I remember during my eighth grade year when I became aware of the difference of my fingers which I thought were 'suppose to be' that way. I became very self conscious about them and not wanting anyone to see these two fingers (left first and second fingers). I remember trying to snap these fingers to get them to 'pop.' I tried and tried until the skin split and started to bleed. It hurt so bad until it began to heal. So I only 'fake snap' them with no sound. I will never know what it will sound like from these two fingers. Sigh. I grew up wondering how they became that way. I never asked my mother or my sisters and no one ever talked about them. It wasn't until my 21st birthday I received a call from my estranged father who, without my asking, told me the story of that day. My older sister was messing around with her bike having the wheels up instead of on the ground turning the pedals and me, as curious as I know I am now, stuck my fingers in the spokes. I do not remember any of this but my father spoke so proudly of me as I did not cry. My fingertips were hanging. Going through photos left by my mother I found a picture of me with a cast from hand to elbow dated 1959 so I was 3 years old. I can't let them grow even a half inch because they curl badly. They do come in useful sometimes. I had a hard time when it came to learning how to type. My picture won't upload though so that you can see them, no biggy. You can imagine it but the disfigurement is not frightening. Maybe you as an adult have a childhood injury that has stayed with you too.
Just minor things... Does gravel dust permanently embedded in a knee count? I begged and begged for a pen knife. Finally old enough to get one, and first thing I cut deep into my left forefinger. Should have had a stitch or two looking back. Afraid they would take the knife away, I managed to keep it a secret, or they pretended not to notice the bandaids. Still have the scar and a slightly bent finger. Riding bike on wet grass, wheels slipped, landed on tailbone. Couldn't move for a few minutes. Pretended I just wanted to sit in the grass and enjoy the scenery until I could get up. Took months to get back to normal. Still bothers me a little to sit a certain way on a hard surface.
My middle finger has a diagonal scar midway between the base and knuckle. I learned an very valuable lesson the moment I acquired that trophy. Never under any circumstances flip off your mother while she is peeling potatoes using an extremely sharp paring knife!
No physical scars, but one big old emotional one. It doesn't matter to me anymore, but it did affect how I lived my life and I wish it never happened. Sorry to be vague, but it's real personal.
All of mine came after childhood. I was in a bad car accident in 1969, (age 24) hit by a speeding drunk driver, went through the windshield, still have scars on my forehead and knee from that, and now and then still get a piece of glass out, even after all of these years. 1988, broken leg from being stomped by a horse. It started bucking just as I put my foot in the stirrrup, and came down so hard on my calf, that the leg popped open and was just dangling. Because of the flesh injury, they had to put on one of those metal cages instead of a cast, so the wound could be treated. My doctor said it was the worst break that he had ever seen outside of the military. It was six months before I was able to walk again, and I have the scar from the broken leg, and the little marks from where the metal pins went though above and below the break. The bones were shattered so bad that the leg had to be put back together crooked (so bad balance issues) and that leg is about 3 inches shorter than the other one. In 1990, another drunken driver going over 100 mph rear ended my little Yugo, and we both went over a steep bank, and landed with the 3/4 ton truck on top of the Yugo. I would have been smushed, but the big dog I had in the car ended up under my face and chest, and saved my life, although not his. This one didn’t actually leave any scars, but after that is when the heart problems started, so I think that being crunched with the seatbelt, and the car flipping several times, is what gave me the heart problems that I deal with now.
I was very gallantly riding my bicycle in the summer after finishing grade 7, when I skid on sand, after trying to impress the young lads who were close by. Paid for it dearly. I fractured my right arm and the bone break, although it was a hairline fracture, still hurts. (Not sure if this counts as a childhood injury)!.
I jumped off of a shed and landed on a nail that was sticking out of a board that was hidden in the grass, putting the nail all the way through my foot. My dad filled the hole with iodine and bandaged it up. However, there is no sign of that injury remaining. I remember which foot it was but cannot find a scar. I don't think I had any other serious injuries as a child. I've had a few BB's that broke the skin while we were playing war, but they healed up pretty quick.
I have a scar on my calf that I got from a sharp piece of metal sticking out of a board. It was a deep cut and was gushing blood. I figured I was going to be in BIG trouble if my mom found out, so I went over to a little wading pool that had a couple inches of water and sat down. It didn't take long for the water to turn red (a little blood goes a looong way). I got nervous and yelled for my mom, who came out, saw me sitting in what looked like a pool full of blood and screamed for my dad. Dad wrapped my leg in his shirt, took me inside, got out his trusty suture kit and sewed me up. We always had a vial of tetanus serum in the refrigerator (doesn't everyone?), so he gave me a shot (me screaming more about that than about the cut). I'm still alive.
Prompted to think back about it here, I realize I got banged up quite a bit, sometimes a bit seriously, but always recovered uneventfully. Summer I just turned five, crushed my right thumb opening a manhole cover with a neighbor kid. Mashed it, next day X-ray revealed no broken bone. Worst, and not really childhood, in eighth grade, mixing explosive powder, sustained 2nd degree burns to my face and right hand (the mixing one). That episode greatly changed my life both then and forever after. Then, just entering puberty, I was shunned by classmates due to my appearance, became recluse socially, and inseparable from my car. Gradual healing took care of the scars and appearance, but the mental duress remains to this day. It made me greatly introverted. Frank