Mom and I are big HGTV fans and often comment about the size of the ensuite or in today’s terms primary bathrooms formerly known as the master bathroom. A new small-size primary bathroom will be at least ten by ten. The more you pay for your home the larger the primary bathroom seems to get.

My mom’s house was built in 1965 and the primary bedroom does have an ensuite bathroom, which was luxury back then. Today, however, it’s the butt of a lot of jokes. It’s only five by four and the shower stall is three by three.

We have looked at every possible angle to make it larger. If we take out the hall closet, then we can make the shower stall larger. Take out the thirty-inch vanity, there would be so much more room between the vanity and the toilet and the door when opened. I can’t tell you how many times my hairdryer and the door have collided. Removing the door and replacing it with a pocket or barn door has also been an option. The final option we’ve discussed would be to not only take out the hall closet but also take some space from the main bathroom.

All the options have been discussed repeatedly, but we’ve always come to the same resolution. Just leave it as it is, and boy am I glad we did.

On March 7th Gus, my 80-pound one-year-old Labrador Retriever while we were on a walk, was behind me and decided to body slam me. I went flying and when I landed, I broke my ankle in two places and probably ruptured a ligament. My ankle was now sitting about a quarter inch to the left of where it should be. I didn’t know this at the time and walked through rough terrain and down 3 blocks home. In pain but not terrible.

I decided to have my neighbor take me to the ER as things were not looking or feeling great. Three hours later I was home with my first splint a pair of crutches, and orders to be non-weight bearing. Almost immediately the crutches were left standing up against the wall, as I had more fear of breaking something else while using them. Walking on the splint caused no pain so the crutches continued to collect dust against the wall.

The next time I attempted to use the crutches was at my first appointment with an orthopedic physician. From the description I got of the break by the ER doctor, I thought it was no big deal, and that I would swap my splint for an orthopedic boot.

I returned to the practice that I used for my knee replacement. Unfortunately, I was not able to see the same physician as he only does hip and knee replacements. I was offered an appointment on March 13th with their latest and greatest hire. Much like my knee surgeon was when I first met him, he had only finished his Fellowship six months prior. I took the first appointment I could get.

After initial introductions, Dr. “Y” which stands for Yerrapragad, got very serious and said, “You have two options, but only one is practical, which is surgery. You have two breaks in your fibula, your ankle is sitting a quarter of an inch to the left, probably because you ruptured a ligament.”

Shocked, all I could say was, “And if I don’t have surgery?”

“In five years, your ankle will be a mess, and are going to have to have surgery because it would have healed wrong. Walking will be extremely painful and whoever does the surgery is going to have to rebreak the fibula. I recommend we do this immediately and I have an opening this Thursday.”

Stuttering, with my shock growing deeper, “I must call my partner Darrell who lives in Fort Lauderdale. I’m only here taking care of my mother, and he comes out every couple of months. He’s going to need to time get things in order before he leaves.”

“You can’t wait too long. Three weeks after the break the bones will start to heal, and I’m going to have to re-break them. March 23rd is my next opening after this week, and I wouldn’t wait any longer than that. Renee is going to fit you with a boot. Continue being non-weight bearing until your surgery.”

“I’ll call Darrell tonight and get back to you tomorrow.”

My neighbor had taken me to this appointment and the look on my face said everything, “You have to have surgery, don’t you?”

“Yes, and now I have to get Darrell out here by March 23rd, or it gets worse by the day.”

As he’s always been with whatever situation has come upon us since we decided for me to come back to Boulder to take care of my mother, he put everything in motion to be here on March 22nd.

With this news, I try taking the break a little more seriously and making a better attempt at using the crutches. I can’t do it. Both of my shoulders are weak, and the pain is just too great, as well as a consistent feeling I’m about to fall and break something else.

This is a large orthopedic practice, and they have a medical supply department. I decided to rent two scooters, one for upstairs and one for the basement until this is over. While they are better than the crutches, I still preferred to just walk on the ankle. There was no pain, and what more damage could I possibly do?

On March 23rd the surgery was successful and along with my titanium knee, I now have a titanium plate as well as ten titanium screws. We were informed at the hospital that under no circumstances was I to put any weight on my left leg.

In the car, I said to Darrell, “How in the hell am I supposed to go to the bathroom? That scooter is never going to fit in there. What I’m supposed to crawl on my knees? How do I lift myself up? How do I get on the toilet?”

Darrell’s response, “You are going to have to figure it out. You can’t step on that leg.”

The time had come for me to get into the bathroom. Looking at the doorway and the scooter, I came to the deduction the only way to make this work is to back the scooter in. My backing-up skills in the car aren’t that great, but this is the only option I have.

Trying to back up straight, I’m too close to the door and hit the wall. I pull ahead and straighten out the scooter, this time I make it in with about two inches to spare on each side. I back up to the toilet, lift the lid and easily sit down. On my way back up, I press on the thirty-inch vanity, grab the towel rack and propel myself up with my knee back on the scooter and my foot never touching the floor. Success!

With my stitches being taken out on April 3rd, I was finally allowed to take a shower. Since my backing-up skills have improved, with my boot removed, I back my little scooter right up to the base of the shower. I step into the shower with my right leg and carefully bring in my left leg. I had been given permission to stand on it while in the shower.

Once I finished my shower, I opened the door, there was my scooter which I immediately put my left knee on and scooted out.

The little bathroom that for fifty-eight years has been the butt of many jokes and we have been trying to figure out how to make it bigger came to the rescue. In the end, it’s just the right size.