My refrigerator boxing match...
It was the first time I'd tried to quit smoking, so I was already pissy as hell.
It was a freezer top, fridge bottom set up. I had gotten ice out of the freezer to fix a glass of sweet tea, and bent over getting sammich fixins from the fridge. I didn't push the freezer door shut all the way, so when I stood up, it was slightly open and I smacked my head.
I saw stars pretty good. A bunch of funny weird colors floating around. I just reacted. I hauled back and threw a punch that would make chuck Liddell cry uncle.
It left a dent deep enough you could eat cereal out of, rocked the refrigerator into the wall hard enough to bust a crack in the wall as a perfect outline of the refrigerator, and broke all my metacarpals in my right hand, essentially folding my hand in half so that the third knuckles (the ones where your fingers meet your palm) could fold down and touch the heel of my hand.
Here's a palm reading chart of some sort. It seems to be in regards to sex and sports. My hand was folded along the redskins line.
Now, I've always had trouble with my left knee, and just a few days before this happened I stepped down off a ladder carelessly and twisted it pretty good. It felt like it was about the size of a basketball.
I drove my stick shift Honda civic through 45 minutes of bumper to bumper traffic in Raleigh to get to the hospital.
No health insurance. I paid outta pocket for a splint, and went straight to work. Did not pass Walgreen's, did not collect 20 vicoden.
That splint lasted about three days before I took it off for interfering with my job.