I'll confess, but I'll not adding to the offering plate.
This past January 28th, I was in the living room of my home. Mom had just purchased a *flinch* Jennings .380. I should have known better.
I took the magazine out, and was looking the gun over. I finished, put the slide back in, and went to put it back in it's box. In doing so, I glimpsed the instructions on "caring for your new gun". I took them out and began to read the dis-assembly instructions. I thought to myself, "it wouldn't be hard at all". I took the gun from the box, pulled the slide back, pushed the sear in, and pushed the slide back foward. Nothing happened, it didn't come off like it should had. I again, pushed the slide back, pushed the sear, and BAMM!
One .380 round entered my right hand between the index finger and middle finger on the palm side. It exited on the right side of the back of my hand, just above the wrist.
On it's path through my hand, the bullet shattered the meta-carpals of my middle finger. Thank God it was a FMJ and not a HP! Anyway, mother jumped, and I walked to the sink cussing myself for being so stupid and realizing that I'd never live it down. Which I haven't--I'm teased every day about it. "Hey trigger"..."tell me, just how DO you clean again?", etc... I laughed at myself then, I do now. After preaching and preaching about gun safety, I had just had my first AD and stood staring at a limp and broken hand.
To fix the shattered bones in my hand, they had to take some bone from my elbow. The surgery took place 1 week after the incident and went as planned. 3.5 hours later, my hand was reconstructed, and I now have a 3" scar on the back of my hand (17 stitches), an entrance/exit wound scar (11 combined), and about a 2" scar on the palm of my hand (15 stitches).
I also have a nice little metal plate, 5 tiny screws, and 2 twistie ties, holding it all together for 18 months. After that, it'll be up to me to get the metal removed. It'll stay unless the cold weather this year proves to be a nuisance. I'm anxious to see how big of a role that will play.
My hand is completely healed now and I have full range of movement with it again. I've gained a new respect for guns. I just grew too complacent I guess, and it took a wake up call for me to realize, once again, just who holds the cards in this life.
I was extremely lucky and fortunate. My mother was so close--had the bullet hit her, the pain I felt that day would be minute to knowing I'd shot my mother--accident or not.
A buddy once told me, "brother, until you've had an AD, you'll never know what it's like"... That was the truth.
I could try to explain the feelings I had that day, the feelings I have today and so forth, but until you've had an AD, no words can describe what it's like.
Anyway, I've taken enough time to describe this, I'll go back to my pew now.
)
As for did it hurt? Not as bad as I thought it would. But if I could describe it, the best I could say is: It's like a firecracker going off in your hand, or like a car door being slammed on it. Just a constant, numbing, burn...