I am so scarred

Today I have a cold. Not a nasty one, just annoying. Galumph is in the bedroom, doing a conference call with collegues in the US and UK, and I'm bored and on the computer, so it's time for the "Strange things that have occurred to me that required medical attention" post. Squeamish people, leave now!

(In chronological order)

- Tubes in my ears and nose as a child. I didn't actually realise I was also getting them in my nose until the doctor popped his head in the door and asked our ward of three very scared children who was getting what, where. Thanks, uninformative parents!

- Braces on my teeth for SIX years. Pretty much all romantic potential wiped our during those oh-so-important high school years, just because I couldn't stop sucking my thumb until the orthodontist sternly told me I had to (hey, still only in primary school then, 'kay?). Too laaaaaate, though. Although I do think Garry Gavin (yes, that was his real name) was trying to woo me by asking me to smile so he could watch the 12:15 roll on by. Jerk.

- Four rather painful operations during high school to removed my 'giant hairy pigmented nevus', otherwise known as my birthmark, which is on my right arm. These ops consisted of the surgeon cutting a hole in the centre of the birthmark, and then stretching the skin together and sewing it up. After a month in a half-cast, and a year down the track, after the skin had stretched enough, he would have another crack at it. Unfortunately, they ran out of skin, so I have the remainder of a birthmark, replete with angry pink scar. Cool fact: If I hold my arm at a certain angle, you can see the concave mark where I used to have skin and bone and fat. Yes, it is rather gross.

- Sliced the top of my thumb off on a meat slicer whilst at work in a supermarket deli in year 11. Panicked, grabbed the thumb (still with stinky plastic glove on hand) and raced to the back of the fruit 'n' veg section to see my friend Van, who took me out the back to our boss. By this time I was getting a bit lightheaded, and couldn't listen to their simple instructions of "Let go of the thumb so that we can take a look". Ahem. Ended up passing out, and having a fit, and whilst fitting managed to do a fantastic right hook, connecting with my lovely boss's face. Poor thing had to throw her shirt away, being so besplattered as it was with my blood (Did you know that the thumb has more nerve endings in it than all the other digits put together, resulting in one helluva blood spurt when the top is sliced off). And when I finally got to the hospital, and the doctor asked me where the top of my thumb was, so he could sew it back on, I could only shrug and inform him that it was still at work, nestled amongst the salami on the meat slicer. Thankfully the thumb nail grew back over the scar, so it pretty much looks normal.

- Tried to donate blood in first year uni at the Blood Bank. Fitted again, only this time I woke up to four nurses around me: One holding down my legs (apparently their flailing around was beginning to disturb the other donors), one holding down my arms (ditto), one simultaneously fanning me and holding a wet cloth to my forehead (hee hee, when I came to I thought for a split second I was underwater, as she'd managed to dribble the water into my eyes), and one ripping the needle from my arm. That bit kinda hurt. A few weeks later I received a letter from the Blood Bank saying "Thanks for trying, but don't ever come back again!"

- Cut two knuckles on my right hand on another meat slicer, this time second year uni. Once again passed out, and was only saved from a bad concussion by my boss who caught me as I swooned (it might have been romantic except that a - he was married; b - he had this comb-over thing going on at the front of his head even though he wasn't bald, and kept it in place with hair spray so that it never moved; and c - he was gross!). Although, sweetly, he kicked the bin off the milk crate so that I could sit on it.

- Gave birth. Ewww, enough of that story. Now come on - I wanna hear some of yours!