As a child - tried to adjust a sun bed while sitting on it and it smacked me solidly on the side of the head.
Opened the doors into my Uncle's garden just as football mad cousin launched an impressive kick - ball hit me square in the face.
As an adult - being starved for surgery in hospital, answered a phone call from my Mum at the nurses station - everything vanished down a dark tunnel and went down like a sack of potatoes. Left hospital with a stonking black eye - the surgery was moved up the list sharpish though.....
Used our kitchen step to retrieve ancient plate of mince pies from a cupboard - picked up plate, turned about three inches to put it down on the counter and back went into severe spasm - I do have an unstable sacrio-iliac joint but even so.... took weeks to recover.
Repeated the above lifting a half full laundry basket from the floor to the bed.
Best one was breaking my ankle by my foot slipping off one step at 6.00 am. Crumpled in a heap in the bend in the stairs, didn't know if I was going to vomit, cry or pass out - think I did a bit of all three. Howled for help but DP was sleeping like the dead. Eventually managed to crawl back upstairs, reach across the end of the bed and grab DPs foot to wake him. He shot up in bed and I must have looked like something out of The Ring judging by his scream. He helped me back into bed, got some frozen veg to wang on it, we decided it probably wasn't serious (had never broken a bone before) swilled down three Ibuprofen with half a glass of rose wine that was to hand and went back to sleep. Woke up later and swelling proved A&E was probably a good idea.
Got a taxi to A&E. Waited for triage. At first stage a couple of earnest medics threw up their hands in horror and lectured me soundly about the dangers of taking too much Ibuprofen when asking about pain relief. I thought better of mentioning the wine. Got put in one of those chairs with the leg extended and taken to X-ray. Ankle had to be manipulated to get the right angle. Technician had to do it twice. Ouch. Back to waiting room. Dishevelled looking man in his 60s called me from the treatment area - thought he was a porter - nope, he was the doctor. I in chair and DP and doctor all cram into an eye examination room so we can go through the X-rays and sort out if I'm having a boot or a cast. Lots of questions asked about medical history. Had I had any surgery? Well, yes, 30 ish years ago but not sure how its relevant (bit tired, cranky and in pain at this point), but I must disclose. So I mentioned two terminations back in my younger days and then the Dr asks if it is ok to say it in front of my DP - well as it happened yes, he was aware, but it could have been handled better as it was too late by that point anyway if it wasn't appropriate. Icing on cake - as DR wheels me backwards out of tiny room, a nurse stopped him to speak, and he swung my extended leg into a metal bin just outside the door. Oh, how we laughed that day.