Your Drunken Injuries

[alan nagsworth]

In a sharp contrast to my sober everyday lifestyle (which is strictly routined, filled with worry and anxiety, and very considered), when I've had a drink, I become very uninhibited and without shame or caution. I do stupid things and I don't consider my physical or mental health at all. As such, with the exception of the time a Ford Mondeo ran over my arm, all of the other major damages sustained on my body are those of pissed-up calamity.

I've got a couple of nasty ones: On my left shin there's a scar about six inches long from when I fell over in my friend's living room, smashing my leg into the corner of her coffee table. Wearing jeans too tight (yeah, that's right) to inspect the area on the night, I went about my business with my trousers unwittingly gluing themselves to my shin as the blood dried. There was a fair bit of blood, as well. That one really hurt.

A couple of months back in my garden, I fell out of a hammock I had tried to coolly and casually slump into, and god knows what I landed on but I'd torn a two inch gash into the top side of my forearm. It was about a centimetre wide and just as deep. Seeing the horror on the faces of my friends, I reassured them that all it needed was a little sunscreen, and rubbed a handful of the stuff into it. The pain finally kicked in, and the damage started to (literally) sink in as I gazed upon the ooze of blood and lotion congealing down my wrist. It's a fucking ugly scar, right there on display to the world. It looks like the mouth of the Paul Frank monkey. Google it.

My most ridiculous, however, happened a week ago today. Fresh back in the country after a very relaxing break in Stockholm and the Åland Islands with my partner, I went to the pub with my housemates. Inebriated and on the way home to sing a couple hours of karaoke ballads with the robot voice modulator on, I spotted three fridge freezers outside someone's house, each in increasing height next to one another. I announced that I could leap on the smallest one and run to the top like a set of stairs.

Now, let me say that my ascent wasn't even accomplished enough to justify the accident that followed. I soft of stumbled and had to scramble on to the first one. It looked shoddy, I wasn't satisfied, so I did a stylish jump back to the floor to try and tie the whole thing off as a half-success. Landed right on my heel, fucking fractured the cunt. I'm now in a cast and on crutches for two weeks. Absolutely shagged my life for at least half a month. A few gigs and a wedding to attend like this. Can't work, can't go shopping, can't even go for a piss without the ordeal of having to crutch my goddamn way up the stairs.

CRUTCHES AREN'T FUN.

They're fucking killing my hand muscles and the abdominal strain of it gives me shitty stomach cramps. All my strength is in my toned, piston-like legs, on account of me walking like eight miles a day or something, but I have no upper body strength at all. The ten minute walk to the tube station is exhausting, agonising and hey, I'm not gonna lie, it's demeaning as well. Someone offered me a seat on the train this morning, and I thought, "no one on this smelly planet would budge a fucking inch out of their chair if they knew this happened to me because I jumped off a fridge."

Still took the seat, though. And we still did karaoke that night. I hobbled my way gloriously through "I Know It's Over" and went to bed around 3am. Killed it.

[Sebastian Cobb]

One Halloween I was smashed and some dickhead barged through me and my mate to punch someone. I slipped off the kerb on the way down and bust my ankle.

I was about 2 months in at my first proper job so had to spend 6 weeks getting taxis to work. And due to the fact you can't carry cups with crutches i was permanently dehydrated.

Oh and I forgot my shoe when I went to get the cast cut off.

[gmoney]

I was left remarkably unscathed during my drinking career. I fell off of a 3 foot wall on the way home from a party once, and in my piss up state I didn't react to it until I'd already fallen, so I ended up smacking my chin on a concrete pavement. I didn't really think much of it until the morning when my girlfriend at the time wanted to know why my pillow had blood all over it.

[Avril Lavigne]

I've probably told this story here before but whatevs, here it is again (I'll try to make it short). When I was hosting a party at my house around age 15 I had learned earlier in the day that you can open the cap of a beer bottle on a brick wall. Later when the party was in full flow, someone wanted to open their drink but couldn't find the bottle opener so I offered to show them my drink-opening trick and promptly sliced my index finger in two by smashing the bottle on the side of my house. Once the bleeding started to subside, I sellotaped my finger up and several weeks later it had naturally stitched itself back together, except on either side of the scar down the middle there were two idential copies of my fingerprint.

[Lord Mandrake]

Benalmadena, mid nineties. Full of rum and cum and dressed to the nines in a crisp white guayabera and sand chinos. DJ puts on 'plastic dreams' and I fucking lose it.

Dancing with a pint like a total fucking clown, all eyes on me.
Went down hard, glass, tendons, blood and teeth on the dance floor. Later  I come around in a wheelchair, no frontys, so much sangre, looked like i'd butchered a family of wolverines.

[bgmnts]

I have never outright hurt myself proper, if you discount the permanent aches and pains. I am a lucky drunk I guess.

[dallasman]

Walking home from a drunken but disappointing night out with a friend, the conversation turned to excercise, and I reminded him how I always was a fast sprinter. I ran the 60 metres in 8 seconds, and once escaped a policeman on foot, I reminded him. His memory needed further jogging, so I decided on a demonstration, offering to race him along the snowy pavement. Without waiting for him to formally accept, I dashed along, and honestly, I amazed even myself with how fast I was suddenly going. It felt like I was jet powered and flying past kebab-munching stragglers, with my friend a full field behind me in seconds. I sped along for about two blocks until momentum and gravity conspired against my knees, and I fell over. My hands broke the fall, saving my literal face from serious damage, but otherwise, it was very much a full body impact on the sleet-painted asphalt. Needless to say, the sleet and snow did little to dampen it, but in my drunken state, I underestimated the damage inflicted on my out-of-shape, thirtysomething body. When my friend caught up, we went for a pizza, and then I went home for a goodnight joint. I somehow fell asleep, but when I woke up, it was clear that my hand and upper body had taken a pretty bad blow from the previous night's tremendous legspeeding incident. The next night I basically couldn't sleep from aching, and after a couple of days with little improvement, I went for an x-ray. I was told that as long as I could move around without constant vomiting and screaming in pain, nothing was broken and I would be fine. And eventually, I was.

That's probably the worst I've been hurt from drinking, and I'm stumped for any really good injuries I've witnessed. My friend from high school once set fire to his hand after pouring 96% alcohol on it, and that was an intense few seconds and days of regret for him. A few people have gotten involuntary face tattoos and bad new haircuts, but my partying days were sadly short on mayhem. The worst property damage I ever inflicted was on my 19th birthday, when my band had played a (for us) prestigous gig, the drinks were free, I'd drunkenly and unsuccessfully tried to chat up the lighting girl and it was all pretty much a Legendary Night Out. Stumbling ultra-shitfaced home to my Dad's apartment building, I dreaded the four flights of stairs more than ever before (not that I usually had that big a problem with them). Spotting my infant half-sister's pram, I decided I could just sleep there. There was a blanket and everything. So I removed my jeans and jacket and climbed into the pram, draping them over me to make up for the undersized blanket. I don't know if a minute, or a few minutes, or mere seconds went by, but of course the pram collapsed, and I smashed to the concrete floor, badly scratching my thighs and back. "Oh, I guess that was a bad idea, then" was about the sum of my thoughts as I gathered my clothes and quietly climbed the stairs to finally pass out in my bunk. Where, a couple or three hours later, I was awakened by my father's girlfriend tearing off my duvet and screaming furiously at me for about three minutes straight. New prams aren't cheap, and there was no splitting the cost, no siree. I was paying for that mishap for months afterwards.

[biggytitbo]

I absolutely smashed my shin to bits on a semi mezzanine floor I had in an old flat years ago. It produced a bruise so bad it covered the whole bottom part of my leg for months. Another time I burnt my whole left arm on a fresh cup of tea i dropped on myself post piss up which was so painful I had to spend the whole night with it soaked in a bucket of cold water. More recently and quite minor, i did a similar thing with a fresh cup of tea on the knuckle of my thumb, which got pretty burnt, but due to that but of skin constantly coming into contact with stuff and also flexing the scab kept splitting producing a horrible sort of sweaty and painful mess that took ages to heal.


Obviously the worst one was the 2014 world cup, when England played Italy and it was a stupid 1am in the morning kickoff or something, by that point i'd had far too much to drink and ended up completely twatting my face and front teeth on the hard edge of the shower door (I posted pictures of the injuries on here at the time), I totally smashed one front tooth into pieces and left the other extremely weak, but was too drunk to feel the pain and went to bed, only to wake up with the entire bed covered in blood. To this day despite the repair work both front teeth feel perpetually weak and 'wrong'.

[Brundle-Fly]

Mainly massive aubergine like bruises after falling down the stairs. Twice I've done that. Stairs. The drunkard's nemesis.

And running for the night bus at 2am and doing the full Bobby Bobby BOBBY!!! Davro face kiss on the pavement in Tufnell Park.

[dallasman]

So glad I've never gotten any teeth knocked out, that sounds really traumatizing. Just the other day, someone I know went to America and, at my request, brought me back a box of Jujifruits. Aboout half a handful in, a large chunk of tooth and filling was suddenly rattling around along with the juj, though at first, I was sure it was a piece of plastic or glass. When I realized it was a bit of one of my very own cavity-ravaged lower left molars, I was gripped by sick panic for a few moments, then, when I had established that no nerves were exposed, I was angry and worried what this might cost me. I have the piece of tooth in an empty fruit bowl, but I wonder if it's good for anything? If the dentist glues it back on, won't it just fall off again? Seems like this crowd might have advice on what to do.

[Janie Jones]

Much like Brundle-Fly, broken nose running for train on Seven Sisters Road after an Electric Soft Parade gig. So that'd be turn of the century I suppose.

Smashed teeth, broken nose (again) and fractured ribs cycling 3 miles home from a party in a village near my home town. What, pay £15 for a taxi? Fuck off. I remember cars passing me slowly and people telling me to get the fuck off the road after I climbed unsteadily back on my bike to complete my journey. Got to bed, woke up 4 hours later, literally couldn't move. My whole body had seized up.

Broken arm falling over in my own back yard retrieving soda water I'd put outside to chill when the fridge was full.

There will be more. And yet I still drink. What's that all about?

[alan nagsworth]

Yeah, teeth are a real one for me too. I broke off the bottom of my two front teeth falling and hitting my face on a rock as a kid. But that's not a booze related story. What is a booze related story involving teeth, though, is about six years ago when my friend fell over in our bathroom and smashed his teeth right into the edge of the sink. There was sooo much blood. It makes me physically wince thinking about the impact of a fall like that. Wild bastard still cycled a few miles home soon after.

Hey, we were doing karaoke that night as well, as it happens. Makes ya think.

[pancreas]

May I ask the OP if he'd been conversing with Charlie on the fateful occasion, and whether that might a friendship with which it might be worth disposing?

I just burn and cut myself while cooking—all the time. The latest involved peeling my thumb.

[Dex Sawash]

If the dentist glues it back on, won't it just fall off again? Seems like this crowd might have advice on what to do.

I've had a crown cemented back in place. I imagine they would just re-do a normal filling that came out.

[Janie Jones]

Yes my smashed teeth were given 'temporary' caps that are still in situ some years later, every time I go to the dentist, she pokes than gingerly and says they seem to be holding up.

[fucking ponderous]

Very drunk quite late in the night and my then-girlfriend suggested I go to sleep. I insisted I was fine and I don't remember it happening but a half-second later I was on the ground on my back. Just fell over like that. Got up very quickly.

A few months ago a friend and I were drunk and walking home at around 3 in the morning. Again, without really realizing it, slipped on ice and got a massive gash in my forehead. I said I was fine and my friend said I wasn't and I got home and I indeed wasn't. Went to the hospital. Wish I took pictures. When you get a really nasty, interesting looking injury but you can't feel it you've got to take advantage of the situation.

[Beagle 2]

Knocked my right front tooth out sitting on a table which collapsed which was always going to collapse, you just don't notice after some cider.

Broke my leg and now have a big old steel plate in there which hurts every day. Just sort of slipped a bit on some mud. Pissed up.

All that bodily harm, so little anecdote.

[buttgammon]

So glad I've never gotten any teeth knocked out, that sounds really traumatizing. Just the other day, someone I know went to America and, at my request, brought me back a box of Jujifruits. Aboout half a handful in, a large chunk of tooth and filling was suddenly rattling around along with the juj, though at first, I was sure it was a piece of plastic or glass. When I realized it was a bit of one of my very own cavity-ravaged lower left molars, I was gripped by sick panic for a few moments, then, when I had established that no nerves were exposed, I was angry and worried what this might cost me. I have the piece of tooth in an empty fruit bowl, but I wonder if it's good for anything? If the dentist glues it back on, won't it just fall off again? Seems like this crowd might have advice on what to do.

Something similar happened to me recently and the dentist just filled the gap that was left. But saying that, the bit of broken tooth wasn't that big, and it was caused by a leaking filling that would've needed replacing anyway.

[Sebastian Cobb]

Not booze, but my old housemate had falsers because when he was 15 he was dicking about on a moped in a field and ended up knocking his teeth out on a tree stump. The whole concept of that makes me feel a bit sick.

[Misspent Boners]

In a sharp contrast to my sober everyday lifestyle (which is strictly routined, filled with worry and anxiety, and very considered), when I've had a drink, I become very uninhibited and without shame or caution. I do stupid things and I don't consider my physical or mental health at all. As such, with the exception of the time a Ford Mondeo ran over my arm, all of the other major damages sustained on my body are those of pissed-up calamity.

I've got a couple of nasty ones: On my left shin there's a scar about six inches long from when I fell over in my friend's living room, smashing my leg into the corner of her coffee table. Wearing jeans too tight (yeah, that's right) to inspect the area on the night, I went about my business with my trousers unwittingly gluing themselves to my shin as the blood dried. There was a fair bit of blood, as well. That one really hurt.

A couple of months back in my garden, I fell out of a hammock I had tried to coolly and casually slump into, and god knows what I landed on but I'd torn a two inch gash into the top side of my forearm. It was about a centimetre wide and just as deep. Seeing the horror on the faces of my friends, I reassured them that all it needed was a little sunscreen, and rubbed a handful of the stuff into it. The pain finally kicked in, and the damage started to (literally) sink in as I gazed upon the ooze of blood and lotion congealing down my wrist. It's a fucking ugly scar, right there on display to the world. It looks like the mouth of the Paul Frank monkey. Google it.

My most ridiculous, however, happened a week ago today. Fresh back in the country after a very relaxing break in Stockholm and the Åland Islands with my partner, I went to the pub with my housemates. Inebriated and on the way home to sing a couple hours of karaoke ballads with the robot voice modulator on, I spotted three fridge freezers outside someone's house, each in increasing height next to one another. I announced that I could leap on the smallest one and run to the top like a set of stairs.

Now, let me say that my ascent wasn't even accomplished enough to justify the accident that followed. I soft of stumbled and had to scramble on to the first one. It looked shoddy, I wasn't satisfied, so I did a stylish jump back to the floor to try and tie the whole thing off as a half-success. Landed right on my heel, fucking fractured the cunt. I'm now in a cast and on crutches for two weeks. Absolutely shagged my life for at least half a month. A few gigs and a wedding to attend like this. Can't work, can't go shopping, can't even go for a piss without the ordeal of having to crutch my goddamn way up the stairs.

CRUTCHES AREN'T FUN.

They're fucking killing my hand muscles and the abdominal strain of it gives me shitty stomach cramps. All my strength is in my toned, piston-like legs, on account of me walking like eight miles a day or something, but I have no upper body strength at all. The ten minute walk to the tube station is exhausting, agonising and hey, I'm not gonna lie, it's demeaning as well. Someone offered me a seat on the train this morning, and I thought, "no one on this smelly planet would budge a fucking inch out of their chair if they knew this happened to me because I jumped off a fridge."

Still took the seat, though. And we still did karaoke that night. I hobbled my way gloriously through "I Know It's Over" and went to bed around 3am. Killed it.

A fridge too far

Tried to outrun the ocean in a race; fell into some rocks, submerged and broke my ankle. The pain only really started hours later and I went to a and e

Stabbed myself in the leg, being just a tiny bit melodramatic. Stitches on the way to the police station

Punched a mirror and then badly sliced open my hand with one of the shards whilst on acid

Bought tickets to see Connan Moccasin in Glasgow even though there was no.viable way I can get there from the other side of britain atm

Fell asleep in some snow and nearly died

Puked do much I ruptured my esophagus.

Im tee total now and am finally reinforced by the indisputable fact that for me, the negative factors of not drinking are nowhere near as dangerous or difficult as the negative factors of drinking.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Zilch. Unless you count cig burns which weren't even my fault.

Cycled pissed, parkoured pissed and by rights should have actually not just been injured but died outright. Done drunk cooking. Still nothing to show for it. Fucking get me eh

[alan nagsworth]

May I ask the OP if he'd been conversing with Charlie on the fateful occasion, and whether that might a friendship with which it might be worth disposing?

Haha, nah, the fridge incident was just good old fashioned ale. The falling out of the hammock and gashing my arm was definitely fuelled by sniff, though. This was around 9am, after a rave the night before. We had been listening to mumble rap and reading a Mills & Boon book the same morning. Party sorta wore down after the arm thing, I think it brought a lot of folk back to reality. Shame really.

[Cuellar]

Cycled home from Oxford train station completely fucked after coming back from a Wales game in Cardiff. Fell off several times and cut my face up pretty bad.

Also had my thumb slammed in a front door on a birthday and the nail went black and fell off a week or so later.

[Brundle-Fly]

Fell asleep in some snow and nearly died

Blimey yes, done that. A thick snowdrift is like Lucifer's duvet when one is hammered.

[Golden E. Pump]

Declared I would do a shot of tequila for every text message I received. After twenty shots in five minutes I fell over, smashed my head on a railing and suffered a subdural haematoma. Don't remember a thing other than leaving hospital the next morning. But my mate said I refused to use hospital toilets, preferring to urinate in the sink.

[Icehaven]

Probably hundreds over the years but - almost unbelievably considering - nothing particularly serious or requiring any hospitalisation. A few which in hindsight it might have been an idea to get checked out but I never did, like falling over a small wall and totally banjaxing my knee for about 6 months afterwards (don't think it's ever been quite right since tbh) and multiple falling over and hitting head off somethings.
My personal favourite isn't even an injury as such, but I lost a contact lens (hard permanent one, not disposable) while out on the piss one night so had to wear my glasses the following day, got pissed again on the evening and they fell off my face and broke. I think someone from Specsavers was following me round spiking me.

[Sebastian Cobb]

I went for a few beers last night then went to The Stand. The guy who played Father Stone was the compare, he hecotored me quite heavily but got me a pint in the interval which was nice. Anyway after a couple of more pints I went home, getting a Mcdonalds on the way. While trying to eat and walk I fell over a bit, I've grazed my palm and chipped a tooth. I was hardly streaming, fuck's sake.

[SteveDave]

On a Saturday night in 2005 or 6, I left a club in Cardiff early to get some fresh air. It was due to close at 3 and I left at 2:50 thinking my friends would be 15 minutes tops behind me. We were getting a lift back so I went and sat on the bonnet of her car outside the museum. As the big hand swung around on the town hall clock I grew increasingly bored. When eventually two friends approached (neither the driver) I said to one "Katie, do you dare me to run over Liz's car like Marty McFly?" She said "No" so I turned to Allesandra (who didn't really speak English all that well) and said "Allesandra, say Yes" "YES!" she cried. I jumped onto the bonnet of the car and ran over the roof of the Nissan Micra. From there I leapt off (no boot on the Micra) and as my feet hit the floor, my knees didn't bend sending my full weight through my heels. I instantly fell to the ground in agony undulled by alcohol. My driver friend arrived and (for reasons unknown) we went back to her house rather than to the hospital. She then started drinking whilst I put both of my now swollen feet into a bowl of cold water. How everyone laughed when I had to crawl on my hands and knees to the toilet.

The next day I was driven to A&E and left in a wheelchair that needed someone to push it to move it by myself. I had no credit on my phone to call my parents and only 20p in my pocket. I knew if I called them from a payphone that it'd go straight to their answerphone. I think I did this and my Dad turned up later on with a change of clothes.

Eventually I was seen and was told I'd split my right heel and broken my left one, given a load of morphine and put into a bed to be seen by a doctor on Monday morning. As I drifted off into a beautiful haze I heard "Oh he's asleep". I opened my eyes and everyone who was at the house the night before was around my bed and for a split second I thought I'd died. I hadn't though.

Or had I?

I hadn't. The doctor saw me the next day and I was casted up and sent away with crutches. The welts I had on my hands lasted for ages and it took me too long to get anywhere. I really wanted a wheelchair. I still do.

[alan nagsworth]

Last December, after laboriously saving my friend from a total acid-induced nightmare at Day For Night Festival in Houston, TX, back here in the UK we took magic mushrooms with some other mates. I'd also smoked a few joints and drank about seven cans when I hit full trip, and was goofily convinced I could catch a lighter in my mouth. It hit my (already) front teeth and knocked a noticeable chunk out of one of them. Still not got that fixed.

[Icehaven]

Just remembered I woke up a few weeks ago with the most enormous and painful bruise on the inside of my upper left arm, so tender I couldn't put on anything even slightly tight on the upper arms for over a week. Also had faint but painful bruises right across the backs of both hands, as if I'd either hit something or fallen and landed on my hands. No idea what caused either but suspect it was indeed attempting to save myself when falling.