SUTLS

Today, I woke up at 6.39 and burst my toe. When my alarm started going off at 6.45 I ran back to my room. This was to get to the alarm quickly and to warm me up because the flat was freezing. I caught my foot on the kitchen door frame. I had a split second where it didn't hurt, but I wasn't fooled and braced myself. Then it came. Although this is meant to be a polite blog, stubbing my toe hurt so much that I started calling the doorway a fucking cunt, i think more than once.

I tried to put the pain out of my mind and hobbled to the bathroom to get ready. I noticed I was leaving a trail of blood behind. I looked down at my foot and saw that my little toe had split down the side and had chunks of flesh dangling from the back. I felt a bit sick. I dressed it up, finished washing and putting my clothes and shoes on.

If it hurt before, trying to walk whilst wearing shoes was a lot worse. Unfortunately it was cold outside and going to work with bare feet was not an option.

When I got to school, I could feel the blood squishing around in my sock. I went to the man in charge of organising cover teachers and requested a day off to go to the hopsital. When I told him the damage, he gave me his blessing. I set some work for the classes I'd be missing and hopped back down to the bus stop so I could get to A and E.

The waiting room was a dour place full of people cradling their arms or raising their legs. They were all staring mournfully up at Tricia on the TV. I deliberately sat in a place where I couldn't see the screen as I don't like to be reminded that such useless and parasitic people exist. The nurse came out and called a name - "Amreen Saddiq" or something similar. Nobody responded. She came back out and tried again ten minutes later, but was met with just more blank looks. On the third attempt, she cornered the only Asian lady present and insisted it was her turn to be seen. The lady said she wasn't the patient in question. A small argument ensued - of course she had to be lying as she was Asian and it was an Asian name.

The nurse only gave up when she consulted the receptionist to ID her and was told the real Amreen had left. The imposter sat down laughing and didn't seem at all bothered by what had just happened. Maybe the NHS had a reputation for racism (as well as everything else) that I wasn't aware of. If I'd have thought quick enough, I could have been Amreen. It would have saved me half an hour's wait.

Then some commoners walked in. The man was dirty with a crap moustache and the woman was angry. She sneered at everything. Clearly, life owed her something. They had three children who were obviously all born within nine months and a day of each other. From the foul mouthed lashings they received, I found out that they were called Sienna, Kylie and Jordan.

Sienna wanted a chocolate bar from the machine. How dare she quietly request anything from her mum. Jordan left his seat to stretch his legs and was met with an almighty and genuinely chilling telling off. The three kids all sat there peering down through their greasy hair and thick glasses at the floor, looking dejected. It was as if they knew what life had instore for them. I could smell chip fat.

Dad was trying to work the payphone but to little effect. Mum stared at the rest of us viciously for doing something we were all unaware of. I suppose she blamed us for not being hateful and bitter. Then, in a whirlwind of profanity, the pair of them stormed out dragging as many of their doomed children they could carry. Apparently, the fucking phone fucking jacked his forty pence.

Five minutes later, they returned to pull a frightened Jordan away too, but not before fixing a stare at the payphone and calling it a wanker. I'm sure they get more than 40p a week for doing absolutely nothing anyway, so they should probably just calm down and be a bit more philosophical about the whole affair. Their hasty retreat showed no signs of injury so I concluded that they were more than likely just there for the warmth.

The nurse came out again and called for Mr, before trailing off pathetically. I knew she was calling me, my surname is difficult, but after the previous incident I wanted to see how she'd deal with it so I kept quiet. She shook her head at the piece of paper she was holding. There was a man with a square head wearing a builders jacket in the room and with my name being Polish, I half expected her to grab him by the ear and march him off to the consultants room. But she didn't. She gave up and called for Tom. In my years of strangers struggling with my name, this was perhaps the laziest and most useless attempt at reading it out. I got up and wonkily trudged to the next room.

I went through the motions to find out I'd broken my little toe only, but in three places. One of the cuts around the back of my toe was deep enough that apparently you could see the broken bone through. I'm not flexible enough to notice this by myself and am glad. I would have been less calm about the whole ordeal if I had known this. The thought of walking on bare skeleton horrifies me.

They gave it a lot of attention, but told me they had to do so as the risk of infection was present. I wouldnt want to end up losing a leg or dying because I stubbed my toe, so I soaked up all their advice whilst thinking of a more manly way to explain how I injured myself. I'm not sure if there really is a heroic way of breaking a little toe. I had my toes glued back up and strapped together and then left. Though it was only lunch time, I went back home instead of back to work. I watched Neighbours, Doctors and Diagnosis Murder, occasionally breaking for cups of tea or food.

I also found a bit of flesh on the door frame.