While standing watch in the galley during that horrendous storm in the North Atlantic on our way to Ireland, I had a mess cook open the GDU (Garbage Disposal Unit) so I could deposit some galley trash. Seeing it was a small amount he didn't bother to secure the hatch; he just held it open. Since the GDU was almost full, I had to compact the incoming trash with my hand. You guessed it; the ship took a bad "pitch", the mess cook lost his grip and the hatch crashed down on my hand. Fortunately, as I yanked my hand out, the hatch only caught the end of my fingers.
I was able to get to the galley sink and the injured fingers under water before I passed out from shock. When "doc" got me back to the med locker I passed out again. When I regained consciousness "my bladder was empty" . . .
When we arrived in Garelockhead, outside Londonderry, Ireland, I spent a night in the British naval hospital where they x-rayed and treated the smashed "digits". I also had my first cup of British tea. "Welcome to the British Isles, Yank" . . .