Years ago I was working construction on a house and an iron clamp (around 2 or three pounds) under tension with a chain snapped and flew towards me and hit me in the forehead hard enough it spun me ass over tea kettle off of a scaffold where I belly flopped onto concrete about 6 or 7 feet down. I woke up about ten minutes later with paramedics around me laying in a pool of blood. I was air lifted by helicopter to the city around 80 miles away.
I still have a nice 2 inch scar on my head from where it hit, but thankfully I have a nice thick skull and I didn’t get any brian dabblage :)
Once, when I was a kid (albeit old enough to know better) I was playing underneath a tall warehouse-style shelf. I could just stand up underneath it, so what do I decide to do? Jump as hard as I can, of course!
I’m not sure how I didn’t end up in hospital on that one.
As a child, running as fast as I could, I didn’t see some sort of horizontal metal bar at about my forehead’s height. I bounced and fell backwards to the ground.
When I was really little, my uncle was pulling me behind a motorcycle on one of those plastic kids sleds and I rolled off face first into a pine tree.
Or maybe it was a couple years later when I got in a fight in line to go to the library and a kid grabbed the back of my head and smashed my temple onto the corner of a Formica countertop.
Or it could be when I caught the biggest guy in my Army unit jerking it and couldn’t keep my mouth shut and he did his level best to break my jaw. He must’ve had 6" and 100 lbs on me. Fortunately my head got in the way and I had to get stitches in my forehead from the punch and in the back of my head from the doorway he knocked my head into.
There were some other contenders, but those three all involved stitches and none of the others did.
A long, long time ago (before I can even remember, I was that young) I attempted to pick up something heavy, and fell into the corner of a wall (like, the outside, so it was pointy). I needed stitches, and I still have a scar.
The details I all got second hand, but I can still just barely see the scar.
When I was two or three I hit my head on the corner of a table in a post office and had a huge gash above my eyebrow. It had to be stitched and for some reason the doctor didn’t allow my mom to hold my hand. She still kicks herself for not insisting enough. I don’t remember it at all apart from the scar.