Getting A Break

Most of those injuries were from accidents. Some from incidents close to home. Some from deliberate actions of one person or another. For example, one incident in later years at high school, when my ankle was snapped by a cranky school student (who was deliberately intending harm by his actions). I had been sitting outside the class just before the bell and he arrived late, looking angry. Foolishly I tried to joke, ‘Your mum catch you in bed with your girlfriend?” I asked. This wouldn’t be the first time (or last time) my humour would get me into trouble. ‘He muttered something and had stepped over my leg with one of his, before swinging it back to sandwich my ankle between his two legs. I felt the crunch, heard the bone snap, and the foot flopped sideways. But I just sat there on the stool I had been waiting outside the class on. I stated fairly flatly, ‘Donald, you just broke my ankle”. “Oh don’t be stupid”, he replied, “you’d be screaming in pain.” I sat there and thought about it. No, it wasn’t as bad as the previous two occasions, and, it obviously was a clean break as the ankle just sat there flopped to one side.
It was also immediately doubted by the teacher who, as the bell sounded for the start of the school period, came out, and asked what was going on, and told us to get into class. I explained I had just broken my ankle and at first she denied it. What? It was my ankle. How could she say it wasn’t broken? Obviously. The teacher knew better. I was told to stand up and (yep, wait for it) ‘Get into class, or face some detention”. Oh, yes, that’s always a good move. If it’s broken we’ll test it out. And if you fall flat on your face, we might believe you, but at least the threat of detention would make me move….. if I could. I then started to argue. “Mrs….(name withheld) my ankle is broken, look.’ I picked my leg up by the knee and ‘waggled’ it from side to side. The floppiness of the foot definitely wasn’t normal, neither was the blanched white colour that raced across my teachers face. I think she believed me now.
A quick bit of assistance, and following yet another trip to a local hospital, via the main office (who didn’t believe me either at first), the sick bay (the nurse was the same secretary who didn’t believe me in the office), then transported in the English teachers car (the only teacher on a free period). Sorry? Did somebody say what about an ambulance? We only requested ambulances for serious matters (also unlike today), I emerged with my ankle yet again encased in yet another plaster cast. Yes, plaster. The old plaster of paris bandages, which would not only hold the bones back in place, but would weigh the limb down.