Is That Cancer or Something Else Growing In My Neather Regions?
Back when I was twenty one my boyfriend and I decided to try some oral stimulation of our sex organs. Well a few days after he left to go back to Texas I noticed a painful blister like bump on my private parts. I was too embarrassed to tell my mother about it because that would mean that she would find out about our little sexcapades. So I went to the local library to check out some medical books to see why I had this huge strange bump down there. I was in a panic when I discovered that I could have a cancerous tumor or a VD( though my boyfriend and I were virgins).

Well I was scared to death about this bump and thats when I discovered another bump on the other side of the first one. Then the first one got bigger and a bit infected. Finally I gave in and admitted to my grandmother ( who used to be a nurse) about my problem. She checked me out and laughed when I told her that I possibly have cancerous tumors or VD growing "down there." It turned out because my boyfriend was giving me oral pleasure almost every day(as well as it being my first time for a guy to do that) my vaginal glands had swollen to an uncomfortable size.She explained that these glands were the female version of the male prostate and so they swell like a prostate does when stimulated sexually. Grandma recommended hot baths and compresses to the swollen glands, and after a few days the glands finally popped. Now I know not to panic if my glands get swollen since it's probably because I'm horny.
(FoxqueenUSA, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 4:32, Reply)

ah, another one!
i was like 8 or something and i had a bike, it kicked ass

so i was cruisin one day when i ran into a large rock, tumbled over the handlebar and landed in some gravel. i got up and there was an inch wide rock sticking out of my knee, i just about died from shock but i managed to run into the house and cry to mom. she washed off the big ass meteor first, managed to pull the thing out (i couldnt look at it after awhile so i have no idea how she did it), rinsed the big-as-hell crater out and proceeded to apply toothpaste to it - yes toothpaste, dont ask cos i didnt. so i had to go face the other kids on the block with toothpaste in my crater but it did make an awesome scar.

probly months later i was out riding the streets again. i pulled into the backyard and got snagged on a root,again i go over the handlebars but this time my pelvis got caught on one. immediately i undid my pants and looked to find a huge strawberry looking rugburn type thing probly right over my ovary, it bruised like hell... since i bruise so easily. i cried to mommy. the end :D
(The Monkey's Significant Other, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 3:33, Reply)

an earlier post reminded me of this one...
or two i guess

i was probly 5 or 6 and i liked to climb. anywhere. like the couch, a table, the shelves at the grocery store, trees, etc.
i had the coolest idea that i should climb mom and dad's chest o' drawers which is about 6' high (my best climb yet!). it has a nice plate of glass at the top of it to make for easy cleaning or something like that, and it has about 5 or 6 drawers. i made it to drawer 3 and the damned thing toppled over onto me and onto the bed.
my sister was watching me that day and she nearly fainted because i had a 6-8 inch gash on my thigh... probly from one of the handles and boy it bled! the glass missed my head by inches but since i landed on the bed with this damned thing on me, it bounced and somehow whacked my head, giving me a nice bump and probly killing lots o brain cells :P

i also went through a really late clumsy phase between junior and senior year in high school and i'd hit my head on everything... car doors, house doors, desks of all kinds, trees, even some people. im surprised i still have a brain, it should've ran away by now heh.

i was also a master finger slicer... when i was young. i was fascinated with the dude from yan can cook, hes the guy who chops things reeeally fast. i thought i could do it with a cucumber so i got a long knife, held it up a bit and proceeded to come down not on the cucumber, but onto my left index finger. i didnt use too much force so it didnt slice through completely but it was stopped by my nail i think, so i had this half inch long flesh flap on my finger, i showed it to mom and she went nuts.
(The Monkey's Significant Other, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 3:19, Reply)

Why I have a phobia of pissing standing up
When I was a little kid, surely no more than eight yrs. of age, I was peeing in the bathroom at home. The seat, of course, was up (one doesn't leak on the seats except in public, does one?), but unbeknownst to me I had somehow imbalanced it. Imagine, therefore, my surprise when the seat came down just as I was finishing up and slammed home ON MY DICK.

My dad, on entering the bathroom, found me lying on the floor yelling in pain... and although I wouldn't show it to anyone else, I do recall that I had a bruise 'down there' for about a week afterward.
(Dr.Whogivesaratsarse, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 3:12, Reply)

i also skewered my thumb
on a fondu fork.not very embarrassing i hear you say..I was trying to cook fish fingers on my heater.
(That guy with a hat., Sun 5 Sep 2004, 2:16, Reply)

i broke my pinky running down the hall like an aeroplane.
I'm thirteen years old and this happened 6-8 months ago.lovely visit to the hospital where my mum spoke loudly enough about how i broke it to make old ladys laugh.
(That guy with a hat., Sun 5 Sep 2004, 2:11, Reply)

fat little apprentices
My chubby little apprentice was messing about trying to put a screw into an appliance...sheer frustration at the time he was taking to perform a simple task forced me to elbow my way past him to pick up the screw he inexpertedly kept dropping on the floor. I stood up all pissed off and superior and cracked my head on an open cupboard door. He laughed and I punched him.
( bezmanstar, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 2:04, Reply)

oo oo oo another one.
Our staircase has a very low point where you have to duck so as not to hit a wall where a room juts out over it.

As you probably guessed I once didn't duck just as I had gained a false sense of security and now always ran as fast as I could down them, missing out steps, you know.
Any way I hit my head on the wall but my feet, legs and lower torso carried on down the stairs. The very base of my coccyx was the first thing to hit anything finally coming to rest on the very edge if a step.

It hurt... ...a lot and I thought I’d broken it but the pain went off after a bout 2 hrs so is didn't seek medical attention. The morning after I felt a large lump where I had fallen so I decided to be safe and go to the doctors the last thing I wanted was a deformed pelvis.
they said it was a haematoma or blood blister which slowly builds with pressure causing slowly more and more pain over about 2 weeks, oh and goes rank. The doctor then asked if she could show a colleague, it ended up that 15 were staring at my naked lump/rump.
I had to keep going to the local NHS walk-in centre (so called because you walk in and don't come out again with out sitting down for least FIVE HOURS!! something I personally found hard to do I may add) to have it re-dressed. Only to be constantly complained at by 45 year old female nurses because the adherence of the bandaging materials was compromised by the hairiness of the problem area.

I was in college during this time, which I went to on the most unsuspended bus in west Yorkshire. By the end of the first week I was in constant pain and spewing things I can only describe as strings.

Then one night it suddenly went really painful, I’m talking more painful than when I did it here. I was sick with pain; I know what its like to give birth I should think. Then it exploded in a pussy fountain of pain-ending ecstasy and healed into an annoying scar I have never seen because it’s physically impossible (and hairy).

I have so much more hate of speed bumps than any of you could ever muster.

Sorry.
(96Sparki, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 1:33, Reply)

I was playing...
... 'catch the peg bag as it flys off the new rotary washing line' when i was about 11 and broke my arm falling off a bucket.
(That 'off' is not a typo btw i upturned the bucket to put the peg bag back on.)

i must of been very board and unlucky as i fell about 50cm onto grass and broke both forearm bones at the strongest point right down the middle. i come to the conclution grass is hard(and i'm a midget)!

end
(96Sparki, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 0:49, Reply)

Ive told you this before for an answer but it fits...
A friend, so desparate to show me her vibrator, whipped it out of her draw so quick it smashed right into my face, giving me a black eye. Gave mum the old "Walked in the door" excuse"

Anther was in art college when someone shoved a skateboard at me (this was in class) so instead of me goinf flying or having broken ankles, I jumped on it and it stoped. Laughing at my glory my legs swung behind me causing me to fall horizontal downwards, pulling a bag and pencil shavings with me, smaking my head...i couldnt get up for half an hour.
( Blobcat Less Jaffacakes this year, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 0:21, Reply)

Straw Bale Wrestling
An old tradition held by me and an old mate when we were about 13 was the old bale wrestling. One day during one of many trips to the bales a certain move left my mate lying, writhing in pain. I was also left dazed, but awoke to find him having what seemed to be a heart attack. He thus said 'ugh. my heart. call an ambulance'. So. I approach him and ask him if hes ok. He wasnt. I start to walk home and send for help and i hear a sigh of relief followed by faint cynical laughter. Turned out that a needle that he had put in his shirt earlier to prepare for any tearing of clothing that may occur had been lodged deep into his chest. A big fuck off 2inch needle went straight into his chest. Upon pulling out the needle thankfully the pain subsided... No wonder he thought he was having a heart attack. And that marked the end of straw bale wrestling. For a while...
( siredsmithjr, Sun 5 Sep 2004, 0:04, Reply)

Car
I have always been a very hyper, distractable child. When I was about 10, walking in the parking lot of a bowling alley, I decided to challenge my dad to a race back to the car. There weren't many cars in the parking lot. I was running at full speed in the direction of our car, and smacked myself into a parked car. It was bright daylight when it happened. I still find joy in recounting my tale of idiocy.
(Luna loves you., Sat 4 Sep 2004, 23:00, Reply)

still hurts, alot.
I, in my stupid teenage mind thought it would be a good idea to jump over a bush without looking at what was on the other side, it happened to be a bench. In my panic i fell on my side on the bench and consequently my head, i might have some broken ribs. whenever i breathe i recoil in pain.
(Thatguy, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 22:24, Reply)

It was my mums fault
When i was about 9 or 10. Could have been 11. Maybe 12 at the outside...
Anyway my family, mostly my sister, being involved in a pastime of the equine nature (she rode horses)had the small horse box out in front of the house - like the one in that james Bond film where the plane comes out of the back.
My job was to go inside and get a piece of horse equipment out, so i ran up the back ramp towards the front where everything was stored.
All good, so far...
It was dusk, the light wasnt too good and as i charged forward my chest was restricted from forward movement by the sodding great big bar which ran acoss the compartment to stop the horses moving forward. My feet werent so restricted and maintained forward propulsion

I would like to have said i did a somersault as it would have been impressive. Yet i didnt. I just rotated 90 degrees suddenly and ended up with my head bleeding copiously in some straw of dubious cleanliness (horses get nervous in those things) and an irrate mum calling me to get a "bloody move on and stop messing about". The bitch.

my length makes my apologies
(monkeyseemonkeydo, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 20:01, Reply)

I'm typing this with my left hand
since I broke my right one last month. It was at Paramount's Canada's Wonderland. You know amusement parks at the end of the day, you want to get in as many rides as you can and there aren't any lines, so you scramble over the line gates and things. I made the mistake of trying to keep pace with two 6'4" twin brothers who also happen to be four stone lighter, and can hurdle.
To my credit, I cleared the first fence. I tried to hit the ground running, and this was my downfall. I stumbled, and flailing smashed my hand down on another railing.
For those of you that know what a spiral fracture is, I needn't say more. For those that don't, I will say that I have twelve stiches and will never pass a metal detector again. The doctors say I will probably be able to play the piano again in a few months, with the help of painful physiotherapy.
(Random Ferret, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 18:13, Reply)

I'll tell my story later
but this one belongs to my son, husband and brother. Idiot husband decides to let son "play" in the van with his sister. DH's sitting next to it, reading the paper and suddenly, it starts to roll down the driveway. (We still don't know how it happened. Van was in park and turned off)

He jumped up to push down the footbrake, an impossible feat and couldn't keep up with the momentum of the van and tried to dismount. The door closed on his leg, trapping him and pulled him off his feet underneath the van. I hear four year old son screaming and fly out the door just in time to see him run over.

He has the skin on the entire front of his shin peeled off, a triangular hole punched in his ankle and tire marks on his calf and thigh.

The van rolls down the hill, across the street, into a field and hit a tree. Airbags thankfully did NOT deploy as they probably would have killed the unrestrained tots in the front seat.

It doesn't end there. DH refuses to go to the hospital and helps my brother move a few days later. Brother's new house has an outdoor jacuzzi half full and unused for the entire summer. Brother is a frickin' water chemist for god's sake! I assume the damn thing is clean after he treats it. No--he "just fixed the pH" It's full of Pseudomonas aeruginosa,a really vicious bacteria that is antibiotic resistant. Stupid asshole.

Husband catches it, develops full-blown septic blood poisoning, has to go to hospital and have IV antibiotics for a week which is a big deal in crappy-private-insurance-America and is sick as a dog. I was actually worried he might die.

Still not the end. As a result of the huge infection, he develops such severe arthritis in one hip that he now walks with a cane at 47 and needs a hip replacement as soon as possible.

He's still pissed off at my brother.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 17:34, Reply)

Baz the Scrimmer
My mates, Baz and Will used to clean windows. One day Baz, bucket and squeegie in hand, falls of his ladder and knocks himself out on the ground. Panic, ambulance, and hospital soon follow.

Baz wakes up as a nurse is trying to remove his shorts and begins to argue that he would far rather 'keep them on, thanks' but she insists that as his bucket spilt over them he has to remove them. Fine.

Baz returns to the sceme of the crime to find that his bucket is miles from where he fell and he had in fact pissed his pants whilst lying, KO'd, in a hospital bed.

Ha Ha Ha!!!
(castro, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 17:22, Reply)

My cousin
was getting out the car, when my uncle closed the door on his finger. When my uncle noticed the door hadnt shut properly he opened it and slammed it shut again, twice as hard.
(Pigmash, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 16:41, Reply)

Upon Reflection
All of many many injuries have embarrassing stories attached. And witnesses. Like yesterday. At work I use 2 PCs, and swivel / scoot my chair the 1 foot or so between desks. Except the chair got caught in the strap of my bag and remained stationary, my arse however kept travelling. I smacked my chin on the desk, fell sideways onto my bin and then the chair fell on me. Getting up (in front of 15 workmates) involved knocking my coffee cup all over my jeans. Quick dash to the Ladies to clean up chin-blood and soggy groin area and then walked into the door. I am so cool, truly I am. My boss has bought me shinpads so I stop bruising myself on the desk panels. Aw crap.
( Strangey is present at, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 16:19, Reply)

My wrist
i was managed to sprain my right wrist 4 times in a year, all completely innocently just looked really bad
(Bored, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 16:03, Reply)

I Take People With Me...
A few weeks ago at a Friday work function I fell backwards off a barstool, knocking myself out. No memory of anything after. I was concussed and unable to coordinate myself. Luckily there were only a few of us left, and they decided I needed to be home. Up the escalator we went, with 2 lads holding me up. They let go, I fell on one of them, who fell on the other and we landed on another girl in a heap at the bottom....Someone ran over to us and turned off the escalator as we were being grated.

I spent the weekend not clear on how my injuries were sustained. Horrible feeling. Total beer-fear. Monday - you can imagine the tales. Ugh awful awful. Nice stripey escalator scars on my back though.
( Strangey is present at, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 15:18, Reply)

embarrassing injuries
A few weeks after my 16th birthday I jad saved enough money from washing pots to buy myself a little motorbike. Being an Evel Kenevel wannabee I spent some time seeking out a 50cc bike that had had its' engine replaced with that of an 80cc engine.

I had to bring it home on my big brother's trailer as I hadn't insured it yet. However, by about midnight the excitment (and the spliffs, alcohol and valium) got too much and I decided to take it out for a test drive.

The electricxs were dodgy and the headlights didn't work, but I decided the unlit country roads would be less likely to contain cops.

I had heard about a nightdriving technique which involves watching the tops of hedgerows (the sky is always marinally lighter) to guide yourself along. It's a shit technique.

I rode straight into a horizontal metal bar that hit me in the chest while my bike continued into the field.

I got home and went to bed rather sheepishly. The next morning I woke up to find myself in a lot of pain and my bed clothes stuck to me with a lot of dried blood. Two metal spikes on the bar had pierced my neck. I had also fractured my sternum (the bone that holds your rib cage together) and dislocated my spine.

My misery didn't end there however.

A week later I was waiting for a bus (while my bike was being repaied). I yawned and stretched and my rib cage broke in two with a loud crack. I hit the floor like a sack of spuds.

I moaned "get me an ambulance" to the old lady also waitin for a bus. She called the police instead. Suspiciois bitch
(globalloon, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 14:42, Reply)

too many to mention


I am famous to my friends for my spectacular falls and scrapes. Amazingly I have never actually broken anything, the closest I got was a dislocated shoulder which I tried oh so manly-like to fix myself. I had been very very drunk and ran full pelt over a busy intersection. My friend was running with me and being just as drunk as I was he ran right in front of me. I managed an excellent somersault and landed on my shoulder. The next day gravity had decided to pound itself into my shoulder to the extent that I could hardly get out of bed or get dressed. A half bottle of whiskey later and I was ramming my poor beaten arm into the wall and screaming "Just like Indiana Jones!" I still haven't had it fixed so I must have managed to put some of the bone back in. I hope.
(hung_low, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 13:47, Reply)

Can you smell something burning?
My mum asked me to check that the iron was turned off....
"No it isnt" I say, removing whats left of my charred digit from the metal plate on the underside
(Bebop4ever, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 13:22, Reply)

Oh. How could I forget
For years, my story of "How I rolled my car" was the same one I had given the French police - that coming around the corner, I had hit a patch of gravel, the car had started to go off the road, and in my haste to get back on the road, the over-compensations left me side-on in the road, but with all of my momentum still travelling down it.

That's almost accurate. Except for the bit about the gravel. Truth was, I was looking at the river at the side of the road (kayaker, so quite interested in inspecting rivers), and by the time I looked back, I realised I hadn't made the complete turn that the road required me to take...

On the plus side, I managed to get out of the car, set up the warning triangle, and get the first aid kit out (for the scratches on my elbow). What I couldn't get across to the helpful French people (who didn't speak English, and I didn't speak French), was that the nasty gashes on my head were in fact from a completely unrelated incident, where I had hit my head on the boot door that morning.

Hmm. All my stories seem to involve cars. Maybe it's true that the brain ceases working as soon as I get in one.
(Damien_The_Unbeliever, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 12:47, Reply)

Not me - a mate
I was on holiday, with my mates, and doing all of the driving. Got in the car one day, Ian was getting in the seat behind. I close my door. Ian makes a strange sound. Then draws my attention to his fingers, which up to the first knuckle, are inside the car. The rest of his fingers/hand travel around the door pillar, and in through his open door.

I was impressed that 1) The door managed to latch completely, and 2) Nothing more came of it than some rather odd marks.

Still not found out why he needs to wrap his hand that far around the door pillar just to get in.
(Damien_The_Unbeliever, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 12:42, Reply)

Two Beauties
Both left scars dead centre of my fore-head, still clearly visible now. First was when i was about 3 give or take, and involved me getting a little too close to a metal swing. A classic spang ensued, and either from being 3 or taking a mighty whack to the head, i dont really remember much else.

The second came about 5 years later. Saw my cat and, being young, chased it. Around our car. Just as my brother gets out. Left a perfect line down the middle of my forehead, about an inch or two long. Car doors arent that sharp, but can still do some damage if you run into them fast enough! Got some sticky stitches for that. Was proud of my battle scars at the time. Oh the joys of youth!
(Graz Da Frog, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 12:25, Reply)

Running over self
Okay, so I'm driving back from the Lake district to York, after enjoying a nice new-years couple of days with some friends. There are four of us in the car, it's looking like it'll be a long drive, there's still snow on the ground, and I'm getting a mite peeved with all the traffic in front of me.

"I know," someone said, "Why don't we find a back-road route to avoid all of this traffic?" No sooner had these words left my mouth, then my brain decided to disconnect completely. The first turning, which we took to the right, was stopped almost immediately by a gate. Why I hadn't seen the gate before making the turn, I don't know, but there we go.

So, I decide to fight my way *through* the traffic to the road on the opposite side. Quite a snowy road. One on which no gritting had taken place. As the road started winding upwards, there were a few moments when the wheels slipped, but we were generally making progress.

However, the steepness of the road increased, and so did the amount of wheel slippage. Then - suddenly, we could see the end. Just six feet away, the road was completely free from snow. However, the car just couldn't seem to make those final six feet (might be something to do with all of the kayaks on the roof, all the people, their kit, etc).

"I know," someone immensly stupid, and no longer using their brain said, "let's get out and push."

The three passengers took up their positions behind the car. I took up my position at the drivers door, to steer, and to release the handbrake. They braced, I removed the handbrake, the car moved forwards two feet. Then Andy slipped, the two girls couldn't help keep the momentum, the car started slipping downhill, and they ran out of the way. Quickly.

I, however, love my little car, and didn't fancy having to fill in the insurance form, so I reached back in the car to apply the handbrake. This didn't seem to stop the car, so I also attempted to steer the car towards the wall on the right hand side. By the time I had done this, my feet were approximately level with the front of the wheels, and my legs were bending in an impressive way, under the door.

Once the car had come to a halt (thankfully using a previously created dent in the car to cushion the blow with the wall), my friends were a mite concerned, since they couldn't see me. I was a mite concerned, because I had felt the wheel travelling OVER part of my legs.

I pulled myself upright, appeared to be in one piece, got everyone back together, we got in the car, and then went and joined the traffic jam again, me enjoying the rush of adrenaline that only a near death experience can create.

The next day, however, I discovered the bruising running from approximately my Kidneys down as far as my knees, and couldn't walk properly for about two weeks.
(Damien_The_Unbeliever, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 12:06, Reply)

When I were a nipper...
...there was an adventure playground near my home. You know the sort of thing: loads of planks of wood cobbled together shoddily with twelve inch nails, rope swings that didn't, huge colourful wooden logs...

Anyway, there was this thirty foot wooden slide which all the other kids used to slide down on bread crates, but me being a devil-may-care lad, I decided to forego the crate and slide down on my arse.

Cue much screaming and inability to walk as an 8cm x 5mm splinter (read: log) embedded itself in my right buttcheek about halfway through my journey and managed to completely bury itself during the rest of the slide so that we couldn't get the end of it to pull it out.

Spent six hours at the hospital having my arse sliced open and the offending article removed. Still have the scar...

Edit: Just remember: I also have stigmata on both feet. One from stamping on a piece of wood with a nail in it in our garden when I was about four, and the other from doing the same thing in a derelict building aged about fourteen, both of which went right through my feet. Couple those with my appendix scar, and all I need to do is pierce both hands and get a crown of thorns...
(ReLiC, Sat 4 Sep 2004, 11:34, Reply)