This is sort of on topic.
The first chef I ever worked for also did land clearing on the side (tree removal, etc). So in addition to working for him in the kitchen I helped him clear trees. I fed trees into a chipper in the morning, then worked the line at night.
Approaching a tree job one morning, my chef/boss points to a tree to take down. I follow him and he says that he's going to clear the brush out from under the tree first. He fires up his chainsaw, swings it to the left, then to the right - and right into my kneecap. He said he thought he hit a tree stump - it was me.
He looks at me wide-eyed. I look down at the 8"-10" hole in my jeans. There is blood on his face, my face, the trees ...everywhere.
We decide to go to the hospital.
The strange thing is, I felt no pain at all, not even a little. I saw bone, ground meat and a lot of blood. Maybe I was in shock - I don't know. He offers to stitch me up himself with his Army issue medical kit sice I have no health insurance. He calls his wife (that works at the local hospital) - I can hear the wife scream through the phone from about 10 feet away. The chef/boss says "my wife thinks we should go to the hospital". I don't remember how many stitches I had.
For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to go to work that night. I lasted until about 9:00 and then the most excruciating soreness and pain set in. I had no pain killers. It was bad.
Every chef needs a good war story. When I'm in my rocking chair, telling my grandkids several "back in my day" stories, I'm sure this one will come up.
All my good scars happen outside of the kitchen. Oh well, maybe one day.