11 years ago I spent a lot of time in Longmont, Colorado. The company I was consulting for wanted me there every week, so I rented a house in a nice neighborhood. Frankly, I hated the place, the area in general. People there were unjustly proud that one could see the front range of the Rockies off in the distance. It was flat, crowded and in the summer miserably hot. My home in Montana is a thousand feet higher, right in the middle of the mountains, and a hot day is 85, cooling to 50 at night.
I flew home often, just to escape. Maintaining two residences made the gig almost not worth it.
Anyway, one evening in the summer I was there. It was hot, over 90f at 10pm. The house had a swamp cooler in the living room that did little to mitigate the heat. A family trait is that neither I nor my kids can tolerate heat, anything over 75 is uncomfortable.
I am getting to the point of this, albeit slowly.
This particular evening I took a cold shower, a couple times. It worked for several minutes afterward, especially if I didn't towel off afterwards, evaporation and all that.
The house had hardwood floors.
As I walked, barefoot from the bathroom down the hall I turned a corner, my feet slipped, down I went, hearing a loud 'pop' as I fell. I lay a moment, I knew I had done something, but tried to get up. When I put weight on my left foot down I went again. I looked down, seeing a shard of bone sticking out of the skin. I clearly remember thinking "bummer"....
Did I mention I was unclothed?
I crawled on the floor to the table in the living room where my phone was and dialed 911. I told them the situation, they said they were sending someone immediately. As I lay there, in retrospect going into shock, I called 911 again. The woman explained someone was on the way. I said "Listen, there's another thing. I'm naked." A short silence ensued. "Oh?" she said. "Yes, I had just got out of the shower." I explained. "Uh huh, ok." she said.
I managed to reach a navajo blanket on the sofa and pulled it over me. A few minutes later I saw flashing light reflected on the ceiling, and somehow they got in the locked door in seconds. Two women paramedics entered, followed by two male firemen. I apologized to the paramedics for my unclothed state. As they examined my ankle one said "Sir, we've seen everything. This is nothing special."
Quickly they had me on a gurney and out the door. Outside there was the ambulance and two fire trucks, and several people milling about. They had an IV in me and fluid going within a minute, and off we went to the hospital.
Turns out in addition to the compound fracture I had completely torn and separated all the ligaments in my ankle. The surgery took 8 hours.
The Fibula repair was the easiest part of the surgery; a stabilizing plate and and half dozen screws were put in. The ortho cutter said the ligament repair was one of the hardest procedures he'd ever done.
It was nearly 6 months before I got rid of the crutches. A decade later my walking is limited to a mile at the most. I can still wade in a river and fish, so there's that.