I can think of two things that affected me so greatly, that I felt physical pain. Like being shot, as you say.
One is when my girlfriend at the time phoned me up and dumped me. We'd been together for a little over a year, and just spent the summer together in Hungary. Then, 3 hours before I'm on a flight to Maltha with my entire mothers side of the family, she calls me, tells me she's breaking up, that she's got the hots for someone else. This right after a skitrip she went on with her class. I'd talked to her only two days before, since I'd surprised her with a Valentine's gift that I'd made her classmate hold on to and give her.
It was surprising and very, very hurtful. I felt physically ill for a week thereafter. Then I decided that I should try and at least attempt to have some fun on the vacation. Eventually, some months after, I recovered. When eventually my ex found out she had been acting on impulse, the thrill of meeting new people in a new environment(we had both just started gymnasium, which in Denmark is the education you start after 9/10 years of public school), and she regretted her actions, and wanted me back. And I still wanted her. And thus started a long series of break ups and getting back together, that lasted for three years. We'd get other relationships sometimes, in the breakup periods, and then we'd end them to get back together. But I think our relationship never really could recover, at least not for me, after that one first breakup. It tore me up.
Another is when my dog died. I loved that dog. Then one evening, I have to go to my fathers nearby warehouse, to pick up my chair. My mother asks me to take the dog, but I decide I can't be bothered, for some reason, and tells her it'll be hard to carry the chair home with the dog in tow. When I come home, I instantly know something is very, very wrong. On my way to the door, I peek into the window to my brothers room, and he's there, with my mom, crying. When I get in, they can't even tell me why, because they are too choked uo. Then my stepfather comes in the door, and his hands are all covered in blood. I can't really understand what he says. I go to my room, with a very terrified feeling. Then I analyze what he said, you know, sometimes you hear what people say, but you don't ptoperly hear, yet later, you can sorta piece the words together and make sense of it. Well, I realized he had said Pingo(the dog's name.... no, we didn't name him) had been run over. When I refused to take him, ny mother took him for a walk instead. 10 metres out, he catches scent of something, and starts into a run. At the same time, a car goes too fast down an adjoining road. He dies instantly.
We burried him, and planted a Heart Tree(don't know if it's called something else in english, so I', just going for direct translation). Half a year after, we got a new dog. He's very different from the old one, and will never replace him. And I guess he shouldn't. The new one has got his own place in my heart. I still miss the old one, and despair by the knowledge that if only I had taken him with me, he'd still be alive.
Actually, that felt very nice to get off my chest.
