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Subject: Story Time: Scars! rss

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King of All Simians — Not a Mere Diplomat
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When I was in grade school, I was carrying a couple of popsicles out to the porch for a friend and I to enjoy, and since my hands were full, I attempted to open the screen door with my mouth. It was a handle that looked kind of like this:


Well, I slipped as I was trying to open the door, and the handle poked through my cheek, hooking me like a fish! I didn't know what happened, at first, I just knew that my head seemed to be stuck to the door, somehow. My friend ran over and helped pull my head off of the door, and then the pain set in and I started to panic!

The worst part was that I had to call my step-mother at work to come take me to the doctor, and she yelled at me for not speaking clearly into the phone!


The scar is pretty noticeable on the outside, and on the inside of my mouth it sticks out; I bite it when I'm eating all the time, which really sucks!

So what're your scar stories?
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Matthew M
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Holmes! wrote:
So what're your scar stories?


Once I was a handle on a screen door that looked kind of like this.




Well, this kid tried to open me with his mouth, of all the hare-brained ideas, and wouldn't you know it...he slipped. I panicked and in my attempt to escape I went right through his cheek, hooking him like a fish. I didn't know what happened at first, I just know that I seemed to be stuck to his head somehow. His friend ran over and pulled him off.

I assume he's fine now, but I'm left with psychological scars for life.

-MMM
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Chief Slovenly
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Holmes! wrote:
When I was in grade school, I was carrying a couple of popsicles out to the porch for a friend and I to enjoy, and since my hands were full, I attempted to open the screen door with my mouth. It was a handle that looked kind of like this:


Well, I slipped as I was trying to open the door, and the handle poked through my cheek, hooking me like a fish! I didn't know what happened, at first, I just knew that my head seemed to be stuck to the door, somehow. My friend ran over and helped pull my head off of the door, and then the pain set in and I started to panic!

The worst part was that I had to call my step-mother at work to come take me to the doctor, and she yelled at me for not speaking clearly into the phone!


The scar is pretty noticeable on the outside, and on the inside of my mouth it sticks out; I bite it when I'm eating all the time, which really sucks!

So what're your scar stories?


Nice Costello specs, dude! (Sorry. Not punk enough. Shit.)
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Erik D
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When I was in the second grade, my friend and I found some pieces of a broken chair and pretended we were olympic javeline throwers. I failed to see a nail sticking out of one end. It ended up completely opening the part of my hand between my thumb and index finger. I could see bone.

I ran in screaming, trailing blood everywhere. My mother was on the phone with her friend and said "you're conscious, it can't be that bad". I had to wait another five minutes before she got off the phone and drive me to the hospital!

Remarkably, it was only 6 stitches. There's still a nice jagged white line on my hand complete with little dots on each side where the stiches went through.
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Justin Morse
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My grandparent's own blueberry fields.
Blueberries are typically harvested with a blueberry rake:






When I was six I was running through the field, toward my Grandfather who was out walking the perimeter of the field. Some moron left their rake in the middle of the field, balanced on it's back, so that the tines were pointed straight up in the air. How I didn't see it, I'll never know, but I fell on it, and the damn thing went all the way through the meat of my right calf and into my thigh. In retrospect, I'm very lucky I landed on it the way I did - it could have been much worse.

You can't even see the scar on my thigh or on the back of my calf any more, but there's a slight scar visible on the front of my leg.
Sorry I don't have a picture of the scar!
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King of All Simians — Not a Mere Diplomat
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erak wrote:
When I was in the second grade, my friend and I found some pieces of a broken chair and pretended we were olympic javeline throwers. I failed to see a nail sticking out of one end. It ended up completely opening the part of my hand between my thumb and index finger. I could see bone.

Now THAT'S what I wanna hear about!

bbenston wrote:
Nice Costello specs, dude! (Sorry. Not punk enough. Shit.)

Whether he's punk or not, he's one of my heroes, and these glasses are, indeed, inspired by him. Sunglasses frames for Rx lenses is go!

Quixote171 wrote:
My grandparent's own blueberry fields.
Blueberries are typically harvested with a blueberry rake:

Good grief! As soon as I saw the pic of that monstrosity, I cringed!
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Gregory Amstutz
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When I was about 9, I was bit in the face by a German Shepherd.
I was at my first swimming lesson. I was warned not to get too close to the dog's face, but being a stupid kid and dog lover, I didn't listen. The dog decided that my face got too close to his, and angry
Results:
4 stitches just below my right eye, 3 just below my nose, one on my right forehead.

Total: 8 stitches

Scars faded, but still visible.

Actually, the most remarkable thing about the whole incident is that my parents never tried to sue the swim teacher. They just looked at me, and said "they warned you."

God bless my parents.
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Quinn Munnerlyn
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I've got a couple sets of scars.. Actually lots, but only a 3 of note.

First the scars that are (mostly) hidden by my beard. I have a small red patch of scar tissue on the bottom of my chin, and one on top of my chin. We lived in a fairly rural part of East Texas and we burned most of our trash. Dad was out disposing of the latest haul on the burn pile one day and I went out with him. I can't recall why but he went back inside for something. While he was gone a WD-40 can that was in the trash exploded, flew into the air and landed right on my head, spilling flaming WD-40 onto my face.

I can still remember the flames, and as I spin around hollering my Dad running around the fence to get to me, and the neighbor running from her house to me.

I had a scar running from one cheek to the other for a long time but it finally all healed to the two comparably minor scars I still have today.

I have another set of scars on my left leg. A trail of 3 roughly circular patches going down the inside of my calf.

All my life I've lived near or on farms or ranches of one kind or another. One day, at my Aunt's Paso Fino horse ranch I was getting hay for the horses from the loft. I failed to correctly guage the distance to the edge of the loft and found myself on the floor of the barn. I must have caught a nail or something on the way down because when I lifted my pants leg to see why I had a pain there 3 neat plugs of flesh were hanging out. "That doesn't look good" I said to myself, and inserted the plugs back in... I don't think I ever told my parents or aunt about the accident.

The third major scar is a simple story. I broke my leg and they put a pin in to keep it together so I've still got the scars from the pin on either side of my left leg. I don't like these scars touched. It sends a squiggly feeling up my back.
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Matthew Kloth
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When I was 10ish I was playing football in the house during Thanksgiving day. I dove for the nerf football and made a toe toucher of a touchdown. Oh, and I bumped my head a bit.

I stood up and my cousins face went white. Then a steady stream of blood ran past my left eye. I looked over at the solid square endtable and it had a nice splatter mark on the corner.

Then chaos ensued for the remainder of the day. I got some stitches. Everyone had something to talk about for the rest of the day.

I never felt it. I still have a faint scar that divides my left eyebrow. It's the only bone I've ever broken (I chipped off a piece of my skull).
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Once upon a time, I grew up on farm, yielding many scars (Farms are not the safest places in the world):


1. I was 5, playing in the hay mow (which I shouldn't have been). I slipped and fell and my face struck the end of a 2x4. Several stitches for that on right side of face, just below the right eye.
cry

2. Was about 7. It was night and a cow was having difficult birthing (breach birth). The veterinary came to the farm to help deliver the calf.

There were many adults around, so I wanted to get someplace where I can see better and be comfortable. I thought the hood of the vet's truck would be nice.

I went to climb up using the radiator grill. The grill was actually rather sharp. Cut all 10 fingers. Had to have stitches. However, base of left index finger is the only place where I have permanent and very noticeable scarring.
cry

3. Not a scar, but permanent injury type thing. 4th grade summer. I was playing on bicycle. My little cousin wanted me to let him ride with me. I let him.

It was a nice little hill. Happened to have some gravel on it too. So going down the hill, the bike hit some gravel and the front tire stopped. Inertia of course meant the rest of the bike kept moving as did my cousin and I. We both flew over the handle bars. Somehow, my cousin ended up in front of me (he had been behind me). The top layer of skin was removed from the tops of both of my arms and the bottom of my cousins arms.

The permanent damage was to one of my front (adult teeth). I now have a filling there.
cry

4. Another non-scar but remaining visible thing.

8th grade social studies class. A bully decides to pick on me by taking hold of my desk and moving it around with me in it. I politely asked him to stop, which of course he didn't.

I finally got up and I hit him a couple of times, then took his arm and twisted it behind his back and thrust him to the floor and told him to stop bother me. (Bullies in school never got into their head that I had to work on a farm and was far stronger than I appeared. shake )

Later that day, while riding bus to go to piano practice, I realized that the left middle finger was hurting. Somehow a piece of pencil lead had gotten stuck into my finger. Wasn't able to get it out and it's still their after 27 1/2 years. ninja


5. Adult years. My grandmother decided it would be a good idea to replace siding. She decided we would do the work (My brother and I). She bought some metal siding material for the job.

She used a tractor with a scoop to lift my brother and me to get to places unreachable otherwise. At one place she had lifted us up and I was just getting up, holding the metal siding when she figured we weren't high enough and she moved the scoop a little. The siding slipped along my left hand, cutting it. Have about a 1/2 inch scar at base of left ring finger. angry


6. Last year, during some emotional difficulty - have a couple of scars on left wrist, about 3inches long each. Finally starting to fade somewhat.soblue


My left hand really has taken quite a beating over the years. But fortunately, I'm right handed.

Cousins have also had lots happen to them, but that's a story for another day.
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Chief Slovenly
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1. My face: I can't remember which, but it was either our German Shepherd/Queensland heeler mix at the time, that I was play-fighting with, or my younger sister by 2 years, who I was real-fighting with. (Her fingernails, or Cass' claws.) I must've been about 7 or 8.

My scar here is cooler-looking than Holmes!

2. Occasional faint dots of scars along both arms: more play-fighting with the family dog.

3. My left heel: I was swimming in the neighbor kid's pool. The steps in the deep end of the pool had a large crack in the pool lining, which wouldn't have been an issue, only I was standing on the steps and grabbing the railing in the reverse direction, to jump in the pool. I jumped and immediately put a large pumping gash in my heel.

I then trailed bloody limping footprints all the way home, where my mom freaked out and propped up my foot and iced it, getting me a hospital visit which resulted in stitches.

4. My left big toenail: I was in our jacuzzi (yeah, it was the 80s in CA, when I was ~13 or so). I was very hung up on a particular girl in school, hoping for a call from her. The phone did ring, and when my mom yelled out to me in the yard to come get a call, I leapt out of the jacuzzi.

My right foot cleared the edge; my left foot didn't.

My big toenail split in half right then and there; lots of blood again.

It never grew in right after that, and until recently it was always "my funky nail", where it was this freak toenail that'd be twice the normal thickness and a sickly jaundiced color. My dad has a similar fingernail from when he was a AAA catcher, where fastballs'd hit him on the fingers.

Very recently, I had it looked at again (i.e. "what the hell -- maybe they can finally do something about this"), during a procedure where the nail was removed temporarily to see if it grows back right. I'll always remember the doc's admonition: "you can scream, and you can curse, but whatever you do, you can't kick me." As I'm gaining a reputation around here for being somewhat of a potty-mouth, you can imagine the colorful and inventive swearing that ensued as the anaesthesia needle went through my toe.

Anyway, the nail looks better than it did, but still a bit f'ed up. I may consider the option of having it removed permanently.

This may be the dorkiest/most pathetic thing out of my life history.

4. Left knee: cyst removal in HS. Under local anesthesia as the doc took out this thing that looked like cooked bacon. I still have a large knot in the left knee otherwise.

5. Nearly invisible diagonal scar along the top of my left hand: I was a burger jockey wage slave at the Empire of the Clown in high school, and managed to close the top of the bun toaster completely down on my hand during a lunch rush.

EDIT:

Upon further review, my facial scar is NOT, repeat, NOT cooler-looking than Holmes!. In fact, it's not even terribly visible. You may go about your business.
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Shellie Rose
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Big purple scar on my left knee. I was riding double on a bike down a hill, with Tony Reddington on my handlebars. We hit a pothole and we both went flying tail over teacups. I guess Tony only suffered minor injuries, as he went running home, leaving me unconscious in the middle of the street. I finally came to, stumbled a couple of houses up the block and then fainted, bleeding all over someone's front walk. Scared the bejezus out of the lady whose house it was, when she came out to get the mail. Tony got into all kinds of trouble for failing to tell anyone that he had left me for dead in the street.
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One day my wife decided she wanted a rat. A suitable rat was obtained. We named her Snout, and she was cool.

Thing is, Snout was smart. Waaay too smart. She managed to escape her cage no matter what we did to try to keep her prisoner, so she was smarter than we were. When we were awake she would stand against the wall of her cage, her ratty little hands gripped around the bars, ratty nose poking out, and would regard us with complete contempt. At night she would break out and go on chewing sprees that were insane in their focused destruction. After several months with Snout, I felt really guilty that we were keeping her cooped up, but she clearly could not be free range in our spacious Boston digs.

One day just before work I noticed that Snout was on the loose again. I scooped her up with a bit more vigor than usual, and she chomped the shit out of the knuckle of my right thumb. She clearly nailed a nerve, because I was completely anesthetic for about six months on one half of the nail side of my thumb. Even now, years later, stroking the scar makes my thumb feel vaguely sizzly.

We decided we'd had enough, and we let Snout go in the Fenway Community Gardens. Trust me, that rat was probably the cleanest thing in those gardens. Walk back into those fens at night- I dare ya.
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I have a knot of keloid tissue on my the side of the second joint of my right index finger where I fell off my bike and slid across the asphalt, scraping a good bit of skin off in the process. No stitches were necessary.

I have another knot just below the kneecap on my right leg where I tried to go down a newly-paved "Thrill Hill" on my bike, and wound up crashing into a pile of freshly-pruned branches at the bottom. A branch nearly went under my kneecap. Again, I didn't need any stitches.

I used to have a scar near my elbow, like one of those big vaccination scars you see on folks about 40 or older. I fell off my bike and slid across the pavement.

Sensing a pattern yet?

Regarding scars not involving my bicycle, I have a half-moon scar on the inside of my right wrist where a cat who DID NOT want to be picked up dug her claws in to me. You can't see it now, thanks to my Hobbit-hairy wrists.

I have a thick scar on the back of my neck on the right side where I had a cyst removed. The doctor didn't get all of it the first time, so it came back, and I've had it removed twice. I popped one of those stitches when I turned my head too far, so it's a bit of a mess back there.

I also have a scar just at my hairline on my right forehead, where I had a mole removed. That required three stitches.
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Most of my scars have cleared up in my old age. A pencil to the palm, a knife slip to the knuckle on the beach (sand in the wound didn't help) and a head on skiing collision with a conifer that was thankfully very bushy (slight facial scars are preferable to brain injury) are some examples.

The one that hasn't cleared up was from an appendectomy that I got when I was ten. The story has the standard trauma (my appendix came close to rupturing) but is essentially uninteresting except that apropos of this website I remember a friend bringing a board game to the hospital to play with me during my recovery: This Game is Bonkers!. I remember thoroughly enjoying the game, especially the art! And I have never played it again.
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Heather Tungland
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When I was 5 or 6 I was playing hide and seek with some of the other kids from the neighborhood. When it was my turn to hide I had the brilliant idea to hide under a neighbors porch. (which was enclosed with lattice fence stuff) I was under there for what seemed like forever and when no one found me I decided to go looking or them. Well, when I was wiggling my way back out from under the porch a loose piece of lattice fell on my back leaving a row of 6 or 7 puncture marks from where the nails went into my back. I think that the scars have healed over the years but that's the most exciting scar story I have.
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Mine are straightforward:

- Tripped when running outside, fell against the stairs up to the porch. Cut above my eye, now there is a scar going through my eyebrow.
- The bicycle accident, told in another thread, left a scar on my chin and another on my lower lip.
- Stepped on glass when barefoot (broken window in the high school gym), thought it was just sand and tried rubbing it off on my other foot. Oops! Cut my foot wide open on top, I could see the bones moving around inside! It healed well but left a scar.

Nothing huge, but they are there.
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Matthew M
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So this isn't my story, but one of my closest friends has what looks like a blue smudge about the size of a dime on the tip of his index finger. He was trying to clean off the tip of a paint sprayer when it discharged into his finger. The stain is permanent.

-MMM
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When I was a awkward teenager, my parents thought it would be a good idea to take me and my sister to home depot. So we are walking through the aisles and I am in awe of all the sparkly shineys. I didn't have much of an attention span back in the day. So I am walking. And walking. And then, there is blood running down my leg. A lot of it. I had walked into/past some metal siding/corners. And opened a nice gash on the side of my calf. My right calf. The scar is about 3-4 inches long at this point, and close to a cm tall. The people at the store panicked. Got bandages, offered to call an ambulance, get me stitched,etc. Since their stuff was sticking dangerously out into the aisle for me to run into. As I did.

My dad just shrugged and said I didn't need stitches. It would heal. Never had a doctor look at it. But I will say my right knee and I do not always get along. And the cut is at the top of the calf, about 4 inches down from the joint.


I could talk about how my eyebrow was split open and I got stitches when my bedroom door was slammed into my face during a game of postman or something with the family friends. (Yes once, I use to roughhouse. Not anymore. Too dangerous).

And then there is the I fell off my grandmothers porch into her rose bush and nearly took my eye out. Have a scar through my eyelid and into the eye. Much deeper and my left eye would be blind. Or so sayeth the eye doctors who look into my eyes and ask me what happened.

I think those are the major scars. I have quite a few. Cause I was a klutz. But those are the ones that stand out.
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Antigonus Monophthalmus
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I stabbed myself in the webbing between my thumb and my index finger with a pocket knife (left hand).

That is not a place conducive to healing. It's not even a scar, it's just a hard mass of mangled flesh 4 years later.

My family has a proud, proud tradition of getting their hands caught in cleats on a boat, getting fingers cut off, getting stabbed in a hand, and other such horrific things. Being a musician let's just say I take incredible care not to do anything remotely dangerous.
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BagpipeDan wrote:

My family has a proud, proud tradition of getting their hands caught in cleats on a boat, getting fingers cut off, getting stabbed in a hand, and other such horrific things. Being a musician let's just say I take incredible care not to do anything remotely dangerous.


So going outside is a no go? No wait.... thats just me.
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Ferdinando Woicickoski
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Only one scar of notice, and it isn't even a good story. It's juas an appendectomy scar. But mine is vertical, below the navel, around 5 inches long and half an inch wide.

Edit: you learn a new word every day.
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Octavian wrote:
So this isn't my story, but one of my closest friends has what looks like a blue smudge about the size of a dime on the tip of his index finger. He was trying to clean off the tip of a paint sprayer when it discharged into his finger. The stain is permanent.

-MMM


A Do-It-Yourself tattoo job. Very nice.
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Antigonus Monophthalmus
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Toggy wrote:
BagpipeDan wrote:

My family has a proud, proud tradition of getting their hands caught in cleats on a boat, getting fingers cut off, getting stabbed in a hand, and other such horrific things. Being a musician let's just say I take incredible care not to do anything remotely dangerous.


So going outside is a no go? No wait.... thats just me.


I've knocked the wind out of myself by walking into a door handle. I trip going up stairs at least once a month, on a good month. Trust me, I am fair game for a klutz-off

During physics labs the general rule is that if anything remotely dangerous/fragile is being used, Dan is not allowed with 5 feet of the person handling the substance/thing.
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Chief Slovenly
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BagpipeDan wrote:
Toggy wrote:
BagpipeDan wrote:

My family has a proud, proud tradition of getting their hands caught in cleats on a boat, getting fingers cut off, getting stabbed in a hand, and other such horrific things. Being a musician let's just say I take incredible care not to do anything remotely dangerous.


So going outside is a no go? No wait.... thats just me.


I've knocked the wind out of myself by walking into a door handle. I trip going up stairs at least once a month, on a good month. Trust me, I am fair game for a klutz-off

During physics labs the general rule is that if anything remotely dangerous/fragile is being used, Dan is not allowed with 5 feet of the person handling the substance/thing.


Yay! Give the fissile material to Dan! Give it to Dan! He'll touch anything!
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