No one ever expects to get injured, and if they do, they just hope it’s not severe. Unforunately, that’s not the case for these folks. These people reveal the true story behind their biggest injury ever. Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
Playing Tag Gone Wrong
“When I was 12, I was playing tag with some of the kids in my neighborhood in a deep, wooded area. There was a field caked with mud right beside the forest, and our parents warned us not to go in there, because there was a lot of glass and stuff people had dropped in that general section. Obviously, us kids decided to explore it despite our parents prohibition, but we swore to eachother that we would be careful. That didn’t last very long. Somebody had the idea to continue the tag game in the field, and everybody agreed. It was going well enough until I ran into a muddy patch and slipped.
A sharp, piercing pain shot through my body, and I thought I had dislocated something. Unlike most acute pains, it wouldn’t stop. With every heartbeat, another pain would throb through me. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. The last thing I remember was being pricked by a horridly thick needle before losing consciousness.
Turns out, the fleshy part on the back of my left calf was impaled by a nail. There was a small round wound on either side of my leg. When I finally woke up, I was on the operating table, in the middle of a procedure that involved installing a metal bar in the empty space in my leg. It was painful. I screamed as loud as I could.
A doctor yelled, ‘She’s up!’ Before injecting me with another needle, and then I lost consciousness again.
I spent two days in the emergency room. The doctors told me it might be a little sore every once and a while, and I left the place in a cast and wheelchair. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. Since the nail drove through major muscles, my leg was temporarily paralyzed from the knee down.
Two months later, they took the metal bar out, and trying to walk again was the worst part of all. I was starting from ground zero, yet there was agonizing pain to go along with it. I fell on my face too many times to count. In all, it took me seven months to recover. I am still very sensitive in that region. Anything more than a tap will set my leg on fire. But I moved through it.”
“It Felt Like I Was Being Slowly Skinned Alive”
“One night, I was standing near a pile of debris that we were burning when I heard a deafening loud ‘BOOM’ and instantaneously I felt the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. Without a single thought, I began running and ripping my clothes off while rolling on the lawn. Something instinctual told me I was on fire. My brain instantly went to the instructions the firemen taught us youngsters so many years ago in elementary school – stop, drop, and roll.
I know I was screaming and the pain would not stop. I had never felt anything so horrific. The pain was so severe, I could not hear myself screaming. I ran towards my in-laws’ house which was the closest place. Under the security light at the corner of the house I ran into my husband who was coming towards my screams. Under that light, I saw smoke coming from my body. My clothes were burned off and my skin was peeled off.
With no clothes, I ran on through my in-laws’ house to their bathroom and jumped into the shower. I stood under the cold water begging for someone to kill me. I was in such horrific pain. We lived far, far in the rural ‘boondocks.’ There was a volunteer fire department just up the road but no one was ever there full-time and this was around 8:30 at night. It would take 911 at least an hour to get to us, if we were lucky.
My husband wrapped me in a towel, but the touch was just too painful. He helped me to the car so he could rush me the 20 miles to the hospital. I know he was speeding but we just couldn’t drive fast enough. The air conditioner was on full blast, all vents pointed towards me. I was sitting on the front edge of the seat in front of the vent begging my body to die or at least pass out.
I remember him honking and running red lights. I remember just feeling my body cooking. Nothing would stop the pain.
We got to the hospital. I opened the door, screaming for help. A nurse came out the automatic sliding door and looked at me. She turned and went back in but, my husband grabbed me and helped me out of the car when the woman, and several others appeared with a wheelchair covered in sheets.
I was taken into a trauma room that looked like it was also an operating room. A lot of hospital staff in scrubs surrounded me and were asking a thousand questions. I was begging them to knock me out but they didn’t. My entire body just shivering, teeth chattering and I was trying to silence my screaming.
It turns out they were pumping 40 miligram of Morphine in me as fast as possible. I remember the itching from the Morphine and then they began the Benadryl. The hospital was not equipped to handle severe burns so they were waiting for the first ambulance and even life flight to become available to transport me to the next state where the University hospital had a burn unit.
It was about two hours that I waited on that gurney in horrific pain. The hospital was doing all they could which was only attempt to control the pain. The Morphine did nothing to help. If anything, Morphine just made me itch and made my vision blurry.
A few of my in-laws came in to see me. I remember seeing my brother-in-law. The look on his face said it all, though I could tell he was trying to look ‘normal’. I felt as if they were all there to see me for the last time.
Finally, an ambulance arrived to transport me. As it turns out, the EMT was a friend of mine and she went full lights and sirens. She got me to the University Hospital Burn Center in almost no time at all.
Once there, I was admitted into the ICU. I was there for a while. Heavily medicated and bandaged from head to toe. I was in and out of consciousness. Everyone, including visitors, were gowned, gloved, and masked.
Eventually, I was moved to a private room and the heavy medications were lowered. The absolute worst thing in the world was the debriding sessions. That is where a group of wound care nurses gather around, unbandage the wounds and begin scraping and peeling the dead tissue off. It felt like I was being slowly skinned alive.
After a month or so being admitted in the hospital and then after several months of outpatient care and undergoing months of physical therapy, I survived. I had burned corneas, first, second, and third degree burns to my face, neck, both arms, hands, fingers, upper and lower legs along with both knees and ankles.
What we learned was, somehow, a full-sized, brand new can of that expandable insulation foam (for home repairs) was in the debris pile. The can exploded as the debris pile burned and the chemical insulation foam shot all over me. So, it was technically considered a chemical burn because the boiling chemical melted onto and into my skin and burned my skin layers off. During the debridement in wound care, not only were they having to scrape off the dead skin tissue but, they were also having to remove the melted chemical off and out of me.”
“I volunteered to get tased at a training session to teach police how to use tasers. Because the trainers wanted the officers to know just how much force they were using and how much pain they were inflicting when they deployed their new tasers, each officer had to take a taser bolt before they were officially certified.
I was just a reporter who was there because I was writing about the widespread adoption of tasers, but some of the officers suggested I take a shot in solidarity. I figured why the heck not? It might earn me some respect among the cops, and maybe one day one of those cops might tip me off to a story or give me information on background.
They had me stand on a mat, with one officer on either side of me to stop me from falling when the bolt connected. I remember trying to wave them off, thinking I didn’t need their help. I was wrong.
When you are tased, you lose all muscle control. You’re physically incapacitated. For the duration of the tase, all you can think about is wanting the pain to end. It is all-encompassing, a pain that envelopes the entire body as if you’re on fire from head to toe.
I lasted six or seven seconds before I tapped out, which was longer than a lot of the cops. One guy, a veteran lieutenant, took it for twelve seconds, screaming with the effort. Dude was hardcore.
Because I’m a complete idiot, I agreed to take a second shot, this time directly from the taser with no dart. The trainers said they wanted to show us how the pain transfers like an electric shot, so they had us — me and the officers — form a semi-circle and hold hands. I was at the end and got the tase on my foot. It was even worse than the first shot.
After that I fully understood why everyone is incapacitated when they’re tased.”
The Horse Was Only 250 Pounds
“I was helping to round up 14 horses to weigh them before they went into a can of Spaghetti-Os. I was standing behind an open, steel, gate, where my boss, an Amish guy who I regularly drive for, posted me. The horses were supposed to go to their right, into a corral. They wanted to go straight, through the gate and through me. I waved my arms and yelled in the best cowboy voice this city-boy from New England could muster up. They did not “’espet my athorit-tye,’ in the least.
They came at the gate the way bulls go after mattadors. Here I was without a red cape. I saw they were not afraid of me. They saw I was scared of them. I turned to run, but didn’t even get around 90 degrees. They slammed into the gate. The gate slammed into me. I slammed into the ground and rolled four times. Twice from the momentum, once from the pain, and once again to get out of the way of being trampled. I laid on the ground unable to breathe. My right leg (fibia) was broken, my right arm felt worse, was not broken, but had a bruise like I’ve never seen; the blood squished out of my skin and the bump was the size of a banana. My left shoulder hurt as bad, and both arms stayed limp until the next day.
‘I’m ok, I think,’ I said, once I could suck in my first breath. I didn’t want my boss and the cowboy to worry. They didn’t.
‘I don’t know how you are getting paid, but the damage you did to that gate is coming out of your check!’ The cowboy said, as I laid there on the icy ground, wondering how many bones were broken.
I realized if I was looking for sympathy I’d have to find it in the dictionary, because these guys weren’t giving any out.
‘Can you move?’ One of them asked. I mistook that for concern that I might be paralyzed, but they actually just wanted me to get out of the way so they could move the rest of the horses.
‘Not yet, just let me lay here a minute.’ I said as I was in that stage of pain where you get kinda sleepy and relaxed. You know you can’t stop the pain, which feels like electricity in your muscles, and scalding water on the surface of your skin.
‘Just so you know, the horse that knocked you down was only 250 pounds,’ the cowboy informed me, underestimating by 1000 pounds at least. ‘How does that make you feel?’
‘I’m glad!’ I answered, ‘he won’t be so hard to hold down while you blow him, Cowboy!’
Having a sense of humor, helps with pain and injury.
I got up after about five minutes, stood by with my head on a cold, steel, rail, and then limped to the truck, and after my boss loaded me into the vehicle, I drove myself to the ER, unable to move my shoulders, gripping the bottom of the steering wheel.”
“I was working as a 911 Police Dispatcher in a very crime ridden South Florida city. The Dispatch Center was a small room that was inside the building with no outside access and the doors were always shut for privacy issues. A new young male began working there and he wore a very strong cologne. I kept having allergic reactions to it but my supervisors told me there was nothing they could do about it.
One night, I complained yet again about being in a closed in space with this cologne making me sick and they first called him into a very small office and then I was told to go in. As soon as I went in and they closed the door, I began to get very sick and broke out in red splotches all over my face and neck because the room reeked of his cologne. I was having trouble breathing and started to feel nauseous. My supervisor told me to go outside to get some air. I laid down on a bench and got a horrible migraine and started to vomit. I was so sick I couldn’t move.
After about 20 minutes, the supervisor came to check on me and was so alarmed by my condition, she called for an ambulance. I was lifted onto a stretcher and put in the ambulance still vomiting. My blood pressure was through the roof and the EMT’s took me to the hospital and called ‘Code 3’.
I was in the ER for 12 hours. I was in so much pain I couldn’t believe that I stayed conscious. I was writhing on the bed for hours wishing I would just die to stop the pain. I swear I would’ve let someone shoot me in the head with a small caliber just to relieve the pressure in my brain.
Hours later, the IV finally rehydrated me and the IV steroids kicked in and relieved the swelling in my brain. It was the most awful pain that lasted for hours and hours. I had gone through a natural childbirth and even that pain was nothing compared to what I went through that night.”
A Wasp Sting
“Someone yelled out, ‘Watch out!’
I said, ‘Wh-‘ Then bam, I fell back on some grass.
Getting hit by a volleyball on your 12th birthday isn’t the best thing.
‘I’m so sorry! Are you ok?’ A girl, about nine years old, asked me.
‘Yeah, it’s ok. I’m fine,’ I replied.
The girl stuck out her hand and said, ‘Here.’
I grabbed her hand, and used my other hand to push myself up. Just as I was about to lift my hand, I felt a terrible sting. I fell back again, and screamed. I looked at my hand, and saw a wasp, still clinging on to my skin. You see, I’m allergic to wasps, but I didn’t know it at the time. So, you can imagine what happened next.
After endless screams, tears, and ice packets, my mom took me to a doctor. My hand was four times bigger and really red and itchy. Thousands of small bumps spread across my hand and fingers.
‘This isn’t normal. Take her to a hospital as soon as you can,’ the doctor told my mom.
Ten minutes later, I was in the emergency room. I had a high fever and I was sweating like crazy, all whilst screaming and crying about the pain. I was 12 at the time, so just imagine a screaming and sobbing 12 year old girl, holding her hand while a nurse tries examining it.
My blood pressure had dropped. My heart was beating faster and faster. My head was unbelievably dizzy. Eventually, I was given an oxygen mask, an EpiPen, and other medications that I can’t remember. Even though it happened a few years ago, it was undoubtedly the worst pain I’ve ever felt, though I’ve gotten stung a few more times (but at least I was prepared).”
“When I was 23, my best friend shot me from two feet away with a 357 Smith & Wesson Magnum. I was seated and he was standing over me. The bullet went through my left lower abdomen and hit my lower spine. My left leg jerked and then never moved again for year. It was paralyzed. I was carried to a neighbors car and put in the back seat and drove to the hospital. We didn’t have a phone at the time, so we couldn’t call 9-1-1.
The car died twice on the way there. I just wanted to pass out. Getting shot is nothing like shown in the movies. I thought I was going to die.
I was also furious at my friend. I tried to hit him before I was taken to the car.
The first thing I said was, ‘You freakin’ shot me.’
He didn’t believe it. Mostly, because he was wasted. Before he shot me, he wanted me to take him over to his ex-girlfriend’s house with his weapon, but I told him no and that’s when he shot me.
When we made it to the hospital, they dragged me out of the back seat and put me on a gurnee. Then took me into the ER and started to check me out. I was then rolled over to look for the exit wound. No exit wound. It was slammed into my spine and stayed there. How it didn’t blow out my spine I don’t know. The guy in the ER pushed on my spine and said he could feel the bullet in me.
They decided to take it out right then. They gave me a local shot, but I was awake the whole time. He put the syringe down, picked up the scalpel, and cut me open. Then he started the process of grabbing the bullet. Like I said I was awake, so felt all of this.
He finally pulled the bullet out and gave me nine stitches. Once he was done, he showed me the bullet and asked me if I wanted it.
I said, ‘Heck no.’
My family was there waiting for me, my mom was hysterical because she thought I was going to die. After hours and hours of waiting in the hallway, we found out the hospital couldn’t fix me, so I had to be transferred to another hospital about 75 milies away.
There, the doctor took one look at me and said we needed to operate now. I was bleeding internally the whole time. My stomach was pushed out from blood. The bullet hit the main artery that ran down my left leg. Thirty-five staples later, I ended up with a paralyzed left leg. After surgery, I was in so much pain that I was given morphine every two hours. Spent sevent days in the hospital and went through so much pain, it was unbelievable.
When they took my staples out, I had to remind them I had stitches in my back. This was done on my last day in the hospital.”
The Hospital Was His New Home
“When I was 20 years old, I decided to dive into a lake and ended up with my head stuck in the sandy bottom. After crawling back on to shore, I spent the next hour or so looking at the clouds trying to see if I could move my neck.
Finally, a girl was kind and wise enough to call an ambulance and have me transported to the hospital. At that time I was still optimistic that I would walk out of there by the end of the day. It took the doctors little to conclude that I had shattered three vertebrae in my neck and in fact, the hospital would be my new home for the coming months.
They then proceeded to install something resembling a crown on my head. Installing the thing into my skull. I can’t remember exactly why but the anesthetics did not work so I was lucky enough to feel the sharp point of the bolt as it pierced the thin flesh covering the bone. It then penetrated the membrane full of nerve endings and finally the bone itself.
The bolt was squeaking like it was being turned into a old piece of oak. It had to be turned tighter and tighter until the key the doctor used broke off. It felt like my head was in a vice.
All I could think was, ‘Please, let it stop! Please break off! Please…Ahhh, thank you.’
Only to realise there were three more to go.”
“As a young child, I often travelled to Spain to stay with my grandparents in their bungalow. We often went to the beach and the pool, so there were countless pool toys littered across the house.
One ‘fateful’ day, me and my sister were dancing to some music we found on a stereo we stole from our grandparents. While my sister was happy, I had decided I needed a microphone. So I quickly glanced around the room and saw an orange snorkel lying on the table. I went and retrieved it and promptly started to sing into the snorkel, in the opposite end.
Long story short, I put the snorkel in my mouth, ran in a circle, and tripped on my mum’s foot. Before I knew it, I was flying across the room with the snorkel still in my mouth. Then I impacted the hard marble floor.
The small harmless snorkel was now a sharp rod of death being forcefully shoved down my esophagus. Along the way, it ripped off my uvula and got lodged in the back of my throat.
As I lied there, making some gargling noise (it’s hard to scream when there’s a plastic rod down your throat), I watched as my dad cane running over to try and remove the snorkel.
He pulled it out (along with a chunk of flesh) and we were quickly on our way to the nearest hospital.
Now over 10 years later, I can still remember the pain. The tremendous stabbing feeeling, the tearing of the uvula, and the sting of blood trickling down my windpipe.”