How Breaking My Ankle Helped Me Learn About Accessibility Challenges

Over the span of a decade, I’ve broken my ankles six times. Each instance brought its own pain and inconvenience, but one experience during my college years in Nebraska forever changed how I view accessibility. That snowy winter, I broke my right ankle while stepping into snow outside my apartment building. It was a seemingly minor action that had significant consequences, not just physically but also in how I began to understand the barriers people with disabilities face daily.

Navigating Life with a Broken Ankle

At the time, I was a college student living alone on the second floor of an apartment building without an elevator. My days revolved around classes, my part-time jobs, and taking care of my aging dog who needed to be walked three times a day. Breaking my ankle upended all of this. It wasn’t just about the pain—it was about the sudden limitations that made even basic activities feel insurmountable.

For context, this was before the convenience of food delivery apps like Uber Eats. Groceries, meals, and errands required physical trips, often involving snow-covered sidewalks and stairs. Driving was impossible with a book on my right leg, and my reliance on a car to commute to campus and work became an immediate problem. I had to quit my job as a bartender since it required long hours of standing and quick movements. Fortunately, I had another part-time role as a newspaper writer that allowed me to work remotely. Even then, I was acutely aware that not everyone in my situation could afford the option to stop working at a physical job.

Small Solutions, Big Impacts

I had broken my ankle before, so I knew crutches were not a viable option, especially in the icy Nebraska winter. Instead, I found a knee scooter with a padded platform to rest my injured leg while propelling myself forward with my good leg. This device was a lifesaver. It allowed me to navigate snowy terrain, attend classes, and maintain a semblance of mobility that crutches couldn’t offer.

My campus was generally accessible, with ramps, elevators, and wide walkways. However, the challenges didn’t end there. I had to rely on friends to drive me to class, walk my dog, and help with errands. Despite being granted a temporary handicap parking permit, I quickly realized how limited accessible parking spots were during peak hours.

A Sudden Shift in Perspective

Being forced into temporary immobility opened my eyes to the importance of accessible infrastructure—and the gaps that still exist. While my college campus was well-equipped to handle mobility needs, other establishments were not. Certain activities and venues became entirely off-limits. Stairs, narrow doorways, and poorly maintained sidewalks turned into insurmountable barriers.

The scooter I used was fantastic for snowy paths, but I often found myself wondering, What if this technology didn’t exist? Or worse, What if I couldn’t afford it? The stark reality is that many people in similar situations don’t have the same resources or support network. For me, relying on friends was an inconvenience. For someone else, it could mean the difference between maintaining independence and losing it altogether.

Lessons on Accessibility

This experience taught me several critical lessons about accessibility:

1. -Accessibility is situational.
   I had a temporary disability, yet it was enough to highlight just how many everyday activities are designed without consideration for people with mobility issues.

2. -Infrastructure matters.
   Accessible infrastructure—like ramps, elevators, and parking spaces—can make or break someone’s ability to participate in society.

3. -Technology and tools are invaluable.
   Devices like knee scooters and mobility aids can drastically improve quality of life, but they must be affordable and available to those who need them.

4. -Support networks are critical.
   I was fortunate to have friends who could step in and help with tasks I couldn’t manage. Not everyone has this kind of support system.

Bridging the Gap

Today, I see my temporary disability as a gift in disguise. It forced me to confront the reality of living in a world where many spaces are still inaccessible to people with disabilities. It also sparked a deep empathy for those who navigate these challenges every day.

True accessibility means creating environments where everyone, regardless of ability, can thrive independently and with dignity. It’s not just about checking boxes on a compliance form—it’s about designing a world where barriers are removed and inclusion is the norm.

Breaking my ankle six times may not be something I’d recommend, but it certainly taught me to see the world differently. If even a fraction of my experience can help others understand the importance of accessibility, then perhaps those broken bones served a greater purpose.