At the ass end of 1992
several of us from the local bbs scene arranged to get together and paintball.

The place was way out in the sticks, and for the princely sum of $20.00Cdn (maybe twelve or thirteen pounds) we got camoflage coveralls, mask, pump-action gun and fifty paintballs. Off we tramped into the bush to the various marked out courses to make war on each other.

We selected teams and fanned out from our flags. We were in pairs, because we thought this was sensible, and my partner and I crept along the fenceline at the edge of the property.

It may be worth noting that out where we were, fences tended towards three strands of barbed wire.

So. Various firefights ensued but eventually the pair of us were behind partial cover faced with five or six people shooting at us. We decided to fall back a bit, so I rose and turned to run back.

When I came to (probably a half second later) my friend was at an odd angle and my hand seemed to be stuck. It turned out that just as I started my run back along the fence a paintball hit me in the head (full headgear didn't really exist in the sport back then, and our masks stopped well before our ears) and stunned me just enough to slip in the snow and, flailing, wrap my hand a few times with rusty barbed wire, then fall down tugging the barbs into my hand.

While I was on the ground I couldn't work out what was wrong with my hand at first and so kept tugging it, until my friend managed to get through the ringing in my ear. I managed to unwrap the wire and get my hand free.

Blood wasn't pouring out, but it was dripping at a good rate. I packed it with snow and began the (what seemed to be) long trek up the hill to the "office" (really just a big tent that had been blown up by Airwolf when they filmed an episode in the area) all the while being peppered with paintballs. I remember being alarmed at how far back I could see my blood drops on the snow.

Getting to the office, I drop the snow and inspect the damage. I had really opened up the meat of my palm below my thumb. There were smaller tears on the back of my hand and wrist as well. There was no first aid to be had, though. Not even band-aids.

It didn't hurt much, probably because it was numbed a bit by the snow. I didn't want to have to round up the three that I'd driven up there for the hour's drive back to the nearest town, and I still wanted to play what seemed to be an immensely fun game. So I got the little hotel sewing kit that had been kicking around in my car for a few years and sewed myself up.

I packed more snow on the hand to keep it numb, selected the white thread over the black (because it looked less fuzzy), used the fingers of my left hand to shove the skin up to make a bit of a ridge, and started sewing. I felt the push of the needle and tug of the thread, but it didn't hurt. I just started at one end and looped the thread every 5mm or so until I couldn't hump the skin up anymore.

Then wrapped the hand with lots of paper towels, took a mitten from the lost and found to keep the towels in place, and went back to play.

My girlfriend was well pissed off of course, when we were driving home. By that time it had already started to heal, and I cut the thread that night before bed. I never ended up going to the hospital for a shot, which I knew was stupid.

It healed fine, I never got sick, and there is only just the faintest white line to show for it.

Length? Maybe forty-five centimeters of wire, leaving a three centimeter scar.
(Ejaculantern was caught desecrating pumpkins on, Sat 22 Jan 2011, 2:08, Reply)