i said:
I'm one of those strange people who finds something helpful in trading and comparing illness and injury stories that's all.
I and i are of one mind on this. ( sorry, couldn't resist )
We used to have some of those retracting metal stairs leading into our attic. When I was about six or so I slipped down them backwards taking a strip of skin about two inches wide by ten inches long of my back. That hurt.
Outside our front door there was a scaffolding pole set as a hand railing a few feet above a low wall. I used to spin round on it, sort of like assisted somersaults if you see what I mean. It was fine going foreword, as I’d remain tucked up. When I decided to try it backwards however, the centripetal force caused the back of my head to smack onto the edge of the brick wall, lots of blood, four stitches and a very loud screaming boy.
Round at a friends house having a pillow fight I got knocked over and hit my chin on the stead of the bed that was our impromptu arena, causing me to bite through my lower lip. The most painful bit however was when the doctor sprayed this synthetic skin stuff on my lip. Man that stung, almost as much as the time when,….
On a walk I decided to feed the horses that were hanging their heads over the fence separating their paddock from the path I was on. So I went to the verge and yanked out a clump of grass, which was accompanied by dozens of bees who were slightly miffed that I’d just destroyed a fair sized chunk of their hive. As I was bent over at the time I’d more or less pulled them right into my face. Which they stung. A lot.
When I was ten or so I was playing golf with a friend of mine and stupidly stood behind him as he took a shot. The club caught me just above my left eye. The odd thing was that it wasn’t until I looked down at the blood covering my shirt that I realised how much it hurt. (it was a new shirt, first time I’d worn it, I’d been pestering my mum for weeks to buy it for me, I loved that shirt, damn.) Still got the scar in my eyebrow from that one.
The Only time I broke a bone was when I lost a bet I should never have made. I bet this kid he couldn’t knock me off my bike by kicking his football at me as I rode past. As I say I lost, went over the handlebars and landed on and broke my nose, which has never been completely straight since.
The oddest thing is how much I enjoy looking back at what one would think would be really painful memories. Even to the extent that I must confess a little jealousy over the time my best friend was running along the top of a semi ruined castle wall, slipped, fell thirty or so feet and ended up with a flint embedded in his forehead.
I know, I’m not a well man.