I still have no idea what happened, because I don't recall any slip, trip, or fall precipitating it, but my right ankle began to hurt on the evening of July 2nd. The morning of the 3rd, I woke up to the realization that something was catastrophically wrong. I could not bear any weight on the leg without severe pain. After much difficulty, and accompanied by no small amount of swearing, I managed to get myself to the restroom, and then to the sofa with my laptop to begin assessing the situation.
I called my neighbor, a retired nurse, and asked her to give a more informed opinion than my own. There was visible swelling, but no obvious indications of a fracture, so she suggested acetaminophen (a.k.a. paracetamol or Tylenol), ice, elevation, and rest. I spent most of that day on the sofa with my foot raised on some throw pillows while I watched movies and played games to keep my mind off the pain. My father found a cane I could use to get around when I absolutely had to, but I spent the day in a haze.
On the 4th, the Mother Thing remembered there was a set of crutches stored somewhere from when dad had a broken ankle, and brought those to me. It was a marked improvement over the cane, because I had not improved much. Even with the cane for support, any walking aggravated my ankle anew. The crutches meant I could keep my right leg almost entirely protected from stress.
Now, it is the evening of the 5th, and recovery has progressed. Swelling has gone down a bit, some movement has been restored, and I can bear some weight on it again. I am cautiously trying to flex the joint and regain some range of motion, but it still sends a sharp flare of pain if moved in the wrong way. I am now using the crook of the cane to help reach down and move my foot. My Achilles tendon is still sore, as is the instep, and rotation in all axes is still diminished, but I am optimistic for tomorrow, and at this rate, I may be fully recovered in another couple days.
This sudden-onset disability reminded me of something I heard early on when I was attending the local community college: Disability isn't really an outlier. We're all temporarily abled. Age, injury, disease, and more can hit even the healthiest among us. I expect to regain full mobility soon, but my struggles with this episode shine a light on an issue my parents face as they age: homes often aren't designed with aging in mind. Neither handle stairs well, but the laundry room, a lot of storage, and the wood furnace are all in the basement.
As a draftsman, I learned more about the Americans with Disabilities Act as it applied to commercial and residential design. We also had to take this into consideration whenever we made changes to the library when I worked there. 
If you are buying, remodeling, or building a home, I suggest planning for possible disability from the start. The ground floor should include a bedroom, a full bath, the laundry room, the kitchen, and main living space if possible. Wide doorways and corridors make it easier to move furniture or roll though on a wheelchair. Focus less on overall square footage in favor of more attention to better design and materials. I may start drafting some floor plans for more accessible starter/retirement homes at some point myself.
Changes may require breaking free of preconceptions. For example, European readers may not find this idea novel, but Americans should consider their tendency toward laundry facilities in the kitchen. Plumbing, electricity, and gas (in some cases) are already there. Countertops or the kitchen table can serve double duty for folding clothes. If you've had experience with disability or design, what ideas outside the building codes and traditional floor plan assumptions would you recommend?
Image source: Wikimedia
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