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You've all got scars: they're nature's little reminders not to be so damned stupid next time. My favourite is the 1/4" round hole in the back of my right hand, created when I was 7 by my best friend putting a manure-covered gardening fork "away".
Tell us the stories behind your scars. With photos if possible.
( , Fri 4 Feb 2005, 10:00)
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About 4 years ago at work, I was finishing up the last car of the morning, just before noon. I was putting away a can of aerosol glass cleaner. Right after, I heard an odd tearing sound, then noticed my arm felt numb. I looked down, and to my horror my arm was torn open, exposing fat and muscle, but surprisingly it wasn't spurting blood as one would expect. In fact, there was no blood at all. Went to the hospital and required 20 stitches.
So what happened? The complete idiot I worked with had left a razor tool (blade on a screwdriver handle) on top of a stack of terry cloths, and when I put the aerosol away it spun round and fell to the ground, slicing me in the process.
Today, the scar resembles a flying saucer, or female genitalia, depending on how my arm is positioned.
Apologies for length, etc.
( , Fri 4 Feb 2005, 18:29, Reply)
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