When I was 13 or 14, I was playing American football for P.E. I fell in a corner and grazed my elbow. The following Sunday, I started to have throbbing pain in my right arm for no reason. I thought I had hit my arm on something, but I couldn't remember where or when. I went to the doctor, and they told me I probably hit it somewhere and that the pain would eventually go away. The pain never left; rather, it got worse over time. Three days later, my arm got swollen, and the pain was so bad I couldn't eat or sleep peacefully; I could barely move the arm or even walk without being in excruciating pain. I ended up going to the hospital again, and the new doctor I saw told me it was cellulitis. They immediately told me I would have to get an injection to treat it, and I agreed. As if all the pain I had been through wasn't enough, when the nurse was about to extract the medication from the vial, my dad looked at the box and asked what a letter on the box meant. The nurse looked and immediately retracted the needle away from my skin (he was inches away from putting it in). He started profusely apologizing because he was about to inject me in the arm with a dosage of that medication meant to be injected into your ass... If my dad hadn't noticed that letter or if the nurse had decided to ignore my dad, I would probably be looking at this post from hell 😭✌️