For me, I think it was when I was playing in the yard, and saw one of my mom’s pots of dirt for her garden, and I thought “yeah this would be good to dump on my lap”
It was full of fire ants. Big, angry, north carolinian fire ants.
I was covered in red welts and all I remember is screaming at the top of my lungs while my mom sprayed me down with a hose
I placed my entire hand on a hot iron. For more than a few seconds - super dumb and ignorant.
Ended up having my entire hand wrapped in bamdages.
Made an awkward turn while playing and had a knee subluxation. Brief agony until I “popped” it back in and insisted I was fine. Limped around for the rest of the day, hurt for the rest of the week. For several years after, it would randomly happen again, though less severe, quicker to recover, and less frequent between incidents. Didn’t bother to get it checked out since I heard any significant knee surgery would take me out of commission for some months. I’m still not sure if I’m completely over it yet. God forbid it happens to me on the stairs
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Worst I hurt myself: Older, much larger cousin broke my leg by landing on it in a bouncy castle.
Injury that pissed me off the most: At 13, I loved jiujitsu and rock climbing above all else. At my last jiujitsu class before going to California to, among other things, go bouldering in Joshua Tree, I sliced my heel badly on the metal bottom of the dojo door that had about an inch and a half of clearance from the floor.
Shoes in general, let alone those super-tight climbing shoes, were out of the question for two weeks. I’m still mad. Of all the ways I could’ve got hurt, it was the fucking door on the way out that took me down.
Take your pick:
3 years old I took a corner to fast at Mervins and almost took out my right eye on a glass shelf, 2 stitches.
6 years old I tried to do a backwards wheelie on my bike by jamming my foot in the front fork… while going down hill and carrying a load of oranges in my shirt. Went right over the handlebars, came to a stop on my chin. 13 stitches.
[…] I really wanted a broken arm, so people could sign my cast, but I never quite managed to break anything.
Went over a jump in my bike (not motorized). Got a nice amount of air time. Lost the bike. Bike went side ways. I was spread eagle over the bike. My nuts hit the something hard.
My chest hit the handle bars. Caved the chest a bit.
I broke my wrist sledding in the winter. Because I grew up in a rural area I had to wait 8 hours for a surgeon to come to the hospital I went to.
As a kid our alley in back was where all the neighborhood kids played. We all decided it was race time. Most of us were on bikes but I happened to have my roller blades on.
Important detail is that there was a pretty steep slope from one end of the alley to the bottom before it leveled out halfway down. Of course we start at the top, everyone’s getting speed and I’m focused so I don’t get the wobbles. I’m actually ahead and it’s me a Jorge going neck and neck until I hit a rock at the bottom.
I tucked and rolled (apparently about 5 times) before I land on my back and slide for another 15 feet.
Maybe it was bad enough for the ER but in that day and with my family we treated it at home if it wasn’t a broken bone or head wound. So I laid belly down on the couch while my Pops picked gravel out of my back and blotted me with peroxide and anticeptic. Overall it wasn’t as bad as some of my brothers’ accidents but it looked pretty gnarly.
I could have won dammit
1970s, uk, aged around 4 or 5, walking down the stairs carrying a glass when I tripped, Cut my right hand up pretty bad. My mum wrapped my hand in a towel and rushed me to a nearby army base where the medic did an effective but clumsy job of stitching me up - I still have a big scar but no movement damage.
I have no memory of it, but my father certainly does. When he came home from work to find the house with its doors wide open, blood everywhere, and nobody around, he kind of freaked out.
Climbed a tree, tried to jump to the next tree. Failed. Fortunately, I snagged a wasp nest on the way down. Nothing broken, anaphylaxis. Not breathing sucks. (I lived.)
wasp nest on a tree??
no, please rather don’t respond, especially not with an image, I don’t want to see it!
(I lived.)
Phew Thank you for that closure.
Slipped getting out of the bath when I was about 12. My foot hit one of the metal poles supporting the sink, with my little toe going one side and the rest of my foot the other. My foot tore on impact, leaving my little toe hanging off.
I bandaged it up, and kept changing the bandage when it was soaked through with blood and it eventually stopped bleeding. I have a scar on my foot, but other than that no lasting damage.
I accidentally slammed my picky toe into a corner once and I’m pretty sure I broke it. But I was scared to tell my parents, so I just wore socks around the house until it healed.
I don’t think it healed properly either. If I feel the edges of my picky toes, I can feel a difference between my right and left. Using standard anatomical terms of location for clarity, the toe that got injured has a pointier joint on the medial edge, with the distal bone of the pinky turning slightly more laterally than the uninjured toe bone does. It doesn’t hurt today and doesn’t cause me any issues, as far as I can tell.
It still sucks that I’m not the only one who felt the need to hide an injury as a child.
Let’s see…
- Accidentally stapled my thumb before school. Had to remove it before I left.
- Twisted my ankle from jumping off the swings and not landing correctly.
- Braked too hard on a wet, wooden surface on my bike and flew off it (I do mean flew, it was quite a few feet horizontally, and about 2 feet vertically in the air.)
- Playing catch with my father and got hit about an inch from my testicles. Thankfully no damage to them, but it hurt about as bad as you can imagine.
Surprisingly, no bones were broken, and I wasn’t an outdoorsy kid either.
Bike riding in the 80s and jumping ramps, the slope was too high and sent the bike upward so I let go (bad plan) and supermanned myself across the pavement on my chest. I had vertical road rash stripes all down my front.
Not me obviously, but you should look up the accident Adam Devine had as a kid. Pretty serious, but it is hilarious how he talks about it. His leg is so crazy knarley
Here’s a clip of him discussing it on Conan. Crazy story
I went camping with my family, was probably seven or eight years old. There was a sign right next to our camping spot to notify people about something not to do, who knows what the message was in reality but I like to imagine it as “do not bend this sign backwards to use it to catapult rocks you find laying around nearby”.
Anyway, while my parents were preoccupied with setting up our tent, my makeshift catapult hit me right by the eye. Thankfully it did not actually injure my eye itself, just huge cuts both above and below the eye, but I had a pretty good talent for screaming at that age regardless of which part of my body was hurting. I remember after an hour or something my parents kept pushing that all the other campers were going to think I was being abused, and then we packed up and left our week-long camping trip a couple hours after arriving.