Age 12 or 13, with a friend sitting in his living room. Seeing how many revolutions you can make a WW2 Kabar do by tossing it up in the air. We each had our Dads. He got two full flips on his. I tired for three slow lazy turns and his sister came in the room complaining about the TV showing a game instead of Days of Our Lives or something equally stupid and I looked away for just a second. Thunk. Dead center of my palm. Stuck. His sister never even noticed. Grabbed her school book and left the room. Panic on both of our parts. Some pain on mine. Playing with both Dad's Kabars was a forbidden past time, so too probably was sneaking ours out of my house. A shirt, then a towel while he ran for his big brother who took one look and took us to a pharmacy for many, many bandages and tape. The hole responded fairly well to direct pressure. About an hour or two of that slowed it down to a steady ooze which if my memory serves stayed wet for three days. Some shivering and light headedness within the first hour. Early shock symptom I think, but it passed with recognition of what it was and the direct pressure. I think the bone that becomes the middle finger stopped it. By the time my Dad saw me with a bandage on the hand later that evening at dinner the bleeding was just an ooze hidden by multiple thick gauze pads and Johnson tape and I passed it off by saying I had been playing with a knife, and he assumed the wound was more shallow than it was and merely asked if I thought I had enough gauze. At least a half inch of width, so at least that much penetration. Dad didn't realize I was changing the pads about once every three hours that first day or two (and changing and washing the bed sheets before my mother noticed the blood in the morning, and yes I had been smart enough to put some newspaper under them before going to sleep). I was very lucky, nothing really major sliced, function remained intact and within a week it started healing. The lesson learned was if the knife is in the air, step back, don't try to catch it. A secondary lesson was don't play with the Kbar. Forty or so years later there is just a very faint scar and certain knowledge if rain or snow is coming.