When I was at college, we did a pioneer experience for one of our classes. The first day we stayed in a cabin and the second day we camped outdoors. First thing in the morning of the second day I was working on getting a fire started, but most of the wood was wet, since it had just rained the night before. I decided to make some wood chips to make it easier to start the fire. I picked up a small log, stood it on end and chipped away at it with a hatchet. I was doing rather well, but my fellow classmates kept telling me that I was crazy, that I was going to cut my thumb off.
Well, I did it. I missed a swing and cut my hand, the meaty part at the base of the thumb, a nice v-shaped cut. I immediately cupped my hand to stopped the bleeding and said out loud, �I did it!�. Because I was covering my thumb in the process of trying to stop the bleeding, some of the guys thought I had actually cut my thumb off.
I went over to the leader who was supposed to be watching over us and told him that I was bleeding. He said, �well, let me get a bandage.� I told him that I didn�t think that bandage would help in this situation and showed him the cut. He was shocked, and agreed that I needed to go to the hospital. So, he put me on a trailer along with another guy who rode along to make sure I would be ok, and drove me back to the cabin. From there, he called another guy who picked me up and took me to the local urgent care center, but it was early so it was closed. He then rushed me at 90 miles an hour to the next town to another urgent care center that was open.
Fortunately the cut wasn�t very deep, and it missed major arteries, veins, and tendons. The doctor had a terrible time trying to numb my hand. The medication felt like fire going in, and he had to shoot me up about 6 times. Even then, I still felt about half of the stiches go through. With only 11 stiches, it would been less painful if he would have just stitched me up. I ended up pulling the stiches out several weeks later all by myself. Kind of a weird sensation really.
I have a nice v-shaped scar now, and I have a tingly sensation when I press on the area, but I still have full use of my hand.
In the 5th grade everyone went to "Outdoor Camp". It was a "big deal" because we got to stay overnight for a whole week and do all kinds of fun things. Every morning the girls in my cabin would walk down the hill to the dining hall to have breakfast.
One morning I was fooling around. I pulled my arms into my sweatshirt, originally because I was cold. When some girls laughed because I looked funny I started clowning around, swinging my arms and making goofy faces, making the arms of my sweatshirt swing around. I was being so goofy that I didn't watch where I was going, slipped on the dirt on the hill going down, and fell and scraped up my left knee badly.
That made the girls laugh even MORE, and looking back I'm sure it was funny, but it made me mad at the time. I knew enough to wash my dirty cut, but I was so mad and I was now late to breakfast that I barely got any water on it.
A week later my knee hurt so bad I had to be sent home from school, and my mom finally took me into the doctor. I ended up almost losing my kneecap from the infection that had spread and grown from my not washing my cut properly. I now have a neat scar on the left side of my knee to remind me to always wash cuts. And, be careful if you are clowning around on a hill.
I've broken 2 bones...those were the worst injuries I've had.
When I was about 5, I broke a small bone in my foot. My cousin (who was a guy and a year older than me...in other words, BIGGER than me!) was jumping from the couch to an ottoman. He got me to try it, and all was going well. We were having fun! Then he decided to pull the ottoman farther away from the couch so that we could jump farther. He made it just fine, so I tried it. And did NOT make it. Crack.
When I was 8, that same cousin and I were throwing water balloons off of an unfinished porch. The boards weren't properly nailed down, but of course we didn't know that. I leaned out just a little ways to get a better aim, and the board tipped up. I fell 7 feet to the ground and fractured my arm. What is amazing is that I didn't kill myself -- I fell right in the middle of 4 cement blocks. They were in a small circle, and I fell in the open space. But just my arm was broken, so my parents took me to the doctor and he set it.
Needless to say, I've avoided dangerous activities with that cousin since then!
When I was in second grade, my friend Michael and I went to run up his stairs when his dog freaked out and attacked me. I've still got one of the three scars he gave me.
When I was a little older I tried to slide down a basketball goal like a fireman's pole. Fireman's poles don't have bolts holding them together, but as it turns out, basketball goals do. That left me with a gash that went from just above my ankle all the way up to almost my knee.
I also was running through the woods once and ended up running into a barbed wire fence. That's responsible for 3 small scars near my lip still.
In high school, I was riding on a friend's car and fell off, fracturing my skull. No scars from that, but I did get my sense of smell messed up. I also think it affected my short term memory a little bit.
When I was about 10ish, one of my mom's horses got her halter stuck on a tire of an old boat trailer out in the pasture (I dont know why it was there either), and somehow in all her jerking around and franticness, slide up under the trailer, which is how I found her when I got home from school that day. So in my concern for her still squirming and kicking to get out, which was tearing up her legs pretty good, I figured if I sat with her and petted her til my mom came home, it would be alright. I sat a little too close to her body and got kicked in the stomach and face - right underneath my eyebrow. I called my mom at work and told her what happened. Ambulance showed up a few minutes later. 1 mm lower and I would have lost my eye is what the dr told me. scar there. there's also a scar on that same left eyebrow from where my sister hit me with a baton; and another where I fell and hit the corner of a waterbed frame. That's three, there's a forth scar there that is in the middle of the eyebrow where hair wont grow now, so it's just a split in the middle of the brow. The Lord wanted me to keep my left eye, thank you Jesus.
About 2 months ago I was riding a 3 year old (young) horse dragging fire wood to camp. To make a long story short ; the horse spun around before I could stop him and wrapped the rope around all four legs, blew up and broke in two. I rode him for a bit but boy could he buck! He kicked me before I bit the ground. Broke a bone in my hand. Two weeks later I was trimming a horse with one hand in a cast and it fell on me and broke my foot. Then the next day I figured maybe God wanted me to take it easy for awhile; so I put on a pair of shorts, got a lawn chair and a book and set outside to read. Got sunburn so bad I couldn't wear clothes for 3 days. I am almost all better now, go for x- rays next week.
When I was around 5 or so I was riding with my dad in his '66 Impala on the way to my grandma's (I think). It was real foggy and there was a car stalled in the middle of the highway at the bottom of the hill with no lights on.(I got most of this story from my mom after I was older) My dad was always a fast driver and this was the days b4 seatbelts. He rear-ended the stalled car going probably 60-70 mpg (knowing him). I remember my Dad grabbing at me and the car spinning around about a bazillion times and then I woke up in the hospital. Apparently the only thing that kept me from going through the windshield was because I was inpaled through the neck by the gearshift. My larynx was damaged and I still have a bad scare over my left eyebrow and above my top lip.
