About three years ago, I was at a gathering of friends and unknowns-who-walk-in-off-the-street, drunk, with other drunk people, when a friend who shall remain nameless (but shall, for the purposes of this illustration be referred to as 'William') decided it would be 'fun' to wave an (rather menacing, in the hands of a drunken twit) axe (which I can only assume came from the shed) around and shout quotations from various (moronic) films.
So, in between deciding I wanted as much distance as possible from dear 'William', and maintaining my (high) blood alcohol level via (lethal) home brew, I tripped (over what in retrospect I can only assume was a person), and William decided to swing the axe a bit too close to my left ankle.
Fortunately ? someone in attendance was vaguely sober and rational, and so I had a nice, relaxing, amusing trip the hospital, and so I didn't lose my foot (which, apparently, was hanging by some flesh when 'William' finally decided to inform others of what the axe had done). I still walk with a bit of a limp, though, and I've got this wonderful smattering of scar tissue too, which is nice. Intolerably, it kept me from my fencing for two months.
Pain - 6-7-8 ? I don't know, as I have few suitably painful life experiences with which to gauge it. Fuck numbers, in this they tell one nothing much at all. I'd imagine my state of being pickled helped with that, somewhat. It was an inconvenience to the doctors, however.
Overall, it was worth it.
![icon_drunk :drunk:](./images/smilies/icon_drunk.gif)