My story isn't anything like that but I did end up with a few bandaids on my hands when I was done. I lost my Dad New Years Eve after a two year long very bad illness. He was a first class fisherman and could catch a fish with just a piece of string, a hook, and some yarn. At the age of 83 he had a garage full of fishing tackle, which I inherited. All of it. Even the spiders inside the rod carriers. I even have his snapped in two pole he got as a gift (his name was inscribed on that pole) that ended up being sacrificed to a fish that Dad said was the size of a whale. Anyway, I went through buckets, boxes, and coffee cans of fishing tackle. All tangled together so tightly that when I lifted one such tangle out of the coffee can, it came out in one piece and was so compacted, you could see the ringed indentations of the can on the sides of the perfectly shaped can-size tangle of fishing memories.
I spent an entire day untangling everything. When I was done, I had a tear stained face and about 7 bandaids on my fingers. The tears were good but my fingers hurt.
I ended up with enough tackle, both new and antique, to fill a large tackle box and three large compartmentalized storage containers, along with 7 rods and 4 reels. 4 of the rods were snapped in two or the tip had broken off. My fingers have healed, my heart not quite yet.