4 years ago now and I still can’t bend that toe and it still hurts from time to time. I laugh about it now and treat it as a cautionary tale to myself. I have the X-ray framed on my wall.

Username: bright-tides

Most injuries I’ve had are “tis but a scratch moments” but not for any badass reason. Most of the time if I get badly hurt it’s like my brain turns off and I just hyperfocus on my wound bandaging or covering it and just walking to whoever can help me. If people talk to me I’m just giving them the simplest answers.

None of my stories are too impressive, one time when I was younger I was at this kids birthday and they had an inflatable water slide and it was in the parking lot. It had an inflatable pool at the bottom that you slid into and then you stepped onto the parking lot and went back around the slide to the start.

I step out of the slide to the street and scrape my foot against the floor. I don’t remember how much of my toenail was left but it wasn’t much, I legit basically scraped it off. I told my mom, she was freaking out and basically saying “what the fuck, how”.

I honestly might have been freaking out but I was pretty young so I don’t remember. Point is that wasn’t the only time I fucked up my toenail. Years later I’m hanging out at my friends place and his pool is empty cause I think part of it was broken or something so the water got super dirty.

We decide it’s a good idea to play in the empty pool and to make a long story short I do the same foot scrape thing and fuck up the SAME TOE. I don’t notice at first and then I look down and I’m basically like “oh that didn’t look like that a second ago”. My friend gets me a bunch of band aids and I basically just apply a shit ton. I go home and I go to bed.

That was not a good idea. I wake up feeling like shit with zero energy. I go to my bathroom and get in the tub and take off the bandages and I basically find out I’m tired because I’ve been bleeding out of my toe all night and it got infected because all I did was put bandages on it. I yelled for my mom, she saw it and almost vomited but got me to a doctor.

A funnier and not toe related story is the one about my nose. I was at school and there was this iguana, of course a bunch of other kids were looking at it. One of my classmates was freaked out by it and I, being an asshole, decided to fake push him to make him flinch.

He spins around and elbows me straight in the nose. I start cupping my nose and I just lean against something and go silent. I then start laughing which freaks out every single one of my friends.

The main reason they were freaked out is because there was a lot of blood and it was very liquid (I think it was he broke one of my capillaries or something I don’t remember) and I was also covering my eye so they assumed that since the blood was more liquid than usual it was coming from my eye.

I showed them the nose and they realized I hadn’t just gone blind and we started walking to the nurses office, and I just continue laughing and leaving a trail of blood. I get to the nurses office and she calls my mom to take me to the doctor.

The blood had bled (no pun intended) through all my clothes, it even bled through my pants and underwear so my clothes are messed up and I’m just covered in my own blood. When I get to the doctor he tells me I lost a lot of blood and that I’m excused from gym class for the rest of the week, that includes this big race that we did every year that no one ever wants to go to.

So I ended up thanking the guy who hit me in the face (cause I didn’t have to do the race) and apologized for pretending to push him. The adrenaline made it not hurt so overall it was a pretty positive experience. Also the trail of blood I left got erased because it rained literally a few minutes later, lucky for the janitors.

Except for one spot, the place where I got hit was this like open air tiny house thing with benches that had a roof, and that was where I had bent over and gone silent for a minute. So there was this pool of blood on the bench, it’s not a place people usually go to so the blood stayed there and dried and turned black and everyone assumed it was just paint.

Just like the toe there was a much smaller repeat incident. I went ice skating for the first time and I fell on my face, a random guy helped me up (which was very nice of him) and got me back to the lobby area. The people running the rink got me some paper towels and stuff and people would skate by to report the blood and then they would see me and just be like “oh” and skate away.

My nose used to be straight before all this but now it’s got this bump and is kind of crooked but you won’t notice because of my glasses. On the other hand it also made this sort of nook where my glasses go and they stay on a lot easier so that’s pretty convenient. Overall not that bad.

Username: [deleted]

Literally happened to me a few weeks ago. I had to get a root canal done on my upper left canine. Had a bad cavity and was hurting for a long while. Now, mind you I am terrified of dentists, and even though i felt badass in the story I'm about to tell, it's only given me trauma and made my fear of dentists worse.

So I'm in the chair, they've numbed me up and the dentist, who I should note is NOT the main dentist of this building, hes a younger guy, most likely just out of his schooling and was assigned to get the root canal done.

After, the dentist who's namesake was given to this company, would fit the crown. Well, maybe 3 seconds into drilling, it feels like hot electricity shooting up my face. It came out of nowhere and hurt so bad that my leg reactively kicked up and smacked into the dentists lamp.

He goes to apply more numbing, waits 2 minutes, tries again. Same thing. He goes to tell me that "the tooth is like a pimple that cant be popped yet, theres a lot of pressure with the nerve, and if I can just get to it, itll release all that pressure and the pain will dissapear."

So he ends up trying TWO MORE TIMES, so about 4 or 5 times now where I had my tooth drilled without numbing medication, literally a nightmare. Finally, he asks "Listen i know you're going through a LOT of pain right now, but if we can just get to it... we can stop here and call you back but if you think you can handle it, we can keep going..."

I looked this man dead in the eyes and told him "No Pain, No Gain man. I get it, let's get it done." He then tried to drill my tooth two more times before giving up because he couldnt stand seeing me in pain anymore, and honestly, I felt so lightheaded from the whole ordeal I thought I was going to pass out.

The older dentist came in, asked what was going on, the young guy told him, and literally he was like "Well why is he still here?" He turned to me and said "Okay listen, you have what we call a Hot Tooth, where the nerve is so infected and pressurized that it physically cannot take in any of the numbing medication, so were going to send you home with some antibiotics, you take them all over 2 weeks and well have you back to finish it."

That was it. The younger dentist just didnt want to send me home yet, wanted to get in there. It literally felt like a living nightmare, where you're tied down and forced to get dentist drilled without meds, only here it was voluntary, and I had that one moment of "Bro it's totally fine, I'm fine, no pain no gain" despite being totally fuckin' traumatized from the experience.

Thankfully the next time I went back had no problems, and I have to go back AGAIN to get the crown put in. Fun times...

Username: MrDraco999

A drunk passenger tried to stab me to death. I didn't really notice. Backstory: I used to work on cruise ships in a technical capacity, I was able to spend downtime in passenger areas, I also worked as a bouncer and as security in some very rough venues while I was at uni, and I'm a pretty big guy.

I'm in the lounge, probably have a book, probably didn't have a 3DS but if this amuses you, go with it. Across the lounge, half blocked by the bar, two groups of middle-aged people have begun to scream at each other over something, Side A has three middle-aged men in front of their wives, Side B has two middle-aged men, another person walking away from them all, and someone's mother or grandmother. EVERYONE is screaming and the couple pairs have begun getting in each other's faces. Shoving has begun.

For some unsurprising yet probably still dumb reason, there is only one person to hand working security who doesn't seem to be having success deescalating, the group of three on side A drunkenly jumps the two on side B as the wives of A get in the face of security crewmember, myself and the two bartenders rush over to help until more security can get it. one bartender definitely takes a hit or two,

Security crewmember takes a fairly substantial hit to the mouth(I don't think he lost teeth, but dental work had to happen later.), but we manage to drag everyone apart, and I end up on one of the guys from B with more fight in him, in the fray the other guy sucker punches me to minimal impact before becoming occupied. I get my guy pinned in guard, more security comes, and it seems like everything is over.

What I legitimately didn't notice, was that the other guy from B had a little tactical pen with a glass breaker on the end of it, he scuffed up the bartender that ended up tackling him pretty badly, and while I had the other guy occupied, those sucker punches? that was him with the pen. deep wound, you can see a little bit of collarbone exposed, and another one and another long shallow one going back towards my back over my shoulder.

I don't really notice this until I can stand up and become aware of just exactly how much blood is soaking my shirt. What follows includes a closed bar, blood in the carpet, *three sets of stitches* because the ship's doctor fucked up one set the first time, as well as arrests, lifetime bans and everyone injured going off to hospital when we put into port the next day.

Also while I was in a hospital room waiting until I could discharge and fly home, a man who looked nothing like me tried to trade several things, including cocaine for my drivers' license. but. That's a different story.

Username: VerySmallCyclops

So I am 17 and this happened about two years ago. I went to summer camp every year cause I loved it. Our camp splits us depending on gender and age. I was at the oldest "Team" so to speak. There is this game we played once or twice for the whole month I was there for.

The camp was in a nice setting with a forest and mountains next to it and a beach in front. The game we played required us to go on top of one of the mountains. Basically it was males vs females from the teams of the kids our age.

The way the game works is there are two flags a red and a blue one(Blue for males and red for females). One of the stems from each team hid the flag somewhere in the forest.

The map boundaries where the entire mountain which contained a big forest. Each one of us had to pick a three digit number which was then painted on our bellies. If anyone from the enemy team yelled out the number painted on our belly you basically died.

Point of the game was to either capture the flag. If by the end of the time (More than an hour if I am not mistaken) none of the flags had been found then the team with the most kills won. Also you weren't allowed to lie down to hide your number or use your arms or hug another person.

Ok now comes the story(if you are still reading this lol). Me and my friends formed a platoon and started going deep into the forest to take out as many girls as we could. At one point, about twenty minutes into the game, we got overrun by a group of girls.

We all tried to hide our numbers and also attempt to spot theirs. In the midst of the chaos of everyone screaming numbers we noticed that one of my best friend's was missing. We later on found out that he was climbing a tree(I would say it was a pretty big tree as well).

The girls started focusing on him a bit but apparently one of the branches he was standing on wasn't stable enough and it broke. The guy fell from that height and fell on other branches in the process which also broke and thankfully slowed down his momentum.

We all gathered around him and tried to help him up. Kid had huge scratches everywhere on his back and chest and blood was coming out of the wounds too. Arms, legs, chest, back you name it!

He was covered in wounds, skin peeled off, scratches, blood and dirt.the medics came and told him that he was off the game and that he would head to the nursery and maybe the hospital but he just stood up on his own and told them "No I am going to keep playing" and they let him continue!!

Man was a God living among mortals. Still one of my very good friends and his story became known to the whole camp. Never gonna forget that day. Kids got balls of steel.

Username: manny_xeni

First off, I have what's called "Sensory integration disorder" - some pains/senses are dulled, enhanced, or changed entirely. Throw a few mental disorders that impair my ability to communicate like a human being, and the resulting batter looks less like something to make a cake from, and more like what Chris Traeger's "vegetable loaf" looked like. At the time of this story, I hadn't worked on these nearly enough, which is why things ended up the way they did.

On with it. When I was in 5th grade, all was normal until a night that I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen area. Not entirely unusual - stomach aches wouldn't get solved for another few years. So, I slept through this, thinking it would fade as always.

Come morning time, and the pain has gotten worse. A sharp cramp, if you will. My parents probably thought I was faking it (even though I was that kid who literally *asked* to go to school) and sent me to school.

The details of that day are a bit fuzzy, but I remember a couple things clear as crystal: the hour or so I was in class flew by, and when I asked the teacher if I could call home she ushered me out. I lay in the office with pain so bad I was seeing stars, and time seemed to drag on longer than humanly possible.

My parents picked me up, and I recall spending the rest of the day - and the following night - on the couch, unable to uncurl myself from a fetal position. The next morning, I could not move. The pain was dumbfounding, so while it was still dark my parents took me to the ER.

The memories get sparser from here: being carried into the car, going on a wheelchair into the ER, and getting an MRI. The next thing I know, I'm going through elevators, hallways and an ambulance ride, delirious with various hallucinations.

My last memories of the hospital trip before surgery are squeezing hands, being wheeled into the room and an anesthesiologist putting the mask on my face and asking me questions about myself and my school.

I had appendicitis. I have felt many pains in my life, and nothing compares to that. Luckily, it had only ruptured, because had it exploded I wouldn't be here today. The lab results of a biopsy returned gangrene (basically bacteria that causes severe rot).

The recovery took about 1 month to walk again, and 6 to fully recover. It would have been longer if it had been via one large incision.If you're reading this and you suddenly have an acute abdominal pain, don't wait.

Appendicitis is no joke, and timing can mean the difference between a short, long, or no need for recovery time. Your body has been fine-tuned to keep you alive - LISTEN TO IT!

Username: a_wild_redditer

I was pouring concrete as a high school kid in the summer. Lots of shoveling work, moving rebar etc.

House pads have pastic jacketed big wire cables that run through them. Once the concrete is poured a machine pulls on the cables and "compresses" the concrete form the outside.

These cables arrive to the site rolled up and zip tied. They have a diameter of about 3 feet. My job was to cut the zip ties (with a pair of side-cutter, not a knife, it becomes important later) and unroll them (they are under some strain) and lay them out flat, take measurements (to make sure we got what we ordered) then place them.

I'd done this 20 times, was real careful the first 15 times because there is some stored energy there. You cut the end free and its going to snap or whip out etc.

These cables are just a little thicker around than thumb thick and the ends are cut with a fucking laser or some super cool machine that makes it perfectly smooth (in its plastic jacket)

When rolled up the metal part sticks slightly out of the plastic jacket due to it being allowed to slide and slightly different and what not.

Long story short. going through like a pro (translation : Idiot who has been doing it long enough to think he knows how to cut corners and still be safe) cutting the zip ties, letting the rolls unspin or the ends slap out on the ground etc.

I'm done and heading toward the water when my ankle feels wet. Look down and BLOOD from my mid inner thigh all the way to my foot soaking into my work jeans.

"I've got to go to the hospital!" I call out. Get a bunch of confused "What?" because of course I'm standing near the truck with a paper water cup in my hand.

I turn a bit to show the blood and holy shit, like shooting fireworks off inside a at a kindergarten play. People went nuts. Half were convinced I cut the big artery, the other half were focused on WHAT happened. At the time I honestly had no idea.

I was packed up quick in the back of a car and to the hospital I went holding pressure on it. I remember being the calmest out of the whole group.

Three inch long half inch deep cut. The jeans looked like they were cleanly cut. Cops got involved because everyone in hospital said it looked like a knife slash. Questioned if I was cutting cables with a knife, blade, etc (The thought self harm)

I literally had the side cutters in the back pocket of my cut-away-from-body jeans. Turns out the edge of the cable was so sharp that when one of them whipped out it sliced me open and I never even felt it.

Seriously never felt the cut at all until I was putting pressure on it and calling for help.

Username: ruat_caelum

I used to ride a skateboard everywhere I went. I live in some suburbs in the hill country of Texas. I went over to a friends house in the neighborhood next to the one i live in, and the main thru street of the subdivision is really long, fairly steep and has a lot of winding turns. My friend had an HTC Vive and right after Half-Life Alyx came out I had convinced him to let me borrow it for a little while so I could play the game.

Since I didn’t have any other method of transportation, and because I was eager to get my hands on the Vive as soon as soon as I possibly could because I was so excited for HLA, I decided to skateboard over to his house and back. I had done similar stuff a hundred times before without any problem, so I threw on some sleeping pants and a shirt and headed off.

Our neighborhoods are built on top of a bunch of hills and because of this my subdivision sits much higher up than his does. Riding a skateboard to his house is easy since all I have to do is coast down hills all the way to his house. I got there in just a few minutes.

We packed up the Vive, the lighthouses etc. into a backpack I was wearing and I was on my way. On the way back I decided to just go out and back around his neighborhood. The incline is very steep and trying to go back up it on a skateboard was tough, so I decided to just keep going down.

The problem was, when I ride my my skateboard I ride in the street if there is no cars going down the road. Usually this works out fine, my system was that I would ride on the opposite side of the road of where a car would be and then either switch sides or hop on the sidewalk if a car was coming.

I was cruising down the road on the right side, going as fast as the board could take me down a super steep incline when I see a car come up around corner behind me. I go to change to the left side of the road when I see that there’s a car coming from the *left* side directly at me.

Any other time I would slow down and jump to the sidewalk, but because of the incline I was going too fast to handle. I tried to correct back to the right after I saw the car on the left side and the skateboard just buckled out from under me and I came crashing down.

My first instinct is just “oh shit protect the Vive” so I fell, face planted and slid across the pavement on my arms and legs with little covering. My second thought was “you are on the road with cars coming right at you” so I immediately just jumped to my feet and walked off to the sidewalk.

My legs and arms were scraped to hell and my shirt had ripped, but the Vive was okay. The person in the car behind me stopped and asked if I was okay and I just gave her a wincing smile and said “yep I’m fine” and kept walking like nothing happened.

I didn’t feel it for a few minutes, but then everything in my body hurt like hell. Saved the Vive though, so it all worked out in the end

Username: Portalfan4351

Saturday 1am driving home from work at the Cinerama Dome on my [rad scoot](https://jalopnik.com/hondas-elite-150-is-the-coolest-scooter-with-a-pop-up-h-1824240893 "Yes, it was red") in the late 80s.

I was stopped at a red light as a 280z pulls up on my right. As the light turned green we entered the intersection. Out of frikken nowhere giant 70's Chevy Impala without headlights on blazed into the intersection smashed into me and then the Z. The guy in the Z said "*I heard the initial crash and saw you soar over my hood before that Impala plowed into me*".

While I was wearing my Shoei helmet, it turns out I hadn't really fed the strap back through the double D rings. As I sailed to the right over the hood of the Z, my helmet kept on going forward.

The shock and impact caused a bit of a blackout for me, but I was back up on my feet quickly. Helmetless I did a quick inspection and based on the hole in the shoulder of my overcoat, the burned through leather jacket, and sore shoulder, my right shoulder struck and slid across the pavement.

I surveyed the scene: scoot now resembled a twisted compressed version of its former glory, the impala and Z were locked together and the driver of the impala apparently didn't have his seatbelt on as his whole body rested on his dash, his plumber's crack and pressed hams up against the windshield.

In shock, with an instinct to 'clean up' I decided I needed to retrieve my lonely helmet and try to drag my crushed scooter out of the intersection. After muscling the tiny wreck to the curb, I suddenly felt a bit tired and sat.

A bit later some ambulances arrived with EMTs. A few of them were working on extracting the unconscious Impala driver (drunk and therefore generally uninjured) from his car's dashboard as one approached me.

"*Hey, did you see what happened?*"
I stood up to reply
"*Not only did I see, it happened to me. This is what's left of my scooter.*"

I pointed to the pile of plastic and metal by the curb
"*Wow!*"
Then he took a closer look at me.
"*Son, you need to slowly sit down right now, and I'm going to get a board for you.*"

I was confused.
"*What are you talking about?*"
He clarified
"*If you can, reach up and touch either of your shoulders.*"

I did as asked and felt my overcoat (that I wore over my leather jacket) had become wet. Pulling my hand away I saw blood. He then gently further clarified

"*Son, it looks like you have a significant head wound. That says to me you likely have a concussion and may have some neck damage. Why don't you let us strap you in for a ride to the hospital.*"

Turned out I had not only slid on my shoulder, but on the back of my head, which required 17 stitches to close up the flowing wound when I arrived at the hospital. No wonder I was tired.

Username: CheapBastid

I used to love to go trampoline jumping when i was young. I think i was about 12 or something, and We did it all, backflips, frontlips, half twists, full twists etc, landing on feet, knees, stomach or on the back, doing backflips with half twist going forward and frontflips with twists moving backwards, continuing chaining flips doing combos and we used to give them silly names and had a lot of fun.

Well eventually after jumping trampoline for several years, feeling like an absolute trampoline god, we decided to step it up a bit. The double backflip was the holy grail and it became the thing i used to impress my felow trampoline kids with.

Normal things lost appeal and we were desperate for more risky things, we started doing flips on the ground, doing a little parkour, (all of it was stupidly dangerous as we were just 6 kids jumping from high platforms without any supervision) And had some broken bones among us, femurs, arms, collarbones. Didnt really think it off too much of a big deal back then, and i remember feeling pretty much invincible.

Okay. Enter me, like 13 years old, i was going to the worst trampoline place we knew because the other was closed and there was absolutely no one there, which back then usually ment i would be going back to my place because jumping alone was boring. Well whatever, now that i was there i might as well jump.

After an hour or so of jumping i got the brilliant idea of doing something new. Jumping from the inside of the trampoline to outside the trampoline was not special, we did that often with backflips, but this day i was feeling especially lucky. Now this is where my memory stops, because of what happened then.

I mentioned it being the bad trampoline yea? We didnt like it because it had no padding, and there was a thick frame Of steel beams around it, but that fact didnt stop me from trying a double backflip to outside the trampoline.

Well i didnt make it. I hit my head perfectly on the steel beam and passed out. I woke up and felt like shit. I was extremely dizzy, i didnt even really know what happened, i felt nausea and threw up multiple times, and then, i got on my bike and just drove home. All of my memory of that evening was hazy, i remembered most of it only years later it was strange.

I went home, went into my room, laid down and quitly suffered the effects of some strong brain trauma with headaches really painful. I told my dad a day later and he flipped, drove me to the hospital on the spot, they gave me an xray an tadaa, a long crack along my entire skull, from the back of my head to my brows. Fun times.

Username: mothboyi

After a long night of drinking, mostly whiskey, my roommate and myself decide to head back home. He decides that it'd be a funny idea to lay in the middle of the street between traffic, I didn't like the idea. So as he laid there I ran towards him full speed and kicked him in the ribs, he did not like this action.

He stood up and hit me three times, the effect of those punches wouldn't be known for a few hours. It was bad. We then kinda half/brawl fight/scream yell our way back to the house we're living in, just a block or two away from the bar. This little rumble down the block got the cops called and oh boy did they show up.

I'm sitting at the front of the property (after a brief bit of throwing things at my roommate from inside the house) kinda hiding out and nursing my wounds with a beer. My buddy and another pal are just around the corner chilling and having some more drinks as this SWAT TEAM comes down the driveway all fucking geared up.

I'm rather upset at the police being there and start yelling at them to get off my property, they do not react as they would in previous situations. I'm too loaded to notice they're really concerned for me.

They go around the corner to see the two guys just hanging out and realize its NOT some giant brawl and violent deal, but rather buddies who threw down. Meanwhile I'm arguing now with the paramedics about going with them, I was fine I told them... (tis but a scratch) and kept drinking my beer.

The cops realize its all calm and pull a REAL COOL move (the guy who hit me coulda been fucked if they pulled him in, previous charges and such) by just taking off and wishing us all the best.

I again yell out for them to get the fuck off my property and thats when it starts to kinda form in my mind, I'm not talking normally. This realization gets the paramedics attention, they see the change in my composure, they point to the left of me where I'd been spitting for the last hour or so. I see a very large puddle of blood and the EMT looks at me and says "Dude I CANT SEE HALF OF YOUR JAW"

This is when I noticed my jaw was in two pieces and I couldn't really see out of my left eye and my nose was broken. Mind you this was before ACA and I was one of those uninsured so that ride was expensive, but I finally realized (again about an hour or two since the hit) that my jaw was literally split down the middle completely.

Got plates and screws now. Its hard to recall, so much whiskey, but I have faint memories of the cops laughing as I cursed them out and the paramedics(emts whatnot) being SUUUUPER concerned.

Username: randomthug

I was in a really bad car accident when I was nineteen years old almost twenty years ago. I was working at the ski resort in the next town over from my hometown, and I got a call that my grandmother was dying at the hospital. It wasn't unexpected, or anything like that, but my family wanted me to be there with them.

So, I took off from work in a snowstorm. There's a knoll with a pretty hard left bend going downhill on the other side of it on the way to the hospital from where I was working. I was going the speed of traffic which was approximately 55mph just keeping up with the other cars.

Well, I got to that knoll, started turning left to go downhill, and the back tires of the car hit some ice. The tires skidded out completely, and no amount of turning the wheel into the skid brought the car back around. I slid across the oncoming lane backwards, thankfully there were no cars coming my way, and off the road.

As soon as my now hard right turned tires hit some traction on the grass beneath the few inches of snow the car immediately righted itself directly head-on into a tree. I don't think I lost much speed, so it was probably around 50mph. I wasn't wearing my seatbelt because I was a stupid teenager.

The air bags blew, and I put my head through the upper corner of the passenger side windshield. It was still a trip to the hospital in an ambulance, mild concussion, and some bloody scrapes on my forehead, but that was really it. I managed to walk out of that mangled wreck relatively unscathed.

I went to see the car at the lot a few days later. The grill was nearly touching the damned firewall. I stuck my head into the passenger side just to see what it looked like inside, and in the corner of the blood stained windshield there it was, a clump of my hair hanging down from the glass.

It was at that moment I realized that I should have been dead. There is no good reason I survived that wreck other than sheer dumb luck. That goes doubly so for the extremely minor injuries I suffered. I have a friend who was paralyzed for life in a similar type of crash just months before my own.

There isn't a time that goes by when I think about it that I also don't feel how unfair it is that I didn't so much as break a finger whereas she's in a wheelchair to this day.

I always wear my seatbelt now even if I'm just backing up to park the car in the lawn instead of the driveway. It's the first thing I do after I close the door. PSA: Wear your damned seatbelts. You probably have a 1% chance of being as lucky as I was.

Username: peachyfuzzle

In 9th grade gym class we were doing sprints across the basketball court. I’m a pretty fast sprinter - enough to have been on college track team, and in 9th grade, the fastest person at my high school. Anyway, on the last sprint that day, I turned my head to see if anyone was near me.

Nope. Ok turn head forward and OH SHIT BRICK WALL!! I was about 2 feet away from this wall and still going full speed. I jumped and tried to stop myself with with my hands which seemed to work aside from scraping my hands.

But then my right arm began to hurt. I didn’t tell the gym teacher but I just complained about to my friend for the rest of class. That happened around 10:30 am and I had lunch next. The pain in my arm kept growing so I asked another friend to arm wrestle me to see if I could still use it properly.

I beat him so I figured I was fine. Next class I had was biology and I was taking notes while the teacher lectured but halfway through the class, writing became too painful. There was a clear point in the notebook that day where I tried to write with my left hand.

By the end of the school day, I could not bend my right elbow at all. It was stuck at a 90 degree angle. I was in typing/business class and I told the teacher that I couldn’t type. He had me file papers the whole class (he returned assignments to us and kept a record of them by putting them into a filing cabinet).

Finally, the school day was over. I remember putting my coat on at my locker but only draping the right side over my shoulder. I took the bus home and was there by myself for awhile. By 5pm the pain became pretty strong.

My mom was either at work or school, my brother was at football practice, my sisters still had school for a couple more hours - not that they’d be any help. I called my dad to see if he could pick me up to go get my arm checked out. He couldn’t get there very quickly because of work but my step-mom was free.

So she came and took me to the after hours clinic, they did an x-ray and sure enough I had broken my arm pretty close to my elbow. About 8 hours after the initial break I finally got some treatment for it.

They had to put it in this weird brace and a sling because it was too close to the joint and they didn’t want to put a cast over it. Of course, the next day, everyone was asking me what I did.

Most of my friends told me I had to come up with a cooler story than “I ran really fast into a brick wall” but honestly it didn’t hurt all that bad for most of the day! ‘Twas but a scratch!

Username: hayden2112

When I was 19 I worked at an amusement park in the summer between semesters. One day a year the park closes for just employees to enjoy the rides and the water park. I decided I needed a new swimming suit so I that morning I got in my car to head to Kohl’s.

There I was in my 92 Chevy cavalier, minding my own business and rocking out to Simple Plan. 2004, baby. From out of nowhere a semi truck crossed the center lane and smashed the fuck out of my car, head on. I estimate we were both going 55-60 mph.

Dazed, I tried in vain to restart my car as I was stalled in the middle of the road. Eventually someone called 911 and an ambulance arrived. I was sort of wandering around, not sure what to do. The medics seemed shocked too and I didn’t realized how bad the accident was. The first thing he said was ‘you were wearing your seatbelt, weren’t you?’

And I was like “of course, my mom always said I need to wear one, why?” “Well we would be peeling you off of the front of that semi if you weren’t.’

Always wear your seatbelt, folks. I walked away from a runaway head on collision with a semi truck with a concussion and some whiplash. I had a small scratch on my knee.

So apparently when someone is hit hard in a crash they can seem fine while they are bleeding internally. That was why the medic was skeptical. He was so hot too, I was like “damn you can take care of me, know what I mean?” I was laying the flirting on pretty thick, in my concussion daze. I even remember saying ‘I’m glad I shaved my legs today..”

Well we went to the ER just to be sure I wasn’t secretly dying. They gave me the green light to leave. I needed to go to the bathroom so cutie medic directed me there, where I about died for the second time that day. Since I had been crying, I was a hot.

Fucking. Mess. Mascara was smeared ALL over my face and no one told me. So there I was, concussed, crying, mascara smeared and trying to flirt with the medic. I think I just melted into the floor with embarrassment and left with shame. It’s really on brand for me, I have to say.

My parents picked me up and they were sort of.. annoyed? They were like ‘why did you call us, you walked out of there.’ But then we arrived at the tow lot and my dad freaked the fuck out. My body wasn’t showing just how bad the accident was.

It was a snarled, totaled wreck and it seemed as though there was just a perfect little bubble where I sat. And it was, literally, but a scratch. It’s also a reason why I can never be an atheist.

Username: CheekyCheesehead

Ah, I am colour blind you see...So I have a higher than most pain threshold as I was a free running enthusiast and I taught some people after school and stuff. I was used the scrapes and falls and everything as it was all a learning curve

One day out on a jog a rock that was perfectly blended in with the right amount of light tripped me up. I landed but had my hands out to catch the fall. I was out if it with earphones listening to music so I wasnt able to react just right and I landed with my thumb under my hand.

Hit the ground and get up after a second. My hand hurts but like... hey it could have been worse. I had this stupid mindset that if it wasnt an injury that was free running related then it wasnt worth anything at all.

I was pretty cocky not gonna lie so if I got hurt during anything I was used to the pain and I always told myself real injuries come from REAL sport and action.

So... my thumb swells up a bit as I get home. I show it to my Dad who is ALSO colourblind (worse than me) and we basically call it a staive and I chill and go to bed. I wake up and my hand is proper swollen, but again I think it is hella bruising, it doesnt hurt bad and I in the constant mind set of "it was only a fall ppffffttt".

I genuinly go to school and all that after getting ready using one hand as to "not set the other one off while it is swollen". First class is P.E and the teacher stops me dead in my tracks and asks me what I was doing in art to get a hand like that. I am like "what? Oh no, it is probably just bruised or something as I fell on it yesterday". I raise my hand and he personally takes me to the Matron immediately.

They then call an ambulance. I then get surgery on my hand replacing the growth plate in my thumb screwed together and my wrist held in place.

TURNS OUT my hand was all yellow and shit. Yellow is a bad colour for me especially next to skin, I assumed it was bruising. But it was also violently purple around my thumb. I had snapped some thumb bones and my growth plate down the middle somehow and then spent the night chilling asleep rolling into my hand further moving and crushing the bones.

I could have gotten sepsis at any moment if I left it the way it was. If school wasnt on and it was the weekend my poor eyes and my Dad's poor eyes would have just let me believe my hand is chill and I could have passed out, had liver failure due to the sepsis or had my hand heal incorrectly and have permanent nerve damage.

Username: Moffat247

So, chef by trade, burns and cuts just kinda happen. I was working in a kitchen about 4 years ago, one of our more popular dishes featured a pan seared salmon.

We're having a rockin' Friday night, orders are getting banged out in 11 minutes, everything is smooth up front and going great in the kitchen. I'm working protein side, and spot a break in the waves of tickets.

It's about an hour before close, we generally all started to rotate out for a smoke break before we break down the kitchen around this point, so I slip out the back door and huff down a cigarette and a glass of water.

When I come back in, grabbed another glass of ice water, my saute guy, D, lets me know that he's popped a salmon in the top deck of the oven, that it should be just about ready. Okey dokey.

Note: This deck oven was a giant bitch that the top level ran roughly 440-475. I'm 5'11 and the top edge of the saute pan in the oven was eye level.

I grabbed a towel, reached in, and pulled it out, to get about 3/4 of a cup of 475 degree oil all over my forearm. I dropped the salmon pan, reached over and grabbed my ice water, dumped it all over my arm, while the entire kitchen stopped and looked on in horror.

Slapped a cold wet sanitizer rag over my arm, then reached into the bottom deck, pulled a new skillet, added a teaspoon of oil, down into my cooler, salt and pepper, spray, drop into skillet. Back into the top deck which was still open.

Then I went and stuck my entire arm into the giant tub of ice we usually kept seafood in (was basically empty except for ice because Friday night), inside the walk in, and screamed for a couple minutes.

When I came back out, D was trying to apologize and stuff. I brushed it off, he's a great kid who only had good intentions, just didn't realize you don't need a half a cup of oil to pan sear a salmon lol. I spent the rest of the night garnishing plates left handed, taking shots of whiskey, with my right arm dunked in a 22q cambro of ice water. Then we went to the bar.

Took about 4 months to fully heal, I just made a massive mixture of aloe vera and triple antibiotic, did my best to keep it covered while also letting it breathe (it looked more like I was trying to heal a tattoo the whole time), and made sure to keep it moving so the scar tissue wouldn't impede any movement.

Never missed a day of work. It looks like some weird splotchy blemishes that are fading more and more.

Username: ADrunkChef

Was drilling holes in a core box. I was a Pattern Maker at the time. So to drill these holes perfectly straight we used a magnet Drill. Basically a mini drill press with a huge magnet on the bottom and a separate steel plate for it to attach to. For the record I did have gloves on but thats only because the silver non slip coating the foundry put on the boxes got everywhere and was a pain to get out.

So I'm drilling my holes and I move to my last hole. (Keep in mind the drill and plate weigh about 100ish pounds when they are together.) It was a little off center on where the hole was supposed to be so while it was running I went to "bump" it over just a smidge to line it up. My glove then got caught in the bit and in an instant sucked my hand up and wrapped it around backwards on the bit. Like completely backwards.

I turned the drill off as fast as I could and then looked around to see if anyone notice in the shop. I didn't think anyone did. My hand and wrist burnt like crazy the glove was still stuck to the bit and I couldn't bend my fingers. But I wasn't going to say anything and kept working one handed until lunch break. I then went home and got Tylenol. And then I returned to work.

When I got back one of my coworkers Patrick told me he saw what happened and I should tell the supervisor about it or he would. So reluctantly I go tell my new supervisor Travis what happened. He tried taking me to the company nurse but she was MIA so he drove me to the ER instead.

They took x-rays and scans of my hand and wrist gave me drugs referred me to a specialist and sent me on my way. 19 year old me hadn't even bothered to ask what was wrong.

So I go to the specialist and he tells me I broke my pointer finger, and partially tore multiple tendons in my hand and wrist. So my next 6ish months was spend recovering from that split second incident that I was just going to tough out.

And after those 6 months I could still barely move my fingers or make a fist. But i kept working 1 handed at work. Was to proud to take time off. To this day if Patrick hadn't forced me to tell my supervisor what had happened I probably wouldn't have. But I'm glad I did

Username: Speak18408