I was 13 years old, in 7th grade. I was walking home, and some bullies had chased me off into a ditch. It was a very narrow ditch at the side of the road, my foot slipped into it, and my body took the interia forward, twisting it to the side with a pop. I was stuck there for a while while I was (lightly) beaten with sticks until the adult crossing guard chased them off. She helped me out of the ditch, and I recall limping home. Same as Saturday night, but this time my mother told me I'd be fine.
The next day, I couldn't walk, either. But in my house, doctors and hospitals were never spoken about, by rule of my father. So my mother did a lot to try and get me to walk. She even tried to bribe me. She offered me $30 if I could walk, with a smarmy wink like this would tempt me from my "dramatic presentation." I recall being really mad, one of many times, when I wished someone would take me seriously. In fact, I used this example for years afterwards to "show" my mother that things were wrong in our family, and my mother always said, "If you really had a serious injury, you wouldn't have been able to walk home." I always thought she had me there, even though my memory was different.
Now it fits. I feel somehow liberated. Weird, I know.
I don't know it all ended. I vaguely remember some threats to get my father involved, but then my mother got drunk, and I got to stay home, anyway. It turned all sorts of colors, and I recall my neighbor Mrs. Wickland (who used to be a nurse) helped wrap it a few times, also advising that I see a doctor, and me just silent because I didn't have a good answer. For years, my ankle was weak, and once in a while, it still gives me problems. I am so shocked, and kind of proud of my ankle for NOT giving way during all this, but my knee on my "good leg" is starting to get sore, and my knees have never been strong because I was once dragged behind a Big Wheel bike on them... but that's another childhood injury for another day.