When I was around 8, a neighborhood kid was swinging around a light pole, just a plain metal pole but it had the wirenut box attached to the side about a foot from the ground, which he was standing on while spinning.
His foot slipped, the corner of this box ripped his ankle open, cut right up from the top of the shoe about 6 inches into his lower calf/ankle.
He screamed and ran home, blood pouring everywhere. Saw him a few days later with massive stitches and bruising all over his leg. Wasn’t as bad as it looked, but fuck me it still makes me wince thinking of my ankle being sliced by a dull metal corner by weight and gravity alone.
Some junkie, high as a kite, ran into a truck. So the rescue guys were sent up to us, the xray department, straight away with a request form where basically every position was marked. Usually, we don’t see the rescue people, as their job ends at the trauma department.
This guy was so gone, he had not really registered what had happened, and tried to kick people with broken legs and fight them off with broken arms.
Both the rescue guys, one xray specialist, and I had to wear lead and hold him down, while the other specialist was changing plates and shooting pictures for a whole album.
I later learned that this guy had broken about everything one can break without dropping dead on the spot.