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The Scariest Moment Of Your Life (Fortean Or Not)

I used to 'pay in' monthly to the HSA - Healthcare Saving Association (I think). Best investment I had, since it help pay for regular private dental care (when I couldn't get NHS) and gave me a regular weekly payment while I was in hospital, regardless of my being in NHS treatment.
Can't find it around these days.
 
Stormkhan said:
I used to 'pay in' monthly to the HSA - Healthcare Saving Association (I think). Best investment I had, since it help pay for regular private dental care (when I couldn't get NHS) and gave me a regular weekly payment while I was in hospital, regardless of my being in NHS treatment.
Can't find it around these days.
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HSA stood for Hospital Savings Association and is part of Simplyhealth now. I remember the HSA because my grandparents were members.

https://www.simplyhealth.co.uk/about-us/our-history
 
mrs_mose said:
My scariest moment was at age 29 when a GP told me the lump in my boob was definitely hormonal and would go down by itself...spoiler alert - it did not :omg:

Thank the gods for private health insurance!
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Have to say, after finding a few lumps 'ere and there I'm always going to consider taking a second opinion.
I'm prone to fatty cysts which are harmless but worrying. Had a couple of them scanned, ticked off as time wasting benign, all on the NHS.
 
Stormkhan said:
I used to 'pay in' monthly to the HSA - Healthcare Saving Association (I think). Best investment I had, since it help pay for regular private dental care (when I couldn't get NHS) and gave me a regular weekly payment while I was in hospital, regardless of my being in NHS treatment.
Can't find it around these days.
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Mines a work perk, definitely had my moneys worth out of it with over £100k in chemo and surgery!
 
One of my scariest moments to date:
When I was in my early twenties my partner and I shared a house that we had just moved into on a long lane opposite an old off-licence. It was one of those type of places where nothing ever happened. My partner worked and I was studying at that point, but we both arrived home at a similar time early each evening.
One Friday eve he went up to grab a quick shower whilst I nipped over to the shop to buy a few bottles of something. As I stepped inside (and this all happened very, very quickly) two enormous men wearing all black with woolly tights over their heads shouted at me to stay exactly where I was and not move. I was half way inside the door.

Both of them held guns, one pointing at the head of the shop keeper who was kneeling on the floor. Two other customers were inside - a woman to my left and an older man to the rear of the shop. As one of the masked men yelled at me to keep still, he pointed the gun (it was large-ish and long, no idea what type it was) straight at me, and in a fraction of a second I bolted back out of the door and ran like hell across the road to our house and scrambled to get my key in the lock. It seemed to take forever to get that door open, although I am certain now that it was probably a matter of seconds. During this time I was fully expecting to get shot in the back.
I never turned to look, and once inside bolted up the stairs to find my partner who was still in the shower. He never tired of relating this scene for years afterwards; the pounding of my feet on the stairs, hurtling into the bathroom trying to catch my breath, my heart pounding, unable to articulate anything apart from "They had guns!". He thought I was having him on.

I was so convinced that they had seen where we lived, which was directly opposite the shop, that we moved out a few weeks later. Thankfully they were apprehended in the next town the following day. Although the shop keeper sustained some fairly nasty injuries, nobody else was hurt. God knows if the weapons were real.
Looking back it seems like a strange dream. I had led a rather pampered, middle class life up to this point so my reaction may have been a little bit wackadoo, but I really didn't want to continue living there, even if rationally I was fully aware that we were in no real danger. I couldn't sleep for a week and we went to stay with my parents. I remember trying to write it all down in a journal, which I probably still have, somewhere. We spent an hour or so with a detective that evening who told us that my 'inexplicable' reaction had caused them to take off without having taken any money. The shopkeeper gave me a very large amount of free booze for intervening at the right time :D .

When I looked back on this, and even shortly afterwards, I could NOT explain why I ran. If I approach my actions consciously I would not have even budged. I would never have dared to move a single inch. I certainly learned that we can never predict what we might do in a crisis.
 
merricat said:
One of my scariest moments to date:
When I was in my early twenties my partner and I shared a house that we had just moved into on a long lane opposite an old off-licence. It was one of those type of places where nothing ever happened. My partner worked and I was studying at that point, but we both arrived home at a similar time early each evening.
One Friday eve he went up to grab a quick shower whilst I nipped over to the shop to buy a few bottles of something. As I stepped inside (and this all happened very, very quickly) two enormous men wearing all black with woolly tights over their heads shouted at me to stay exactly where I was and not move. I was half way inside the door.

Both of them held guns, one pointing at the head of the shop keeper who was kneeling on the floor. Two other customers were inside - a woman to my left and an older man to the rear of the shop. As one of the masked men yelled at me to keep still, he pointed the gun (it was large-ish and long, no idea what type it was) straight at me, and in a fraction of a second I bolted back out of the door and ran like hell across the road to our house and scrambled to get my key in the lock. It seemed to take forever to get that door open, although I am certain now that it was probably a matter of seconds. During this time I was fully expecting to get shot in the back.
I never turned to look, and once inside bolted up the stairs to find my partner who was still in the shower. He never tired of relating this scene for years afterwards; the pounding of my feet on the stairs, hurtling into the bathroom trying to catch my breath, my heart pounding, unable to articulate anything apart from "They had guns!". He thought I was having him on.

I was so convinced that they had seen where we lived, which was directly opposite the shop, that we moved out a few weeks later. Thankfully they were apprehended in the next town the following day. Although the shop keeper sustained some fairly nasty injuries, nobody else was hurt. God knows if the weapons were real.
Looking back it seems like a strange dream. I had led a rather pampered, middle class life up to this point so my reaction may have been a little bit wackadoo, but I really didn't want to continue living there, even if rationally I was fully aware that we were in no real danger. I couldn't sleep for a week and we went to stay with my parents. I remember trying to write it all down in a journal, which I probably still have, somewhere. We spent an hour or so with a detective that evening who told us that my 'inexplicable' reaction had caused them to take off without having taken any money. The shopkeeper gave me a very large amount of free booze for intervening at the right time :D .

When I looked back on this, and even shortly afterwards, I could NOT explain why I ran. If I approach my actions consciously I would not have even budged. I would never have dared to move a single inch. I certainly learned that we can never predict what we might do in a crisis.
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Jesus Christ. That's mental. :oops: .. I'd have legged it as well.

I had something close to that happen two nights in a row about 25 years ago.

I made the mistake of helping someone out who turned out to be seriously dangerous. I didn't know at the time but he was an ex pimp who'd slashed a girl's legs with a knife in a local kebab shop, was also dealing in guns, alcohol, drugs, you name it ..... 7ft 1inch tall Jamaican. He had a few nicknames I later found out, one of those being 'longers' which I was told he'd got in prison. I was told at some point he'd been put in solitary confinement when he was prison (someone I knew was in the next cell) and had stayed awake because he knew the guards were going to beat him up because he'd beat one of them up. I was told he was laughing when they eventually beat him up. I've never been in prison and I don't have a criminal record so I realised I was seriously out of my depth with this man.

He seemed likeable at first. I'd found him some work but a problem with money movement that wasn't my fault made him think I'd robbed him. The first night, I was lying on the floor with my back against our flat door praying he wouldn't get in, he was shouting "I'M GONNA KILL YOUR BITCH" .. we called the police. They turned up and managed to keep him downstairs, there was only 2 officers and one of them told me "He's slowing down. It used to take 6 of us to get him in a car."

They arrested him because he was wanted for robbing a post office in Derby but I knew he'd be released the next day so I rigged our flat up. I had a large tree stump at the top of the stairs to throw at him if he tried to climb up, our kettle on standby with sugar in it to throw in is face as the next line of defence and various other underground tricks.

This was a rough area so people hated 'a police grass' but even they were sympathetic because they were scared of him as well. One bloke's girlfriend told me "He will come back so phone the police and tell them you think he's armed."

He did. I'd put a sofa on it's side and wedged that against the wall, my flat was now rigged up because he was the sort of bloke who might turn up with an axe. He kicked the door in of the flat opposite to mine just so he could get a good run up to kick our door in. I shouted through the door to tell him to fuck off because the police were on their way. He went downstairs and hid in someone else's flat (they were too scared to refuse) then ran off. The police arrived (armed response because they already knew him), they looked like rugby players. I spent some time living like this with people keeping an eye out for me. I went to Birmingham and bought a high powered can canister air gun which I had modified. I told my Dad who just laughed (cheers for that Dad) then hid out at a friend's house.

I had to quit a job I had because he was waiting for me there in the mornings, he had a friend up against the wall trying to find out where I was but someone tougher brought him down to the ground. I ended up moving out of that town and not telling anyone where I was going so he couldn't ever find me. His brother had been in prison for killing someone. It taught me to be a lot more selective about who I chose to help.

The only plus is that hardcore psycho was actually a good laugh (when he wasn't trying to kill me) and a talented artist. I still own a pencil sketch he gifted me of a scared looking man he copied from a photograph from the back of a DVD. I made the mistake of blurting out to the police "but he's a really good artist?" .. they both looked at each other then one of them sarcastically said "Yeah. His pottery's amazing as well." .. I don't make these mistakes anymore.
 
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merricat said:
I certainly learned that we can never predict what we might do in a crisis.
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I'd agree with that but it sounds like you actually did the right thing! So well done for that!

Not my most scarey moment but one that taught me that I'd been wrong about the notion that in a crisis some higher part of my self would take over and do the wise thing.

Back in the days when if you were on the phone you were stuck in the hall I was having a conversation with a friend when I noticed my youngest toddling along with his dads calculator. I was about to take it off him in case he damaged it but then thought, 'sod him it's about time he learned to put his things away and out of reach of inquisitive little hands so carried on talking. That is until, 'sorry gotta go there's a funny kind of burning smell'. Raced to the kitchen to find the calculator in flames on one of the back hotplates ! How the little scamp got it there and managed to switch on the right one I've no idea ... he said he'd dragged a chair but if so he'd also put it back.

So what did ms 'calm in a crisis do'?

Just stood there yelling 'help!' 'help!' who the hell I thought was going to come to my aid I've no idea. All I was thinking was that water and electricity don't mix. Eventually I put my hand through the flames to turn the cooker off and then threw water over it. This put the flames out but filled the kitchen with toxic black smoke so I grabbed my son and legged it next door, my self confidence totally in tatters!

PS His early misadventure in cooking didn't put my son off as he later trained as a chef!
 
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I've read your account of this before @Swifty and as before I'm amazed about your adventurous life and what you've done to survive. It seems to me that your inbuilt instinct to help others has led you into an awful lot of scrapes. Stay safe my Fortean friend and write that book!!!!
 
Sollywos said:
I've read your account of this before @Swifty and as before I'm amazed about your adventurous life and what you've done to survive. It seems to me that your inbuilt instinct to help others has led you into an awful lot of scrapes. Stay safe my Fortean friend and write that book!!!!
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I didn't enjoy it Sollywos so I won't be writing a book about it. I'm just very unlucky sometimes. Thank you for being happy I'm surviving. Everyone who knows me has told me the same thing, it's not even down to bad decision making ... I found an enamel badge today on the floor that was marking the coronation of King Charles the 3rd, I thought 'sweet!' then I noticed it was a badge given to girl guides because of the logo on it and I'm a 50 year old man. I even said to the Mrs "You know how much bad luck I get .. I suppose some girl guide's been murdered and this badge will be traced back to me somehow.". It would be funny if it was funny.

Who still buys books these days?.
 
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charliebrown said:
Things can change within a second.

Do you suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder ?
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Not sure if you meant me, but no, we moved into a lovely new house a few weeks later and it felt like a distant dream. The first week was tough though. As far as I know the shopkeeper is still going, along with his business, all these yrs later!
 
That sounds rough @Swifty, and worse for the length of time it took to 'resolve'. It's a tricky thing, our perception of luck - considering oneself unlucky seems to draw it towards us, I think I made a post about this on here some time ago, it's a fascinating subject.

@Sollywos - your story reminded me of something that we now laugh at, however it wasn't so amusing at the time! My partner was working through the night at a studio and I was at home - both night owls with 4 cats at the time - so I only went to bed around 4am. Around this time I set about feeding the cats, one of which was a big greedy tabby who loved his nosh. I reached for a tin of salmon Choosy, purchased in a large pack from Morrison's, and as soon as I had it open a tiny bit the entire can exploded all over myself, the cats and our kitchen. It was VILE! I have never in my life witnessed anything quite so rancid, and had absolutely no idea how to go about dealing with it.

I managed to wash some of it from my face then just sat it out, waiting for my partner to arrive home and deal with it:willy: ...
Pathetically I had no clear idea where to begin. What did baffle me, in the heat of this shameful moment, was how our large tabby calmly licked this foul substance from his fur as if it was fresh cream, whilst the other cats were deeply (and rightly) disgusted. I did come to my senses during the big clean up though, so although it took me several hours to act, I eventually snapped out of it. I think this was the night before we had a total eclipse of the sun, so late 90's?? So I can blame it on that.

(Oh, and Morrison's gave us a massive free batch of Choosy to compensate, not that I ever wanted to see that stuff again).
 
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Oh @merricat what can I say to that ... I had to laugh but it made me feel better that it's not just me who freezes in a crisis. Mind you getting someone else to clean up a mess if you can get away with it is always a good option. In my case, above, I paid my neighbours partner who was a window cleaner by trade so he knew a bit about cleaning, to come and clean up my kitchen. Meantime I had a nice visit with my friend! :)
 
Maybe not the scariest moment, but maybe the most messy moment.

The wife bringing home a watermelon, not knowing that sometimes bacteria can get inside a watermelon causing fermentation, when we stuck a knife into it, the watermelon exploded like a bomb causing the biggest mess.

It took a few days to clean up.
 
charliebrown said:
Maybe not the scariest moment, but maybe the most messy moment.

The wife bringing home a watermelon, not knowing that sometimes bacteria can get inside a watermelon causing fermentation, when we stuck a knife into it, the watermelon exploded like a bomb causing the biggest mess.

It took a few days to clean up.
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I'm trying very hard not to imagine two people covered in watermelon, wondering what just happened. Classic.
 
Swifty said:
Who still buys books these days?.
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Missed this comment earlier! Well I for one do, real and electronic. Oh the joy of being able to buy books for my kindle in the middle of the night!

I do still find myself preferring to go into a bookshop rather than shop for clothes and stuff. I feel insecure if I haven't got a big pile of real books, and at least 50 novels and dozens of factual (including fortean) books waiting on my kindle! From what I've gleaned on here I'm far from the only member that feels like this. Didn't we have a thread of people posting photos of their book cases a while back?

To conclude a real scarey thing would be realising I'd run out of new books to read ... doesn't bear thinking about ... shudder.
 
@Sollywos
Yes, absolutely! I buy physical books- both hard and paperback, as well as for my Kindle *all the time*. If I go into a bookshop and don't come out with something, well, I feel *wrong* somehow. My bookshelves take up nearly all the space in my house, driving my wife to distraction- in fact it was she that gifted me the Kindle, in the hope it would stop me filling my shelves. And it worked, to an extent. In that I had a wide range of books suddenly at my fingertips, and for a much smaller expenditure. But that doesn't stop me buying a physical copy of anything I have really enjoyed on the device. Having something on Kindle doesn't feel to me like actually owning it.

This is the reason I'm not paying a subscription to get books for free. It just feels like borrowing them from the library.
 
Sollywos said:
Missed this comment earlier! Well I for one do, real and electronic. Oh the joy of being able to buy books for my kindle in the middle of the night!

I do still find myself preferring to go into a bookshop rather than shop for clothes and stuff. I feel insecure if I haven't got a big pile of real books, and at least 50 novels and dozens of factual (including fortean) books waiting on my kindle! From what I've gleaned on here I'm far from the only member that feels like this. Didn't we have a thread of people posting photos of their book cases a while back?

To conclude a real scarey thing would be realising I'd run out of new books to read ... doesn't bear thinking about ... shudder.
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I have a whole load of books I haven't read yet. I guess when I retire, I'll have plenty to read.
 
The exploding watermelon was a shock covering us, walls, floor, and chairs.

I had no idea about the fermentation inside bad watermelon could build to such pressure.

To change the idea, the only book store left in our area has books, a play area for children, and most important a fancy coffee inside, and they still seem to struggle with sales.
 
charliebrown said:
To change the idea, the only book store left in our area has books, a play area for children, and most important a fancy coffee inside, and they still seem to struggle with sales.
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Maybe it's because Internet retailers have now taken the biggest market share?
It's unfortunate.
 
Having my head smashed in with one of those huge lambrini bottles, full... By a psycho bitch at a party for nothing... Knocked me out for a min, when I came round she was ripping my hair out.

It took 3 men to get her off me !!.then she started fighting THEM...the men were reluctant to throw the bitch out because she has 3 horrible brothers who fit the descriptions of Swifty's psycho post above. (Pimps/cons/nasty pieces of work)


Also Car crashes, never me driving I don't drive...and been ran over on purpose by a taxi driver who's taxi I'd just got out of. Won't get into the whys N wherefores of that one as I'd get myself banned.
 
I'm struggling to think of scariest moments. Most of them involve my trick knee giving way, sometimes on stairs, or my perception that the knee is going to go, which is why I really hate walking on ice.
 
If I have had a scary moment, it's been on reflection and way after the fact.
It might just be me but incidents have occurred, I've dealt with them, experienced the outcome, or just shrugged it off.
I can't ever feel scared, as such, apart from one incident ...
For reasons that are long and drawn out piffle, I used to climb the walls and roofs of my school. An urban climber, if you will, before parkour or exploration was a thing.
One cold and frosty night, I lost my grip on a roof peak and slowly slid down the clay tiles towards a three-story drop. I didn't scrabble - habit because I knew I wasn't meant to be there? - but glanced down for finger-holds etc. Nothing. Luckily, it was a slow process and I had a minute to think ... I came to the edge, and jammed my toes of both feet into the rain gutter! No probs!
Taking deep breaths, I looked around, assessed a way to get to a gable and edged my way back, to retrace my upward route and back into my room. It was then that I realised how close to plunging to my death.

To me, dealing with fear isn't a conscious decision. People who confront violent crazies don't intend to be heroes - they do it because of something within themselves. In my case - it was my own fault; I was doing a dangerous thing and so the fear I experienced was a learning curve. When people are involved - even involuntarily - in violent confrontation, it is a thing that is within their own character and so is to be admired ... even against their will! ;)
 
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