physically or emotionally?

Parents told me I’m the cause of all their problems.

1970s, uk, aged around 4 or 5, walking down the stairs carrying a glass when I tripped, Cut my right hand up pretty bad. My mum wrapped my hand in a towel and rushed me to a nearby army base where the medic did an effective but clumsy job of stitching me up - I still have a big scar but no movement damage.

I have no memory of it, but my father certainly does. When he came home from work to find the house with its doors wide open, blood everywhere, and nobody around, he kind of freaked out.

Tried to stop a garage door of close up and broke my arm.

Climbed a tree, tried to jump to the next tree. Failed. Fortunately, I snagged a wasp nest on the way down. Nothing broken, anaphylaxis. Not breathing sucks. (I lived.)

I placed my entire hand on a hot iron. For more than a few seconds - super dumb and ignorant.

Ended up having my entire hand wrapped in bamdages.

Take your pick:

3 years old I took a corner to fast at Mervins and almost took out my right eye on a glass shelf, 2 stitches.

6 years old I tried to do a backwards wheelie on my bike by jamming my foot in the front fork… while going down hill and carrying a load of oranges in my shirt. Went right over the handlebars, came to a stop on my chin. 13 stitches.

[…] I really wanted a broken arm, so people could sign my cast, but I never quite managed to break anything.

Made an awkward turn while playing and had a knee subluxation. Brief agony until I “popped” it back in and insisted I was fine. Limped around for the rest of the day, hurt for the rest of the week. For several years after, it would randomly happen again, though less severe, quicker to recover, and less frequent between incidents. Didn’t bother to get it checked out since I heard any significant knee surgery would take me out of commission for some months. I’m still not sure if I’m completely over it yet. God forbid it happens to me on the stairs

Bike riding in the 80s and jumping ramps, the slope was too high and sent the bike upward so I let go (bad plan) and supermanned myself across the pavement on my chest. I had vertical road rash stripes all down my front.

As a kid our alley in back was where all the neighborhood kids played. We all decided it was race time. Most of us were on bikes but I happened to have my roller blades on.

Important detail is that there was a pretty steep slope from one end of the alley to the bottom before it leveled out halfway down. Of course we start at the top, everyone’s getting speed and I’m focused so I don’t get the wobbles. I’m actually ahead and it’s me a Jorge going neck and neck until I hit a rock at the bottom.

I tucked and rolled (apparently about 5 times) before I land on my back and slide for another 15 feet.

Maybe it was bad enough for the ER but in that day and with my family we treated it at home if it wasn’t a broken bone or head wound. So I laid belly down on the couch while my Pops picked gravel out of my back and blotted me with peroxide and anticeptic. Overall it wasn’t as bad as some of my brothers’ accidents but it looked pretty gnarly.

I could have won dammit

I was 11 or so, on holiday, went horseback riding wearing shorts and thin socks. They set up my stirrups too low and as I held on to the saddle for dear life, one stirrup kept bouncing on my ankle for the entire afternoon.

My thighs chafed pretty bad, and I got an open wound on my ankle about the size of those souvenir pressed oval coins. I don’t know what my dad was thinking, but he treated my wound with some cream and then wrapped my whole calf in plastic wrap every day for about a week.

The wound turned into an ulcer, I couldn’t walk without limping. I had all these little pockets of pus on the edges which my dad had me squeeze to try and make them smaller. It did nothing except be painful.

I eventually went home to my mom - a nurse - who took one look at my leg and rushed me to a doctor.

The doctor then proceeded to vigorously clean my wound before dressing it. It felt like hot barbed wire, that really sucked.

I still have the oval scar on my ankle.

Tripped and fell while playing basketball on a rough asphalt court skid like 3 ft on my face scrapped and peeled 80% of my face and got grains of asphalt stuck in my face. To the point they couldn’t get them all out and took a chunk out of my nose.

Got hit by a car. Blacked out. I have some scars on my face from being pushed into the road.

Not me obviously, but you should look up the accident Adam Devine had as a kid. Pretty serious, but it is hilarious how he talks about it. His leg is so crazy knarley

Funnily enough, mine’s also garden-pot related. I was playing with my sister and our friend and I tripped over and faceplanted into a terracotta pot. It could’ve been a lot worse because there was a cactus in it, but even as it was I needed six stitches.