When I was a kid, skateboarding was my activity of choice. My friends and I were run around town and skate in any interesting spot we could find. For some reason, people always assumed we were up to no good. Or maybe they just didn’t like skateboarders. Either way, we used to get yelled at a lot for no good reason. This led to us running from place to place. That’ll be important later.

One day, myself and a few of my friends were skating in the parking lot near our local park. We were teaching ourselves how to grind using a small stairway railing. It was the perfect spot because there was a long stretch of cement on the top end of the staircase that let us get some really good speed, and the bottom was about 90% grass, with only a small sidewalk ahead of the staircase.

We were taking turns grinding down the rail, and none of us had made it yet. We would jump up, maybe hit the rail, and then fall right away. We usually landed on our feet, and when we didn’t, it was easy enough to just hit the grass.

After about four or five tries, my turn to hit the rail had come up again. I ran up the stairs, hit my board, got a whole lot of speed and made my way towards the staircase. At this point, I didn’t see it, but an older man was walking out of his front door, preparing to yell at us for being “too loud” with our boards.

In an instant, I jumped high enough, landed on the rail and began grinding down, while this old fellow screamed at me. I lost my concentration, looked at the guy and fell. Of course, this time, I fell right into the sidewalk, arms outstretched to protect my face. I happened to land at just the right angle and jammed my finger into the cement.

I knew right away it was broken. I mean, it was crooked and it hurt like absolute hell. We made a run for it because I didn’t tell my friends what happened to my finger, and we assumed this guy was still angry. Later that day, my mom drove me to urgent care. I begged her to take me to the hospital, but urgent care it was. The doctor gave me a split and didn’t snap my finger back in place.

To this day, I still have a crooked ring finger on my left hand due to that urgent care doctor. Hell, I would’ve prefered my primary care physician to that. I didn’t take my healthcare so seriously back then, but I do remember being pretty upset about that crooked finger. Thankfully, every urgent care experience I’ve had since I was 12 has been completely excellent.

Do you have any wild childhood stories you want to share? How about your experiences in urgent care? Share your thoughts and comments down below!