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When I was little my Dad fell off the roof of our house trying to sort the satellite out. Huge thud and a legit dent in our garden. Broke his arm, went back up, fixed the satellite and then drove himself to the hospital. In a stick shift.
Oh man, that hits home. When I was little, my uncle came over to hang Christmas lights with my dad. They had been drinking all day, but I don't think that's too relevant. After fighting over who was going to be hanging the lights, as opposed to feeding the cord from the bottom, my uncle came up with the idea that he'd get on top of the roof, while my dad fed him the cord from the top of the ladder. You know, because that way they'd both be king of the castle.
About a quarter of the way through, my uncle must have just missed a toss from my dad, and while trying to grasp the cord, he fell onto the front yard, shattering his tailbone. I guess he was too man enough to hide his pain, as he screamed in agony, and refused any and all consolation to anyone who would approach him with heroic cries of "Get the fuck away from me!" and "I'm dying, you assholes!"
He didn't get back up and finish the job. He didn't drive himself to the hospital. In fact, he pretty much just sat there and cried, until the ambulance arrived. Other than that though, pretty similar situation. Ahh', memories...