How close to death have you been, close shaves/lucky escapes
Discussion
Mobsta said:
Fozziebear said:
I've been RPG'd twice, both landed 7 ft ish away and vehicle took most of the blast, got shot at a couple of times, one round passed close to my melon. Never had any holes in me or saw a bright light, must be lucky 
I think most of us will struggle to top having been RPG'd once, let alone twice.Except me. I was RPGd dozens of times. On the PS3
So you're a politician, a gamer or in the army, then
I'd say that was quite close
Oh and rolling a 3/4 ton trailer full of petrol in Kenya, fuel spilled everywhere dragged the Landy into a storm drain every one walked away from that one,
Whilst kite surfing I needed to pull my safety leash which didn't deflate the kite, instead it went into a death roll dragging me under water then pulling me out the water 6 feet or so, heading towards a concrete jetty, I couldn't get to my kite release for what seemed like forever. I do remember thinking "BUGGER" your f
ked palEdited by Discopotatoes on Monday 17th June 06:36
Discopotatoes said:
Mobsta said:
Fozziebear said:
I've been RPG'd twice, both landed 7 ft ish away and vehicle took most of the blast, got shot at a couple of times, one round passed close to my melon. Never had any holes in me or saw a bright light, must be lucky
I think most of us will struggle to top having been RPG'd once, let alone twice.Except me. I was RPGd dozens of times. On the PS3
So you're a politician, a gamer or in the army, then
I'd say that was quite close
Oh and rolling a 3/4 ton trailer full of petrol in Kenya, fuel spilled everywhere dragged the Landy into a storm drain every one walked away from that one,
Whilst kite surfing I needed to pull my safety leash which didn't deflate the kite, instead it went into a death roll dragging me under water then pulling me out the water 6 feet or so, heading towards a concrete jetty, I couldn't get to my kite release for what seemed like forever. I do remember thinking "BUGGER" your f
ked palEdited by Discopotatoes on Monday 17th June 06:36
Month ago me and a couple of mates fell against a stair rail, which promptly gave way dropping the three of us 30 feet to the ground. I came off worst hitting a cabinet on my side, breaking my back, and also getting a good whack to the head.
Family pretty much pronounced me dead, however some paramedics turned up pronounced me alive.
Now a month later I'm aching a bit, have some titanum supporting my back, and wearing something that makes me feel a bit like Bane.
However, should make a full recovery in a few months. The other guys landed better, and only had a checkover.
Other than that, there was also a 100% unsurvivable car crash that I walked away from 30 years ago.
Family pretty much pronounced me dead, however some paramedics turned up pronounced me alive.
Now a month later I'm aching a bit, have some titanum supporting my back, and wearing something that makes me feel a bit like Bane.
However, should make a full recovery in a few months. The other guys landed better, and only had a checkover.
Other than that, there was also a 100% unsurvivable car crash that I walked away from 30 years ago.
I've only had one. I went back to my parents one August shortly after I'd graduated, and decided to go out for a bike ride as it was a nice, sunny day. This being the early 90s, I wasn't particularly aware of the existence of bike helmets!
Some 30 minutes later, going down a steep hill, I went round a corner, and from there have fairly patchy memories of what happened next. I know I came off the bike, apparently from the front wheel washing out on some loose earth on the road and then digging back in to the tarmac. My first point of contact was between the corner of a cobblestone on a storm drain and the front of my head.
There was a guy coming down the road behind me in a red Fiat Uno who stopped to see if I was OK, and I can remember asking him if he could pick up my bike pump before someone ran over it and I'd ride back home. He told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't riding anywhere, got me to the side of the road, and then went to get someone to call an ambulance (mobile phones being somewhat in short supply back then). He came back with another chap who'd called the ambulance, then said he really had to go, as he was already late for a meeting.
Fortunately, the chap who waited with me was a first aider for the local amateur football team, so had the good sense to get my name and contact details, as the last thing I could remember him saying was "I can hear the ambulance siren", before waking up in A&E 3 hours later, having had 27 stitches on an inch-squared area of the front of my skull just behind the hairline.
I was released from hospital 3 days later, and my mother took me over to collect my bike, as the chap who waited with me had been looking after it in the meantime. It's the first (and hopefully last) time I've ever seen a fully grown man burst into tears when opening his front door.
It seems that as soon as he'd told me he could hear the ambulance, I started having convulsions, and then passed out completely. In addition to the ambulance, there were a huge number of coppers, who closed the road in both directions, and at one stage they were apparently talking about marking up where my body was for the accident investigation unit (at this stage, I was the only person who knew that the guy in the Uno hadn't hit me, and I was in no state to be telling anyone), so this poor chap was convinced he'd never see me alive again.
So, in hospital for 3 days, off work for nearly a month, and I've never been down a hill on a push bike at anything like the same speed since! Looking back - although not so much at the time - the comedy moment of the same thing was the consultant chap doing the rounds at Wexham Park hospital with a bunch of trainee doctors in tow stopping at the bottom of my bed, looking at the notes and saying "ah yes, this chap's interesting! If his skull wasn't 30% thicker than average, he'd be dead now!"
Some 30 minutes later, going down a steep hill, I went round a corner, and from there have fairly patchy memories of what happened next. I know I came off the bike, apparently from the front wheel washing out on some loose earth on the road and then digging back in to the tarmac. My first point of contact was between the corner of a cobblestone on a storm drain and the front of my head.
There was a guy coming down the road behind me in a red Fiat Uno who stopped to see if I was OK, and I can remember asking him if he could pick up my bike pump before someone ran over it and I'd ride back home. He told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't riding anywhere, got me to the side of the road, and then went to get someone to call an ambulance (mobile phones being somewhat in short supply back then). He came back with another chap who'd called the ambulance, then said he really had to go, as he was already late for a meeting.
Fortunately, the chap who waited with me was a first aider for the local amateur football team, so had the good sense to get my name and contact details, as the last thing I could remember him saying was "I can hear the ambulance siren", before waking up in A&E 3 hours later, having had 27 stitches on an inch-squared area of the front of my skull just behind the hairline.
I was released from hospital 3 days later, and my mother took me over to collect my bike, as the chap who waited with me had been looking after it in the meantime. It's the first (and hopefully last) time I've ever seen a fully grown man burst into tears when opening his front door.
It seems that as soon as he'd told me he could hear the ambulance, I started having convulsions, and then passed out completely. In addition to the ambulance, there were a huge number of coppers, who closed the road in both directions, and at one stage they were apparently talking about marking up where my body was for the accident investigation unit (at this stage, I was the only person who knew that the guy in the Uno hadn't hit me, and I was in no state to be telling anyone), so this poor chap was convinced he'd never see me alive again.
So, in hospital for 3 days, off work for nearly a month, and I've never been down a hill on a push bike at anything like the same speed since! Looking back - although not so much at the time - the comedy moment of the same thing was the consultant chap doing the rounds at Wexham Park hospital with a bunch of trainee doctors in tow stopping at the bottom of my bed, looking at the notes and saying "ah yes, this chap's interesting! If his skull wasn't 30% thicker than average, he'd be dead now!"
Kermit power said:
I've only had one. I went back to my parents one August shortly after I'd graduated, and decided to go out for a bike ride as it was a nice, sunny day. This being the early 90s, I wasn't particularly aware of the existence of bike helmets!
Some 30 minutes later, going down a steep hill, I went round a corner, and from there have fairly patchy memories of what happened next. I know I came off the bike, apparently from the front wheel washing out on some loose earth on the road and then digging back in to the tarmac. My first point of contact was between the corner of a cobblestone on a storm drain and the front of my head.
There was a guy coming down the road behind me in a red Fiat Uno who stopped to see if I was OK, and I can remember asking him if he could pick up my bike pump before someone ran over it and I'd ride back home. He told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't riding anywhere, got me to the side of the road, and then went to get someone to call an ambulance (mobile phones being somewhat in short supply back then). He came back with another chap who'd called the ambulance, then said he really had to go, as he was already late for a meeting.
Fortunately, the chap who waited with me was a first aider for the local amateur football team, so had the good sense to get my name and contact details, as the last thing I could remember him saying was "I can hear the ambulance siren", before waking up in A&E 3 hours later, having had 27 stitches on an inch-squared area of the front of my skull just behind the hairline.
I was released from hospital 3 days later, and my mother took me over to collect my bike, as the chap who waited with me had been looking after it in the meantime. It's the first (and hopefully last) time I've ever seen a fully grown man burst into tears when opening his front door.
It seems that as soon as he'd told me he could hear the ambulance, I started having convulsions, and then passed out completely. In addition to the ambulance, there were a huge number of coppers, who closed the road in both directions, and at one stage they were apparently talking about marking up where my body was for the accident investigation unit (at this stage, I was the only person who knew that the guy in the Uno hadn't hit me, and I was in no state to be telling anyone), so this poor chap was convinced he'd never see me alive again.
So, in hospital for 3 days, off work for nearly a month, and I've never been down a hill on a push bike at anything like the same speed since! Looking back - although not so much at the time - the comedy moment of the same thing was the consultant chap doing the rounds at Wexham Park hospital with a bunch of trainee doctors in tow stopping at the bottom of my bed, looking at the notes and saying "ah yes, this chap's interesting! If his skull wasn't 30% thicker than average, he'd be dead now!"
I think that that "one" is more than enough for most of us!Some 30 minutes later, going down a steep hill, I went round a corner, and from there have fairly patchy memories of what happened next. I know I came off the bike, apparently from the front wheel washing out on some loose earth on the road and then digging back in to the tarmac. My first point of contact was between the corner of a cobblestone on a storm drain and the front of my head.
There was a guy coming down the road behind me in a red Fiat Uno who stopped to see if I was OK, and I can remember asking him if he could pick up my bike pump before someone ran over it and I'd ride back home. He told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't riding anywhere, got me to the side of the road, and then went to get someone to call an ambulance (mobile phones being somewhat in short supply back then). He came back with another chap who'd called the ambulance, then said he really had to go, as he was already late for a meeting.
Fortunately, the chap who waited with me was a first aider for the local amateur football team, so had the good sense to get my name and contact details, as the last thing I could remember him saying was "I can hear the ambulance siren", before waking up in A&E 3 hours later, having had 27 stitches on an inch-squared area of the front of my skull just behind the hairline.
I was released from hospital 3 days later, and my mother took me over to collect my bike, as the chap who waited with me had been looking after it in the meantime. It's the first (and hopefully last) time I've ever seen a fully grown man burst into tears when opening his front door.
It seems that as soon as he'd told me he could hear the ambulance, I started having convulsions, and then passed out completely. In addition to the ambulance, there were a huge number of coppers, who closed the road in both directions, and at one stage they were apparently talking about marking up where my body was for the accident investigation unit (at this stage, I was the only person who knew that the guy in the Uno hadn't hit me, and I was in no state to be telling anyone), so this poor chap was convinced he'd never see me alive again.
So, in hospital for 3 days, off work for nearly a month, and I've never been down a hill on a push bike at anything like the same speed since! Looking back - although not so much at the time - the comedy moment of the same thing was the consultant chap doing the rounds at Wexham Park hospital with a bunch of trainee doctors in tow stopping at the bottom of my bed, looking at the notes and saying "ah yes, this chap's interesting! If his skull wasn't 30% thicker than average, he'd be dead now!"
When I was about 12, I got stuck under the sail of a capsized dinghy, and whilst treading water in a deep lake, simply didn't have the strength to push it up off my head. Luckily, I hadn't swallowed too much water, and managed to shout out to my old man, who was over the other side of the hull, trying to find me. fking relieved I was, when he swam under the boat and popped up next to me under the sail and retrieved me.
king relieved I was, when he swam under the boat and popped up next to me under the sail and retrieved me.80quattro said:
When I was about 12, I got stuck under the sail of a capsized dinghy, and whilst treading water in a deep lake, simply didn't have the strength to push it up off my head. Luckily, I hadn't swallowed too much water, and managed to shout out to my old man, who was over the other side of the hull, trying to find me. fking relieved I was, when he swam under the boat and popped up next to me under the sail and retrieved me.
Daily occurrence in windsurfing, spesh when you're hooked into the boom. king relieved I was, when he swam under the boat and popped up next to me under the sail and retrieved me.
I was a passenger in a Austin Maestro years and years ago where the driver managed to lose control under braking. I have driven past the spot we ended up in hundreds of times since and there is ALWAYS a car parked in the space we ended up in. But that one day.. it was gone. Had it been there, at the speed he was doing we'd both be seriously crippled if not dead.
Got beaten most of the way to death about ten years ago when I was 16. 3 local thugs took exception to me having long hair, played football with my head and rob me blind once they had finished. With 45ish % detachment of my left retina, 85% ish of my right and a very serious concussion I had to crawl 2 miles home. Sods.
Still, fk all in comparison to other stories ITT.
Eta: also, I neglected to tell the anaesthetist of my somewhat chemically experimental youth when in for a hernia operation at about the same point in my life. Apparently that one was pretty close too.
Still, f
k all in comparison to other stories ITT.Eta: also, I neglected to tell the anaesthetist of my somewhat chemically experimental youth when in for a hernia operation at about the same point in my life. Apparently that one was pretty close too.
Edited by The Nur on Monday 17th June 11:44
Walking the dog in the woods... aware of the shooters on the other side of the tree's, heard a shotgun go off, split second later my left elbow feels like some one took a run up and kicked it.
Long enough range that only a few pellets grazed me, still left some nice holes as they tore past though.
Few inches to the right and it could have been more vital...
Luckily one of the shooters was a doctor... tight bandages and an ambulance, A&E Doc gave me some scruffy scars... no one saw what the idiot was aiming at in the woods (they should have shooting the other way)
Long enough range that only a few pellets grazed me, still left some nice holes as they tore past though.
Few inches to the right and it could have been more vital...
Luckily one of the shooters was a doctor... tight bandages and an ambulance, A&E Doc gave me some scruffy scars... no one saw what the idiot was aiming at in the woods (they should have shooting the other way)
Edited by real4star on Monday 17th June 12:54
JonRB said:
Mine's rather lame, I have to admit. But I was working at Fujifilm when Buncefield went up.
This was my desk. I think.
It happened on a Sunday morning. Had it happened on a Monday morning then I doubt that would have been survivable.
'kin hell!... what a difference a day makes This was my desk. I think.
It happened on a Sunday morning. Had it happened on a Monday morning then I doubt that would have been survivable.
Nothing that compares to many of the posts in here... lots of you folks are very lucky!
When I was 17, a few weeks after passing my test, I was of course a self-proclaimed driving god, and was completely indestructible. Driving across the ranges to Guildford, in the wet in my nearly new 2000(X-Plate) Corsa (last of the Corsa B's), I was driving too fast for the wet roads. Going round a left hand bend, the back end broke away, and sent me sliding sideways, aimed straight for a tree at 55-60mph. Pretty much blanked out that point, next thing I know I'm rolling down the road in an almost straight line. I applied the brakes and stopped.
Then someone has run up to my drivers door, pulled it open and checked I'm okay - it was the driver of the car behind me. Shaken, I got out of the car, and he showed me where my car had been (tracks in the dirt). I'd left the road, heading for the tree - my O/S/R wheel had clipped a rock, which straightened the car out, and bounced me back onto the road.
12" either side, I would have missed the rock and carried on into the tree - side on, at 50 odd mph.
When I was 17, a few weeks after passing my test, I was of course a self-proclaimed driving god, and was completely indestructible. Driving across the ranges to Guildford, in the wet in my nearly new 2000(X-Plate) Corsa (last of the Corsa B's), I was driving too fast for the wet roads. Going round a left hand bend, the back end broke away, and sent me sliding sideways, aimed straight for a tree at 55-60mph. Pretty much blanked out that point, next thing I know I'm rolling down the road in an almost straight line. I applied the brakes and stopped.
Then someone has run up to my drivers door, pulled it open and checked I'm okay - it was the driver of the car behind me. Shaken, I got out of the car, and he showed me where my car had been (tracks in the dirt). I'd left the road, heading for the tree - my O/S/R wheel had clipped a rock, which straightened the car out, and bounced me back onto the road.
12" either side, I would have missed the rock and carried on into the tree - side on, at 50 odd mph.
I was born almost dead does that count?
Apparently i was a rich blue colour from lack of oxygen, 2 months early, umbilical cord round my neck, taken my first breath in the womb. In intensive care for the first month or so of my life and had been given 50/50 odds of survival. To add to that apparently the whole thing nearly killed my mum too as i had to be emergency C sectioned and my mum was one of those 1 in 10000 women that Epidurals don’t work on! It even made it into the newspaper i have the cliping in my baby book at home.
Apparently i was a rich blue colour from lack of oxygen, 2 months early, umbilical cord round my neck, taken my first breath in the womb. In intensive care for the first month or so of my life and had been given 50/50 odds of survival. To add to that apparently the whole thing nearly killed my mum too as i had to be emergency C sectioned and my mum was one of those 1 in 10000 women that Epidurals don’t work on! It even made it into the newspaper i have the cliping in my baby book at home.
doogz said:
Ouch!
Pretty bad ass story though!
Shouldn't you have felt it before you heard it though?
13 years ago, that's how I remember it, I don't know if the shot I heard was the one that got me (IIRC there where six shooters in the group.) I don't know enough about shot-guns to tell if fired pellets are super/sub sonic.Pretty bad ass story though!
Shouldn't you have felt it before you heard it though?
Edited by real4star on Monday 17th June 13:14
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