Sadly, it took a couple of days to think up a story I could tell about my childhood that didn't involve surgery (I've only had surgery a handful of times, but for some reason, those times were sticking out). Instead, I'll tell you of how it took 3 tries to enroll me into 3rd grade.
At the end of my 2nd grade year, my family moved from an apartment to a house. Because this house was far away from my current elementary school, I would have to change schools the next year (I had maybe a month left of school that year, so I finished the year in the same school). So, the time to enroll me comes around and we (my parents and I) go to what seems to be the closest elementary school, only to find out that it isn't the right school. But they are pretty sure school 2 is the right school.
We go to school 2, and no they aren't the right school either. But they know which school is the right school as this isn't the first time they've not been able to enroll a student because it wasn't the right school (I'm not sure what the boundary lines were for elementary schools in my school district, but they must have been interesting). So, we drive over to school 3. By the time we're in the parking lot, I'm crying because I've convinced myself that they won't want me either (I was 8, so that may have had something to do with it).
Anyway, school 3 turned out to be the right school. I went there for 4 years and loved the school. But I still kind of shake my head over the fact that it took 3 tries to find the right school.