Any good scar stories

And you call THAT the tractor story?

 

I had my own incident with a glass storm door when I was, I think, 7. I had a friend over in my backyard kiddie pool and decided it would be a good time to do an imitation of Adam West’s Batman and try to swing into the pool from the clothesline.

Except I couldn’t quite reach the clothesline, so I opened up the back storm door, stepped on the back step and reached for the clothesline. The screen door slammed into my back, and cut it up. I ran to my front yard where my parents were, and my Mom took me, with a ton of bloody towels, to the ER.

Somehow, I didn’t need stitches. I just had a lot of little mini-cuts that needed bandaids.

 

Poor naive Sophie.

 

Inky-

I am sorry you've dealt with all of that- it sounds dreadful. That is this dad's nightmare, anyway.

I worked with a woman years ago who was bitten by a particularly nasty spider and nearly lost her leg.

 

I got my first scar on Christmas morning when I was six years old.
We would always spend the day playing hockey at the outdoor rink down the street and would tie our skates at home and literally skate down the street.
On this day, which would have been Dec. 25, 1970, I was told by one of my older brothers' friends not to skate behind the net without looking first. I didn't listen and took a slapshot in the forehead. The blood gushed like crazy.
My brother's friend carried me home up the same street and handed me to my father. He was scared shitless but my parents handled it well.
Up to the hospital we went.
I have another hockey scar story but that's probably enough.

 

When I was 11, I cut my leg open when I was taking out the trash. There was a broken glass in the trash bag and I somehow scraped it across my shin. My dad was trying to bandage it and he passed out. My friend and I just stood there looking at each other, like, what do we do now? She finished bandaging it, I took the trash the rest of the way outside and we resumed activity.

My mom got home from work a couple of hours later and took me to urgent care, and eight stitches later I had something to make fun of my dad about for the rest of his life.

 

No.
you bastards.