I didn't even mention the times I've been stitched up.
I used to build model rockets. I was working on one, and the plastic engine nozzle had this extraneous part. I was cutting it off with an Xacto knife and as I was nearing the end, I just got this feeling that as soon as I got through it, it would just fly into my hand. Sure enough, that's exactly what happened. I immediately grabbed my hand and told my friend who was there that I had to go to the hospital. Then I looked down for the first time. Blood was pouring onto the floor. I ran to the bathroom and washed it under the faucet. It was nasty. Luckily, I gut it right in one of the creases on the palm side of my thumb, in the last joint. But I could see blood vessels and ligaments and shit. Gross.
My second set of stitches came in college. I was taking this class called basic ice skating. I know it sounds stupid, but you had to take a phys ed class there, and it counted. It was actually a pretty popular class, and I also wanted to improve my skating so I could play on the fraternity's ice hockey team. Well, you had these certain moves and stops you had to learn, and then you also had like four other moves and you had to learn one of them. I never practices any of the four. On final exam day, I decided I was going to do the hockey stop. So during the warm-up period, I practised my other moves and then decided to try the hockey stop. Well, my skates didn't really slide across the ice at all - they dug right in. I landed on my chin. It hurt like a bitch, but I kept skating. I had a beard-thing at the time, so no one noticed and said anything. After a minute or so, I touched it with my hand for a second. I looked down and my hand was covered in blood. So I skated off the ice and asked the girl at the front desk for a paper towel. I completely soaked about 10 in just a few minutes, so I went to the bathroom. There was a huge laceration. I had basically torn my chin wide open - I could see the bone. Pretty gross. The scar from this one is finally becoming hard to see.
The last time I had stitches was probably my worst injury ever. I was fucking around with my boss at the ice company. At the time I was probably 5' 9" 150 lbs. He was about 5' 11" 240 lbs. We got into a situation where he was holding me out in the warhouse from the office. A steel door with a steel frame separated us. He didn't have the door latched though; I was doing a pretty good job of keeping that from happening. I started to get some good leverage and gripped the edge of the door. At that moment, there was a sudden lack of resistence. The reason for this is that my boss was basically building up momentum for a shoulder charge to the door. The door slammed shut, and latched. But my left middle finger was still there. The tip of my finger occupied a space not much bigger than 1/8" between two pieces of steel. the tip of my finger basically looked like what I imagine a boiled or microwaved hot dog would look like if you smashed it with a hammer. I went to the hospital where they just had me soak my wound it a dish of iodine while they decided what to do. They decided on a hand surgeon, who did a great job. My whole finger was saved because, though broken, the bone was not pulverized to bits. He told me I'd lose the nail forever, but I didn't, though it kind of looks funny. Definate nerve damage happened, because to this day, like eight years later, I can still barely feel anything at all with that finger.
