And the minor ones....
When 10 or so...
Friend jumped off the shed roof and onto the grass. I did the same but landed on the path. Knee hit jaw, Jaw got dislocated, Friend p!ssed himself laughing

Same friend wanted to jump his bike off a ramp. Only large flat thing in my garden was an old car windscreen. Like any sensible 10 year old, I laid on the floor, holding the windscreen above me (at an angle) as my mate rode towards it.... then bunny hopped onto it. 1 hospital visit to sort our bruised ribs and glass in the eye.

Same friend decided to shoot me with an air-rifle from about 5 feet away - another bruised \ cracked rib.

Jumped off a the trailer of a lorry (parked near the woods near my house) - Landed fully on a 6 inch screw that effectively "nailed" my welly to my foot.

Licking an envelope (birthday card or something) - Sister pulled envelope away - very large paper cut on tongue and side of mouth.

Got annoyed with same sister one christmas - jumped on her etch-a-sketch and smashed it.... while barefoot.... iron-filing-goodness and a tetnus injection needed.

Sister in front-room. Me peering through the door-jam taunting her. She slamming the door on me, trapping my nose.

Sneezing while wet-shaving. foam in eye as I try and stop bleeding as I took top off my nose off with "safety" razor. (was older than 10 at this point)

Dad working under bonnet of a car he had just bought. I sounded the horn. dad jumped. and skewered his head on the bonnet latch.
(knuks Lurking for 12+ years, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 17:26, Reply)

Couple from the distant past of the late 90's/ early 00's
I haven't have much in the way of broken bones, or testicular torsion as seems popular here. I've never even been stung by a bee or wasp.

However there are a few moments of pain that I remember from my childhood.

~~~Wavy lines time machine ~~~

It was nearing christmas and I was about 7 or 8 makeing it either 1999 or 2000, and me and the family were heading out to get a Christmas tree. Walking along the edge of the pavement and trying to balance I fell towards the road. As I fell towards the unforgiving tarmac, my mother, who was holding my hand at the time, tried to save me by trying to pull me upwards. However due to the nature of gravity and the way i was falling instead of stopping mid fall I swung towards the even more unforgiving corner of the pavement.

A trip to A&E, a cracked skull, and 7 stitches later I found myself at home with a weeks worth of sweets and cartoon network playing for 3 days solid.... a result for my younger self.

~~~moar wavy lines ~~~

In year 9 or 10 at school whilst running around during a break time a large gust of wind blew something into my eye. Everything was fine until I blinked, scratchy feelings on the eyeball are unpleasant, so a trip to the nurse's office was in order. She holds my eye open and then decideds its best to go to A&E as there is a small shard of glass in my eye.

At A&E they tell me to take a seat and try not to blink or rub that eye... 8 hours later a doctor sees me and within five minutes the shard is out of my very scratched eyeball and I am handed a saline solution to wash my eye with for the next few weeks. Trying not to blink or touch the swollen eyelid is very hard for that amount of time.
(eggs and spam *insert witty sig here*, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 17:22, Reply)

At around the age of 12
My friend and i discovered a wasps nest in a patch of tall grass at the edge of a field.
For some reason that i still cannot comprehend, we decided that it would be a good idea to attack the nest with bamboo canes.

Being the first in the action, the wasps naturally decided that I was their main threat, and they piled on to me. After i had dropped my cane and run, screaming, for a hundred or so metres, the majority of the wasp cloud had decided that their duty was served, and buggered off back to the nest.

With a fair amount of adrenalin coursing through my veins, and with the threat not yet over, I had not registered the pain of the 15-20 stings on my arms and neck. I was more concerned that a significant number of wasps were on my groin area, trying their best to get their little stings though my trousers and y-fronts into the fleshy delights beneath.

Not wanting to touch them, i agitatedly suggested that my friend assist in getting the bastards off. Naturally, he decided the best way to do this was to whack them off with his bamboo cane.

This was quite bad, and somewhat degrading, but honestly the worst pain was the 6 stings on my feet. They lasted for ages and would become irritated again if you walked.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Fri 30 Jul 2010, 17:19, Reply)

Football
Many moons ago I had a quick game of football in the local park, nothing serious just a kick around.

After about five minutes of the game I overstretched going for the ball and ended up in a heap on the floor with massive pain to my right knee.
I looked down to see that my kneecap was not in it's usual place but was now at the side of my leg, I straightened my leg and it popped back into place, the pain made me pass out.

I couldn't put any weight on the leg for three months and was still walking with a limp two years later.
( Terry Oblong There's nobody here but us chickens on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 17:16, Reply)

The List Goes on !
Growing up the nurses at my local hospital actually knew my name :-)

This is waht I can remember :

Cricket ball in my eye.

Broken leg, playing football.

I severed my Heel off (15 Stiches).

Stepped on barbed Fishing hook - neeeded injection in between my toes, so the nurse could dig it out (because it was wrapped around the bone in my big toe) (4 stiches).

Managed to cut into my finger damaging the ligaments - I was messing around with a pen knife & managed to thrust upwards (trying to cut a wooden door) & the force of me pushing up snapped the blade over my finger (3 stiches).

attacked by a dog (no Stiches needed but it was bloody scary).

Broke mt Big toe (went black & the nail fell off).




I am sure if a child did this today they would have social services round :-)
(AdmiralPellaeon, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 17:04, Reply)

Cyst + cycling = all better now
Part The First...
A few years ago I had a cyst (bursar?) start growing in \ on my knee. started small (as they do) then ended up the size of a golf ball, half in and half out the gap behind he knee-cap; not really painful, just annoying. Had MRI scans etc and after 6 months of consultations was sent to hospital for the removal. Stayed in the hospital overnight, saw the surgeon who discussed the procedure etc... then the consultant saw me again. He asked if anyone had drained the cyst before now - I said no, so he went away and came back with a large \ evil looking metal syringe with an even bigger needle and started jabbing it into the cyst (more than 10 , less than 50), drawing off what could only be described as watery angel-delight; Same colour and cosistnecy, just a different taste (I suspect). Consultant looked pleased and sent me off home.

By the time I got home, cyst had started "re-filling" . As I had "cancelled" the operation, they could not fit me in for another few months.

Part The Second...
a month or so later I took my son cycling over the local woods \ copse and found some bright sparks had built a ramp over a large depression in the ground - We started jumoping it on the bikes (Did I say I was 40-ish?). All going wonderfully well - even got a troop of cubs \ scouts ? watching us as we sailed over the mud \ wood \ cans \ rubbish left in the hole. All went well until I went a bit to far and fell off. scouts loved it , son p!ssing himself with laughter, me trying to smile and laugh it all off. Waited 5 mins until they all walked away (probably discussing the stupid old geezer) so I could lift my hands away from my knee and pull out the 5 inch spliter of wood that had gone through my jeans and into my knee, neatly (all-be-it dirtily) puncturing the cyst and causing rancid angel-delight to pour down my knee again :)

Ahhh... to be 40 again....
(knuks Lurking for 12+ years, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:47, Reply)

Back when i took jiu jitsu
We used to laugh at the tae kwon do kids and their boards. Then we saw some guys breaking concrete blocks...

We were very successful until I decided my head would break one.
I woke up in a hospital room seeing double.
But I broke it! And a tiny piece of my skull.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:42, Reply)

Most painful wank of all time
When I was young and stupid - as opposed to now when I am old and stupid - and horny, I hit upon the idea of using washing-up liquid as wanking lubricant.

NEVER, EVER DO THIS!

It stang. It stang. It stang. IT STANG LIKE A HORDE OF FIRE ANTS HURLING THEMSELVES GLEEFULLY UP MY JAP'S EYE.

I screamed. I SCREAMED.

The pain faded gradually over 2 days and I was too scared to wank for at least a week. But when I did - WHOOOSH!!!
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:38, 4 replies)

Pay attention when using an axe, kids.
I was cutting up some dead branches in the back yard one afternoon to make a small fire for the evening, and was using an axe to cut them to length. I held the branch in my left hand and the axe in my right, close to the head to keep good control on it. I chopped a notch with two blows, then turned over the branch and hit the back of the notch to break off the chunk. Chop, chop, turn, crack. Chop, chop, turn, crack.

As I worked my younger son came out to complain to me about something his older brother had done. I told him to take it to his mother, as I was busy. He told me that she was in the shower getting ready for work and had told him to come talk to me about it. All the while I was continuing to cut and was getting increasingly irritated at the fact that their mother couldn't even deal with a petty squabble and hit the branches harder. Chop, chop, turn, crack. Chop, chop, turn, crack. Chop, chop, turn, CRACK! And the chunk of branch flipped up and caught me in the right eyebrow.

I dropped the axe. "FUCK!" I put my hand to my forehead and felt the blood flowing already. I went into the house and called for Nurse Ratched.

"I'm getting ready for work!" she snapped.

"I think I need to come with you. I just had an accident."

"WHAT?!?" She burst out of the bedroom in her granny pants and bra. "What happened?"

"I got hit by a branch."

"What the hell are we going to do with the kids?" she screeched, the veins already popping out in her face. "I have to go to work!"

"We'll take them to my sister. Please hurry up, the blood is dripping down my elbow now."

She stomped back into the room and I heard her call my sister. There was much chatter and some giggling, and all the while a small puddle was forming on the floor. After a couple of minutes I called up to her. "Look, I'll just drive myself in, okay? Just tape some gauze in place and I'll go."

She reappeared at the door, phone in hand and still in her granny pants. "You're in no shape to drive!"

I looked at her for a moment. "And you are?"

She stomped off again as I went to the kitchen to get a new paper towel and find the tape and gauze. I was about to apply it myself when she reappeared and grumpily did it for me. "You should wait for me to take you to work."

Right. I'll just wait here bleeding while you do your hair and makeup. That's certainly sensible. I said none of this, of course, but just said "Please tell my sister that I'll get the kids when they're done with me."

Twenty-three tiny little stitches later...

Best part: two weeks later my eyebrow was still sore, so while at work I took a closer look in the mens' room mirror. I noticed a small dark spot that looked different from the rest of the scabbed over area, and touching it sent a sharp pain through my eyebrow. I gritted my teeth and took a drip on it with my fingernails- and pulled out a nice little splinter of wood that had been in there the entire time.

Length? About a quarter inch that had been embedded at a slant.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:30, Reply)

Shit do I have a lot of these...
I'll start out with one of my more idiotic ones.

Long ago I went to school for forestry. That's right, I have an official degree as a lumberjack. As I grew up cutting trees up for firewood for heating and have dropped a lot of trees over the years, this becomes even more pathetic.

I was working in the yard at my house, cleaning things up and cutting back the overgrown stuff when I decided to cut down a weedy little tree that was right in the middle of my yard. No prob- I got out the chainsaw and the gas can and the bar oil and got to work. A small time later the tree was on the ground without incident.

I walked along the tree trimming off the branches with the tip of the chainsaw, thinking about where I was going to pile all this crap so I could burn it, and was consequently not paying sufficient attention. I cut through a branch that was folded over under the tree when it let loose, kicking the fast-moving chainsaw across the top of my knee.

I stood there for a moment in shock, the chainsaw still running, not daring to look down. Well, I'm still standing, I thought. It couldn't have taken out the ligaments, so it can't have gone in too deep. I can feel blood running. I'm standing, so it can't be that bad. The blood is running down my calf. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I can't look down at this. I'm at home alone. I have to take care of this. I can feel the blood running still. Nope, can't look down.

I shut off the saw, put it away, put away the gas and the oil, still feeling the blood flowing. I climbed up the stairs into the house and went to the kitchen, dropped my jeans and took a look. FUCK. I cleaned it up with a wet paper towel, then held a dry one on it. FUCK. I'm home alone and more than half an hour from a hospital and I drive a stick shift. FUCK.

Only one thing to do. I got out a roll of packing tape and wrapped my knee as tightly as I could and drove to my kids' pediatrician who was about ten minutes away.

I entered the office and asked the battleaxe behind the counter for the doctor.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but-"

"Then you can't see him. He's booked until Tuesday next week." She glared at me from behind her glasses, her cat's arse mouth pursed in disapproval.

I leaned closer and stared her in the eye. "I just had a chainsaw accident."

She flinched. "You're bleeding on the floor, aren't you? Okay, come back and sit on the examining table..."

The pediatrician knew me and teased me a little about it as he stitched my knee, but did an excellent job. I drove myself home and told Nurse Ratched about it, who promptly went through the roof for not driving the extra half hour to the hospital where she worked.

When it came time for the stitches to be removed Nurse Ratched brought home a little kit for removing sutures, had me sit down in a rocking chair and went to work. As she has the gentle delicate touch of a blacksmith, I very nearly barfed on her head.

Length? Twenty four inches. I used to take down very big trees.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:29, 2 replies)

Knee operation
I was 10 years old when this happened - 27 years ago - but the pain lives with me now.

I was larking about innocently at home with my siblings one day when I knelt on the floor and felt a sudden sharp pain. It was excruciating, but the only sign of something being up was a tiny scratch on my knee.

After a day of me walking around in sheer agony, my parents decided to take me to the hospital. An X-ray revealed that I'd somehow managed to get a sewing needle lodged behind my kneecap.

So I had an operation under local anaesthetic to remove it. Only problem was, it was a tricky bugger to get out, and the more the doc dug around in my knee, the further he pushed the needle into my leg. This went on long enough that after a while the anaesthetic wore off...

Yes, I had doctors digging around inside my knee - a sensitive joint at the best of times - with no anaesthetic. Did I scream? You betcha.

Eventually, they gave up and stitched me up, then had another go a few days later with me under general anaesthetic. I heard later that they'd used a massive electromagnet to draw it out. Why couldn't they have done that first time, the motherfuckers?
( smutch, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:15, Reply)

I've been reading this whole sorry parade of appalling fuckups, violations and huge, huge quantities of blood
and thinking 'gosh. other people lead much more interesting/horrific lives than me. i don't have anything on this scale i can possibly contribute'.

I have no idea why I've been thinking like that. It's only just occurred to me, but I have a COLOSSAL FUCKLOAD of injuries, and the scars to show for it too. The only trouble with picking my 'ouchiest moment' is one of excessive, not limited choice. Two of the highest-ranking candidates are, unfortunately, excluded from this tale because I know exactly what kind of accusations they'll bring down on my head, so you don't get to hear about them. Also, while I've been injured a large number of times, I've never had anything really serious like root canal work or rectal abscesses or stepping on a stonefish; all my injuries are firmly urban, sober and basically dull. Quantity wins out over quality. So:

Getting my cock pierced: you'd think so wouldn't you? Actually it didn't hurt in the slightest because the guy anaesthatised it. I did, amusingly, bleed from the crotch for a week because I insisted on using it, even though I wasn't allowed to put it inside the then Ms Falstaff. She just had to put up with being sprayed with large amounts of bloody spunk. And I heard more 'so you're on your period' jokes than I care to remember. To the point where they were painful to hear. That doesn't count you say? Fine. On to...

Getting my ears pierced: Much better. I got a vertical industrial that didn't heal for a year, and was constantly red, swollen, oozing and bloody in turns. I couldn't sleep on it, it was always throbbing, and people thought it was funny to poke it, like when you get jags at school. It wasn't funny. It was SORE. Also, stretching earlobes is painful as hell if you do it too fast. What's that? No sympathy? Brought it on myself? You might be right. Let's talk about...

The huge number of scars I have on my skull: The tradition of gaining scars on my skull started at the grand old age of three, when, bouncing on a mattress, I slipped and plummeted headfirst into a Fisher Price house, banging my forehead open on the chimney, gaining a scar I still have, and, because it was Xmas, prompting endless jokes about trying to be Santa Claus*.
I've had a half brick bounced off my head, neatly opened an area exactly where my bald spot should be with a stepladder (which now due to the scar, looks like a bald spot; people laugh at this of course), and gone down on my face more times than I can count while drunk and twice while having a spack-attack. Not to mention one time I had to have staples in my crown, and someone at work decided the best way to show she fancied me was to hit me in them. Someone mentioned earlier that you don't really 'remember' pain properly, and I agree, but nonetheless every single one of these episodes fucking hurt, as anyone who's ever banged their head should know. I swear if I ever shave it, it'll look like The Canals Of Mars. I also have lots of sections of grey hair poking through.

Somebody burned my hand with a lit cig at a party once: Actually, that's the entire story. Sore, but yawn.

Being tattooed on my chest: hurt, like a BASTARD FROM HELL, for solid hours at a time. Not only was there a vibrating needle or five running right over the bone with nearly nothing in the way of skin or muscle to protect it - although certainly plenty of nerves - there was the ever present feeling that at any moment the needle could slip and jam straight into my throat, which made it so much easier to relax and let the pain pass me by. Would not recommend.

But the most painful thing I've ever experienced doesn't involve being walloped, poked or scarred: ladles and jellyspoons, I proudly offer you...the humble urinary tract infection. Ever since I was the proud owner of my very own UTI, I've had a lot more sympathy when ladies bitch at me about them. It honestly feels like you're pushing lumps of shrapnel and chili through your dick when you piss, and you need to piss a lot. I would also argue that guys have it a lot worse on this front than women (a daring statement to make at the best of times; hell hath no fury etc) but do bear in mind that we have about twenty times as much urethra as you do, girls. So narr. Good thing we rarely if ever get them. I'm going to leave it to your imaginations as to how I got; I'm certainly not going to admit to pushing plastic rods down my cock because I heard it makes wanking better...er, shit, delete, delete!!





*People laughing at my pain seems to be a recurring theme. Callous bastards. The very thought.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:55, Reply)

Never wear glasses while moshing
because when you inevitably bang your head against your friend, glasses like to dig into your face and make it piss blood.

I staggered into the ladies, still spraying blood like one of those paint machines and made it look like someone had been doing some field heart surgery.

Eventually Clare (the only female friend there at the time) came in to see if I was OK. Despite the fact that those manky bogs were always full of boys, they were all too scared to go in this time.

The club reacted admirably to this first aid scenario. While waiting for an ambulance by the door I was handed a damp (and not necessarily clean) bar cloth with which I caught the drips.
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:51, Reply)

Urethra ranklin'
I was a bit of an early starter when it came to self-abuse. Not of the Opus Dei type, you understand, but... you know, down there. Whether or not this had anything to do with the kidney stone that got lodged in my urethra at an age where I still thought pink was a legitimate colour of the rainbow, I don’t know, but what I can tell you is, that hurt quite a bit. The artisans in my number one workshops had evidently crafted an ornate crystal object d’aaarrgh which was too spiky to piss out (I’ve always assumed it was a Skull of Doom), and over the course of the morning, my little soldier swelled up to look like Fatman from Metal Gear. Also not pleasant. Eventually I was whisked off to hospital for an emergency circumcision. Yay me! Off I went to the anaesthetist’s room, where I met a real live Australian! That was a good bit, I’d only seen them on telly before, although disappointingly everything about him was the right way up. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I woke up screaming. Fellas – imagine being bitten by a phosphorous ferret, who grinds its pyrophoric incisors right around your bell-end and won’t let go. Gentlewomen – same thing but ‘bean’ instead of ‘bell-end’. It was the crowning glory of this pain pageant – or rather, morning glory. I had cracked a stiffy in my sleep and popped the stitches in my special purpose. Parents, please take heed of this story and ensure your little ones are properly hydrated at all times. I would far rather have spent my childhood sealed in a milkchurn full of Lucozade Sport than have to go through that.
(electricteeth, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:48, Reply)

Back when i too jiu jitsu
Edit: what the fuck happened here? I hate doing this from my phone. The story is up somwhere.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:44, 3 replies)

sore bits
When I was 14 I couldn't keep my hands off my cock. I still had the idea, however, that wanking was bad (this was the late 70's..there were still pockets of misinformation out there in the countryside). I had the bright idea of piercing my foreskin as I thought this would make it more likely to leave my cock alone. This is a bit of a leap of imagination but I'd recently discovered in the adults section of our local library a series of novels about roman slaves having sex with concubines, and this involved chains and whips and lions..and the hero had a peirced cock too! I think I actually fancied myself as a muscled roman stud...with a pierced cock.

The actual piercing wasn't that bad (ice cube, needle and deep breaths)

The resulting infection was!

Within 3 days or so I had a rash all over my cock end. Puss was oozing out the hole and it stung.

Fuck me did it hurt..like my cock was being burned with fire..it was red and swollen like it had been stung by wasps.

I still had to go to school. I would waddle along the road trying to prevent my cock from touching anything. I seem to remember spending most of my time sitting quietly in the library....no more dirty books for me though...

The rash spread over my cock then moved to my balls...it all went crusty...and then miracle of miracles it cleared up!

Within a few weeks I was as right as rain. My thoughts on the evils of masturbation where put aside (well, the alternatives where just too painful weren't they)

I still have a little tiny scar where the hole was.

length: very red and hot and larger than usual
( spitsticker is not working on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:37, 2 replies)

Prompted by bolshevette's story...
...I am minded to tell the story of my own recent circumcision (June 9th, thanks for asking).
I'd had problems with the skin on the old fella splitting when stretched, so following a cursory look from the GP, I was referred to the urology department at the local hospital. Another cursory inspection, this time by the registrar, ended with the immortal words, "We'll book you in for a circumcision."

The day duly arrived and I found myself on the day-case ward, fully fasted, expecting to be knocked out cold for the operation itself, but the consultant and anaesthetist had a surprise for me:

Because I'm over 40 and have a history of chest problems, including asthma, they felt it was safer for me to have the operation under local anaesthetic.

To be fair, I didn't feel any pain during the operation, and only mild discomfort in the aftermath, but the giving of the anaesthetic was the most uncomfortable experience of my life.

The anaesthetist deferred to the consultant for him to do it, and the consultant delivered what was described to me as a "ring block". This is nothing to do with the rim of your toilet bowl or the old barking spider, despite the name, but in fact amounts to being injected 5 or six times around the base of your cock with a very large needle, and a significant quantity of something-ocaine being forced in.

[Insert joke about taking away the pain but keeping the swelling]

I'll never know how I managed not to cry out, but my toes curled almost completely around the end of the trolley.

But of course, that wasn't the end (see what I did there?) of my discomfort. (Incidentally, no fancy bandages for me - just a piece of gauze to stop me sticking to my underpants)

The wound isn't healing properly, with the scar tissue building up too high, and continuing to ooze, making the inside of my undies look a bit like the Turin shroud.

So I went back to the GP this week. He produced a pencil, but not any old pencil, a silver nitrate pencil, which he moistened and ran along the scar.

For the non-chemists among us, silver nitrate is a caustic substance that burns through scar tissue. Unfortunately, it also burns through good skin when accidentally drips on to the head of your knob. Cue more toe curling.

Let's hope that does the trick, eh?

Length? About half an inch less than it was originally.
( Snappyuk gets BIGGER with free sample., Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:36, 1 reply)

A few.....
....Cut my face open on a bollard when I slipped over.
Again cut my face open while swimming with my eyes shut and nutted the edge of the pool. Yet again cut my face open on a flower pot while doing a girly cart wheel when I was a kid.And guess what cut my chin open when I slipped and chined a wall. I look a bit like leather face now.
Most stupid one was trying to open a glass ship in a glass bottle when it decided to emplode in my hand!
(I Love Noodles, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:35, Reply)

BS 1363
There is nothing that quite compares with the sudden pain of waking in the middle of the night, blundering through the darkness in the direction of the bathroom, and putting your full weight - via the soft flesh of your heel - directly onto the three blunt prongs of an upturned UK 13-Amp plug.
(Simian Typewriter Supplies Pty. Ltd. is house hunting in the neighborhood of infinity, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:34, 1 reply)

Not me...
Someone I once worked with at a well known (in art circles) warehousing company in NE London...

We were moving a VERY heavy and very famous 'sculpture' of a Shark in a Tank within one of the company's warehouses when due to a sudden attack of itchy bollocks I let go of some lifting equipment which lead to major component of the afore-mentioned work of art landing on a colleague's toe. Resulting in the most ear piercing, soul rending, pitiful scream I have ever heard uttered by a human being.
( bigmeuprudeboy is using powerpoint or paint...have MERCY, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:34, Reply)

One of my more fond memories of school was during a game of British Bulldog at about the age of 16
When I watched the school bully snap his achillies tendon clean in two. It all happened in slow motion as I watched his toes touched his shin, and the constant girlish screaming until he was taken away in the ambulance.

Oh good times.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:18, 2 replies)

DON'T TOUCH MY FOOFOO.
Around the age of 6 I fell off a wall fanny first onto a rock. It must have been fucking painful because my mum told me it took 2 doctors and 2 nurses to hold me down while they stitched me up. This was in the early seventies before some bright spark thought that sedating kids while they have stiches would be advisable.

I still have the scar.
( girlinthehole, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 15:05, 8 replies)

Surgery
April 2008 - Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham.

I had to have open heart surgery to correct a defect I had since birth (Tricuspid Valve replacement for those that care). Now I know what you're thinking: 'Major surgery? This must be painful'. Well it was. I vaguely remember coming round in the post-op ward and not knowing what the fuck was going on except that my family were at my bedside looking worried and I was in PAIN (and that was with the morphine).

The morning after surgery wasn't too bad; I was absolutely fine as long as I didn't move around...just a dull ache where the sternum was healing. However, the worse pain was when the drain was removed. A tube, about a quarter inch thick and maybe 1.5m long (although the entire length wasn't inside me) was taped into place about 3 inches above my belly-button. It is used in the first few hours after surgery to remove any pus or whatever may leak from around the site of the operation, ie, my heart. Inside my chest. My sore, sliced-up,severely bandaged chest. To have a nurse slowly pull it out of me was the worst pain I ever felt - a really weird sensation to feel something moving through my body like that.

When the end finally emerged I was white as a sheet and didn't speak for about 40 minutes, until I could get over the bizarre levels of pain and inconvenience I was experiencing.

Apologies for crap narrative style but I'm hungover
(ConanTroutman thought we would free the vulture, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:58, 1 reply)

Kid injuries.....
1) Split my head open when I was five while knocking down my back garden fence with a hammer. Holding a claw hammer over my head combined with the manic enthusiasm of a five-year-old was always going to be disastrous. Hammer bounces back, claws go straight onto the top of my head. Didn't even cry 'til the disinfectant was brought out. Well 'ard me!

2) Still have a scar and a lump on my horehead from when I tried to raise my swing seat by spinning it over the top. Big wooden seat slams straight to the forehead. Ouch!

3) Took a rock hard football straight to the face when I was about seven, resulting in the loss of my two front baby teeth. That, combined with my floppy step haircut and an oversized villa jersey made me look like a proper mong for ages...

4) Broke my arm when I was eight after managing to knock down a local fat boy, "Eggy", in a game of bulldog. My second, and last game of bulldog ever.

5) Pushed the front brakes of my bike while going down a hill of about 45 degrees at a very high speed, resulting in a flying boy and a shredded stomach (and shredded villa jersey - 10 Atkinson on the back)

It's amazing I was ever allowed out
(El_diablo_blanco, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:42, Reply)

Quadbiking in Egypt
Mrs Lardy and I took our two girls to Egypt a couple of years ago on a cheap package deal. Of course, this meant that the first day, meeting the tour company rep, we were bombarded with information about all the excursions available. We had already decided on the obligatory trip to the pyramids and the boat-trip/snorkelling, but also decided that we'd like to do a quadbike safari, into the desert, to watch the sunrise.

We've been out for about an hour, I have our eldest on the back of my bike and Mrs Lardy the youngest. We're riding at a reasonable pace on decent tracks when, for reasons unknown, suddenly, my left front wheel digs in to gravel, the bike turns immediately 90 degrees left and smashes into the only tree for miles. The left handlebar smacks into my wrist causing it to swell to twice its size, the right handlebar makes gouges across my chest, belly and thigh as I am catapulted from the bike in our original direction of travel, aided by a sixteen year pillion old who was not holding on. I hit the floor and have the wind knocked out of me, by her landing on top of me. I was a wreck, she suffered onlt a ripped knee of her trousers and had to drive the bike (with now flat tyre), back to the tour operator.

Did I get any sympathy? Of course not, my beloved family proceeded to tell every person they met that I had crashed into the only tree in the dessert. Gits
(lardyboy Next stop, Fissplap Central, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:36, 3 replies)

Pea from the Doctors/Nurses/NHS whinge QOTW
Not my ouch, but anyway...

When I met my (wonderful, love of my life, should have told the story in the Flirting QOTW) boy all was well in bed. Better than well. Awesome. Except for one thing. I'm not an expert on the male anatomy, but you know the bit that's meant to be able to go back and forth? It just... didn't. Occasionally it would go back, but getting it to go forth again was difficult. Very difficult. And red. And sore.

Combined with my concern for my dearest beloved and the continuation of his sexing abilities, I didn't really fancy having to deal with blood and viscera should it ever happen to explode. This looked likely on occasion. So, after much cajoling I got him to go see the doctor.

Doctor's response? Bang, no sympathy, booking you in for a circumcision, put your trousers back on.

Cue much worrying (over Xmas) and anxiety and buying of DVDs for the inevitable week of housebound-ness (BattleStar Galactica SE1-4, watched it all in three weeks). The day rolls round. Had to wait a bit, but nothing you don't expect for the NHS, and annoyingly, they wouldn't let me in to wait with him or hear any of the post-op instructions. Did see older couples going in to day surgery together, perhaps they thought my youth meant I'd start stealing drugs and graffitying the screens.

So anyway, he comes limping out, looking a bit green, and we decide he'll get a taxi home while I walk, giving me the chance to pick up some painkillers - yup, they don't give you anything, even if you beg for morphine.

I get in the door about 10 minutes later to the worst thing I have ever seen.

I don't know if anyone here (barring doctors and nurses) has seen a newly circumcised penis before - even if you've had it done, you're told to leave it bandaged for 3 days so unless you're bizarrely fascinated by the sight of your own cock covered in blood, swollen to three times its girth, with stitches all around the head, I doubt many people will have witnessed this. It was horrendous.

The bandage, the amazing techno bandage we were told would last three days had come off in the taxi. The nurse hadn't taken the plastic off the side that sticks to the wadding. Tool. Luckily, he'd be skeptical enough about the three-day rule (as in "erm, how am I meant to piss?") to get them to give him spare kit, but we were still faced with the oozing, enormous (in a bad way) cock to deal with and no idea how to get the bandages to work.

Cue 10 minutes of practice which, if they were bad for me, must have been 40 times worse for him. Every touch is murder, and I'm mangling away with sticky bandages and tape. Didn't help he'd failed to trim his (luxuriant) pubes - ever accidentally anchored your penis to your body, tip facing up, by catching a pube in tape, then standing up? The force of gravity either rips the pube out or pulls the tape off. Either way, bonus pain to add to your experience.

I don't want to be too down on the NHS but the complete lack of advice and post-op support (phone line was always busy and didn't work weekends so we had to go to A&E when he popped a stitch, who were great) was just unnecessary. It would hardly cost any more to have provided us with a leaflet, let me ask some questions, and to put the fucking bandage on properly in the first place.

We call it the week of the Frankenpenis.
(bolshevette, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:29, 3 replies)

Old-skool pool gym tool uncool
As a 13 year-old, my weekday mornings would start at 4AM with porridge in the pre-dawn darkness, dressing in a pair of budgie smugglers and a tracksuit, and being driven to the aquatic centre for swimming training before then heading off to school. I was almost quite good too, but a bit more slow to develop than some of the more advanced specimens of bulged-lycra manliness (and indeed budding womanliness) about the place. Many days, we'd swim a little for a warm-up, towel off and head into the gym for a session and then head back into the water.

Back in time, exercise bikes used to have enormous flywheels with fan blades attached perpendicular to the direction of rotation, for resistance. The wheel was situated where a normal bicycle front wheel would be, but protected by a wire mesh cage, all welded together and industrial-like. The torque and momentum the wheel develops when you get a good clip up is awesome, and it's fun when it's time to dismount to just stand one-footed on a pedal as you swing your other lef off and let the slowing, but powerful motion of the flywheel lift you up and down a few times.

Of course, if you're doing this in bare feet...wet bare feet...and your foot slips inwards towards the crank or whatever it is you call the arm the pedal's attached to, which is sharp-edged metal, then as this metal makes contact with the puffy soft moist oh-so-tender skin at the inside edge of your heel it will tear your skin, and continue tearing a huge great frigging strip of it right off along your instep all the way to the end of your big toe, where it will dangle flappingly, as you stare down at it in fascinated horror....still slowly going up and down on the pedal, too dumbstruck to get off.

Here's the weird part though, it hardly hurt a bit. Everyone gathered round to go "ooh" and "ahh" because times were different then and you din't as a kid say "holy fucking shit check it out you can see like his *foot-fingerprint* pattern and shit on the muscles where the skin was!" in front of the coach. It kept not really hurting. My manliness points are climbing sky-high right now as I stand on it, walk about a bit with the big skin-flap, reach down, and just *tear it fucking off* like a real hard man. Ha.

Riding the crest of this wave of unexpected testicularity I decide to continue to impress the ladies (one in particular, and I never did...you know..because...) and carry on. The edges of the wound were really neat, adhered to the underlying layer, and there was no real blood seepage. The coach agrees that if I feel fine swimming with it then the chlorine would probably do it the world of good.

Finish gym stuff. Out to pool. Up on blocks. Puff meagre chest out imperceptibly of course. Prepare to do the thing I'm the very bestest at, my awesomely huge and powerful dive...

lets's go slo-mo underwater now...

and imagine if you will the feeling, as time grinds to a merciless pace just perfectly adjusted to bring the maximum possible horror, as the first odd sensation of the edge of the wound, out at the tip of my big toe, starts to separate in the rush of water. Eons pass as the water pushes ever further under the tender skin, insistently peeling back the pad of the toe. I know how to stop it, of course, stop the forward motion, but the force of the dive and - at the ball of the toe the same thing starts to happen; peeling, flaying, the edge has separated all the way back to the heel and the hideously palpable rush of eater over a fresh layer of flesh never meant to see the light of day let alone unspeakably chlorinated be-peed in pool water at high speed.

Fair dinkum, underwater I squealed like a little girl.

I ended up with the entire sole of my foot basically acting as an open bag attached at the tip of my toe, the edge of the ball of my foot, around the outside of the sole and back to the back of my heel. Tears do not show on a wet face, but pallid, shocking agony does.

The coach months later when I could return to the arduous regime of before-and-after-school training, but chose not to, was kind and comradely talked about how with that amount of training missed at my age it might take me years to catch up anyway. He knew I knew what he meant and that I knew it as well as he anyway - I was just no match for the early growth monsters, the hirsute 13 year old 6 foot 85 kilo giants with basso profundo voices and needing new Speedos every couple of months due to, well, growth.

It healed just fine.

EDIT: oh yes, and I have also sliced my penis open in a hang gliding accident involving a barbed wire fence, but other than the details, it's the same story.
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:24, 1 reply)

Pain free! for now...
Nineteen and still, no broken bones, no stitches, no fillings or dental work and no major surgeries of any kind. But a god awful pain in my hands for the past two years (cramping, aching, searing pain down ring and baby finger etc etc). Ive been passed from Rheumatologist to Neurologist and finished up at the pain management clinic. Where I have been informed steriod injections into my Ulnar nerve will be the next step, with a one in four chance of success *YAY* I'm a girl who has avoided the dentist for two and a half years through fear I'll need a filling.. My Grandad had it done and said it was really painful. Then when I said I was going through the tourture he said the pain was non existant. To top it all off both hands need doing, so I have to go through it twice. On top of the avoiding the dentist, I passed out reading about; scarification (no pics inc), seeing a photo of someone with an accupuncture needle in their ear and watching a youtube vid of someone haveing the contraception implant.
What the fuck am I going to do!!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wm3jXYrs_O4&has_verified=1
(MissFlee tried again on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:24, Reply)

Metal Mouth!
A friend of mine (well i say friend) broke my jaw a while back.

We left the club in high spirits and attempted the arduous journey back home when all of a sudden he decided it would be a laugh to punch me in the back of the head.

As my vision rapidly changed to that of someone head-butting the ground i decided my best course of action would be to stick my arms out and break my fall.

This would normally have worked a treat but as i was a touch impaired i wasn't able to put my hands out quite far enough. This meant that it was down to my jaw to step up and take the impact full on.

After he dragged me out of the road I noticed a small pool of blood dribbling over my lip so I called him every name under the sun then set along my merry way back home.

It was only after 20 minutes of continuous failed attempts at lighting a smoke I realised one of my teeth were sticking out at a 45 degree angle and I was spurting blood everywhere so I did what every rational person would and carried on walking to find a shop for more smokes.

I was extremely lucky in reality as I chose to pass out from loss of blood right as an ambulance was driving past.


Oh and I couldn’t have surgery on my jaw for a week because a bunch of ungrateful bastards kept getting in car crashes and pushing me down the surgery list.

But at least I got 3 nice big shiny lumps of metal in my face as compensation.
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 14:19, Reply)