Well, to start off, it was my fault.
Now that's out of the way I'll give you a condensed story. We used to go to Cumberland Island, GA pretty often when I was a kid. They have wild horses roaming the island there, so you will encounter them. Also, you should know that I was a hard-headed, FAFO kind of kid, and this happened around 10 years old. Anyway, there are lots of warnings not to touch the horses, but I was comfortable with horses, so of course I touched the horses. Well, my cousin said I wouldn't pet the stallion, a big ol Clydesdale lookin SOB. Well, I touched him, he touched me and punted me from dry sand out into the surf (this was on the beach). I crawled out of the water and started going through a series of conscious-to-unconscious while people started moving me toward medical care.
From the surf to mainland involved a 15-20 wheelbarrow ride and a 45 minute boat ride to get to the ambulance. At the hospital I was put into ICU and stayed there for a day or two. I was in and out the whole time so things got blurred. It just so happened that a day before I got there some girl my age had been brought in from a similar incident with domestic horses, but she didn't make it due to internal bleeding, so the Drs were a little on edge.
In the end I had a shattered wrist, some major bruising and swelling that took about 2 months to recover from, and a permanently deformed hip, which is luckily where the horse hit me. The bone is hoof shaped now, and I'm skinny enough to see it, so I don't think I'll ever forget.
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I spent about 2 weeks in a wheel chair, but the hardest part came about 3-4 months later when my oldest sister made me get on her horse and ride. That was extremely hard, but I'm lad she got me on there.
I had a similar experience, but not nearly as bad. I was newly married, and my wife and I visited Assateague Island. We just crossed the bridge when we saw a wild pony.
I got out and started petting it. I looked at my wife and said get the camera. When I looked away. the pony did a 180, and instead of petting his mane, I was petting his behind. He kicked and his hoof hit my upper thigh. Another inch or so to the left, and probably wouldn't have been able to have children.
I was on the ground, writhing in pain, and my wife was laughing. I had to crawl back to the car. 50 yards down the road was a sign "Do Not Pet the Ponies, They Kick and Bite".