Let's see...
-Tonsils removed at 2. According to my mother, I was a mess; I couldn't even breathe they were so inflamed. I remember getting there and that the OR seemed very out in the open to me. They told me I was going to be a pilot, gave me the little mask, and I conked out. Woke up and started yelling at th nurses for lying to me

They also sent me home early because I was somewhat hyperactive...I err spent hours running up and down the halls with my mom running after me, pushing the IV.
-Broken arm at 5. That was pretty bad too. I fell off the slide at school on my head and had amnesia for a day or so (not full-blown, but enough that I had no idea what happened that day). They thought my bone had popped through the skin and had me in the OR, ready to cut me open and disinfect it -- then they changed their minds. But the arm had just about broken clean in half.
Strangely enough, I had been left handed up until that point (we were of course learning how to write, and I ate with my left hand, etc.) but since I broke my left arm, I switched to my right. Today, I write with my right hand, eat with my left, brush my hair with my left, brush my teeth with my right. It's sort of weird.
-Broken nose at age 5. Fell face first onto a basement floor. Bloody.
-This summer I'm scheduled to get my wisdom teeth out and get a deviated septum in my nose corrected (a deviation that resulted from the broken nose...we'd thought all these years I'd had seasonal allergies but it turned out it was the nose all along).