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I had a kid try to rob me once back in 1979. He was very close to me. All I could think to do was to grab the barrel and point it away from me. I figured that as long as it was not pointed towards me, even if he fired, it wouldn't hurt me (much). Well, I didn't quite take into account that as soon as I grabbed the barrel, he would try to backstep from me and fall backwards and pull the trigger. Thanks to the adrenaline of the moment, I didn't know that the .38 even hit me. I then went down on top of him and we wrestled around a bit with me making a definite point of keeping the gun pointed some way other than towards myself. After the gun quit going "bang" and started going "click", I knew I had lucked out. It wasn't until the police pulled up to take him off that I realized that some of the blood on me was mine.