EDITOR'S NOTE: It is with a mixture of sadness and rejoicing that we wish Grandma Connie a delightful journey back to her Heavenly Home where she will be encircled by those who have gone on before her. She will always be in our hearts and we will relish her lovely stories. Bon Voyage and hold a spot for us, Grandma Connie Ebbert!
Sometimes Grandma is Up—other times she is simply Upside-down
By Grandma Connie, Reader/Contributor
It's easy, when someone tells a story, to think, "Oh, we've all been there!" Not so much this time! This is a terrific story from a woman who can now laugh about it.
Me and my "garden walker."
My most embarrassing moment happened while I was attempting to help my husband, George. We have a long row containing four raised-bed mini-gardens, immediately followed by a couple rows of blackberry vines in our back yard. We work in those little garden boxes each day the weather permits. This day we were cleaning up weed debris from box number three. As we were working, I happened to look up and notice a healthy looking clump of weeds we had missed pulling on the far side of the box number four. I decided to go around and get rid of it while I could still remember where it was.
Normally, whenever I am out in the yard, I walk hanging onto our manual wheelchair to help me keep my balance. Rather than wasting all that energy pushing the wheelchair; I just hopped on George’s battery powered scooter instead. I was taken by surprise when I barely pressed the lever and the scooter took off like a shot, whizzing down past box number four. Before I even had time to think, I careened around the blackberries. It so surprised me that while I was distracted, trying to figure out how to slow his vehicle down, I guess I wasn’t watching closely enough to where I was actually heading. All I could think about was the fact that it was jarring my bones and probably loosening my teeth as it went bumping across that rough ground.
Normally, whenever I am out in the yard, I walk hanging onto our manual wheelchair to help me keep my balance. Rather than wasting all that energy pushing the wheelchair; I just hopped on George’s battery powered scooter instead. I was taken by surprise when I barely pressed the lever and the scooter took off like a shot, whizzing down past box number four. Before I even had time to think, I careened around the blackberries. It so surprised me that while I was distracted, trying to figure out how to slow his vehicle down, I guess I wasn’t watching closely enough to where I was actually heading. All I could think about was the fact that it was jarring my bones and probably loosening my teeth as it went bumping across that rough ground.
This is where my world went topsy turvey. My Daughter has since weeded it a bit and endeavored to fill in the rut that caused the entire episode that day.
The next thing I knew, I was flopped on my belly across the little mound of dirt covering the septic tank with the scooter on top of my legs. In my distracted state of mind, I must have let his machine get too close to the dip surrounding the mound and gotten thrown off. As if being unceremoniously dumped off the scooter weren’t enough difficulties for one day, here I lay, face down in the middle of a huge, knee-high clump of George’s winter onions and weeds with my feet and legs tangled up and pinned under the scooter. I was soon to discover all those weeds and onions were not alone with me on top of the septic tank. I had also landed smack dab on top of a huge aunt hill.
Once I caught my breath and thought about it, I realized I was not hurt, so I decided not to panic. That established, I started trying to get out of this mess without calling George, as I was pretty sure he would tease me later if he saw me. I struggled for a couple of minutes before I realized, I would not be able to get out of this little mishap alone. I found I couldn’t even turn over, let alone get the heavy scooter off my legs without some assistance.
I began to yell for George. It took a few more minutes for him to hear me bellowing, since he had forgotten to put in his hearing aids that morning. Further complicating matters, I suppose, was the fact that he couldn’t see me lying on the ground with the tall blackberry vines blocking his view of where I lay stranded.
He later shared that, once he heard me; he started looking around for his scooter. He was surprised that it was no longer where it had been parked. This gave him quite a start. He thought maybe he was losing his memory and had forgotten where he had left the thing. He just couldn’t imagine I would have taken off on it. I had staunchly refused to use one of those crazy machines because they just bump me around on this rough ground and jar my insides too badly.
Once I caught my breath and thought about it, I realized I was not hurt, so I decided not to panic. That established, I started trying to get out of this mess without calling George, as I was pretty sure he would tease me later if he saw me. I struggled for a couple of minutes before I realized, I would not be able to get out of this little mishap alone. I found I couldn’t even turn over, let alone get the heavy scooter off my legs without some assistance.
I began to yell for George. It took a few more minutes for him to hear me bellowing, since he had forgotten to put in his hearing aids that morning. Further complicating matters, I suppose, was the fact that he couldn’t see me lying on the ground with the tall blackberry vines blocking his view of where I lay stranded.
He later shared that, once he heard me; he started looking around for his scooter. He was surprised that it was no longer where it had been parked. This gave him quite a start. He thought maybe he was losing his memory and had forgotten where he had left the thing. He just couldn’t imagine I would have taken off on it. I had staunchly refused to use one of those crazy machines because they just bump me around on this rough ground and jar my insides too badly.
Hearing me continue to yell, he went on and grabbed my old wheelchair and headed down the row past the four long garden boxes and ‘round the rows of blackberries to find out what all of the ruckus was about.
I must have been quite a sight, because from the corner of my eye, I saw him pause for a second and stare at the scene before him as I came into his view.
I must have been quite a sight, because from the corner of my eye, I saw him pause for a second and stare at the scene before him as I came into his view.
I guess I did look pretty strange, lying there with my fanny in the air, with the scooter upside-down on top of me, yelling as loud as I could with a bunch of smelly green onions and weeds in my face.
He rushed to assist me. At 77 and 87 years of age, we are not what you would call spring chickens anymore. Consequently, we can no longer do things requiring lots of muscle power as easily as we once did. After much huffing and puffing, George finally got the scooter off my feet and legs. We tried several different times and ways, but could not figure out how to get me up from where I had finally managed to rollover onto my back, without running the risk of him falling over on top of me as well. We debated about calling a couple of men from church, but figured that was more embarrassing than just calling 9-1-1. But, I made him promise to tell them I was fine and just needed help getting to my feet. He assured me he would and took off toward the house on the now upright scooter. I resigned myself to waiting for stronger, younger help to arrive.
He rushed to assist me. At 77 and 87 years of age, we are not what you would call spring chickens anymore. Consequently, we can no longer do things requiring lots of muscle power as easily as we once did. After much huffing and puffing, George finally got the scooter off my feet and legs. We tried several different times and ways, but could not figure out how to get me up from where I had finally managed to rollover onto my back, without running the risk of him falling over on top of me as well. We debated about calling a couple of men from church, but figured that was more embarrassing than just calling 9-1-1. But, I made him promise to tell them I was fine and just needed help getting to my feet. He assured me he would and took off toward the house on the now upright scooter. I resigned myself to waiting for stronger, younger help to arrive.
Ants and onions that still reside over our septic tank.
It wasn't long before some friendly ants decided to investigate to see what all the commotion at their front door was about. Feeling them on me, I started looking around and discovered to my horror I was sitting right on top of their hill. Sure I must be a gift of food from the gods; they apparently called their buddies to assist in the hunting and gathering and began swarming up my arms towards my face. This was a situation that was unbearable, to my way of thinking. I was now motivated to try sitting up while I waited. I didn’t want to look any more like a beached whale than I had to when the rescue people got there anyway. Upon returning, still talking to the emergency services on the phone, George, saw me struggling. He laid the phone down and helped me. Together we at least managed to get me in a sitting position and began brushing ants off my arms and upper body.
Now sitting up, I could tell my rear was wedged firmly down in the very same dip that had toppled the scooter. I used all my strength to scoot up to the top of the little ditch and maneuver myself further from the onions and ants. I succeeded in getting myself out of that little hole. Unfortunately, however, my elastic-waisted pants stayed where they had been sitting, and had slipped all the way past the curve of my back side almost to my thighs.
There I sat, with my bright white panties showing for all the ants and world to see. Luckily, we live a few miles out in the country and there were no neighbors close enough to witness that specific detail of my dilemma. Additionally, since it would be a couple more minutes before the first-responders could arrive, that left me time to figure out how to get my pants at least covering the biggest part of my panties, before they could see too much of my underwear. I proceeded to wiggle and squirm as best I could, while George and I both tugged and pulled upwards on the waist of my pants. Eventually we got them up enough that I felt respectably clad.
Soon an ambulance came screeching into our driveway and across the yard with lights and sirens blaring! Goodness! Can’t they leave an old woman a little dignity by just quietly coming to stuff like this in an unmarked vehicle, or at least with no lights flashing? I turned to accuse him of not telling them I was okay; but George rushed to assure me he had told them I simply needed help getting off the septic tank and was not hurt at all. Maybe in the future they could form a special force for situations like mine and call it the “senior service squad” or something.
Now sitting up, I could tell my rear was wedged firmly down in the very same dip that had toppled the scooter. I used all my strength to scoot up to the top of the little ditch and maneuver myself further from the onions and ants. I succeeded in getting myself out of that little hole. Unfortunately, however, my elastic-waisted pants stayed where they had been sitting, and had slipped all the way past the curve of my back side almost to my thighs.
There I sat, with my bright white panties showing for all the ants and world to see. Luckily, we live a few miles out in the country and there were no neighbors close enough to witness that specific detail of my dilemma. Additionally, since it would be a couple more minutes before the first-responders could arrive, that left me time to figure out how to get my pants at least covering the biggest part of my panties, before they could see too much of my underwear. I proceeded to wiggle and squirm as best I could, while George and I both tugged and pulled upwards on the waist of my pants. Eventually we got them up enough that I felt respectably clad.
Soon an ambulance came screeching into our driveway and across the yard with lights and sirens blaring! Goodness! Can’t they leave an old woman a little dignity by just quietly coming to stuff like this in an unmarked vehicle, or at least with no lights flashing? I turned to accuse him of not telling them I was okay; but George rushed to assure me he had told them I simply needed help getting off the septic tank and was not hurt at all. Maybe in the future they could form a special force for situations like mine and call it the “senior service squad” or something.
Despite their lights and noise they were real sweet, strong boys, and I was tremendously grateful they took the trouble to come. I have never felt so relieved to get off the ground in all my life! One boy got on one side of me and another got me under the other arm and just lifted. Vvwwp, up I came, like I was nothing more than a feather to them. I was so glad to be right-side up once again and getting away from the onions and anthill.
I had begun to notice that the ants had found a new port of entry to my person—right up my pant legs. As those boys balanced me and got me off the septic tank and away from the dip around it, George slid the wheelchair up behind me and I sat down.
Despite my great relief and gratitude to my rescuers, I was horribly embarrassed for all the trouble I had caused everyone. I was also understandably anxious for that big old ambulance, with its lights still flashing, to be gone, before it attracted the gaze of all who passed by. But to my vexation those nice boys insisted they had to take my vitals before they could leave. Other than being profoundly humbled by my experience, I insisted I was just fine.
The real reason I didn’t want them to put that blood pressure cuff on me was because I was a bit afraid that my blood pressure would, by that time, be sky high. Not from the heat or even the spill I had taken and the subsequent struggles to get up. Rather, from the ants now crawling all over my legs under my britches. Those sweet boys absolutely wouldn’t take my word for it, however.
Finally, in desperation, I just let them do what they wanted, in order to get them to shut off those wildly flashing lights and leave. I needed to get to the house and get the ants out of my pants before they found entry to my panties as well. Plus, I knew if they didn’t leave soon one of my neighbors would notice the ambulance in my backyard and report it to my daughter-in-law at work, or worse yet, call my daughter who lived across the yard from me, but was gone on vacation right then. Then those girls would fuss over me for being too feeble to be trusted outside when they weren't close by. They tended to worry and fuss too much as it was, and I certainly didn’t want to add fuel to that fire.
After taking my blood pressure and declaring it in a safe range; my rescuers, at long last, shut off their emergency lights. Before they left, they thanked me for inviting them out to help, as if I had invited them to tea or something. It seems in the small quiet town where they were stationed, they were frequently bored and I had broken up a long day for them. I guess I was glad to help. By now, I was struggling not to squirm noticeably, as I discreetly tried to stop the upwards flow of ants.
Those boys went on to tell us they were always happy to come out for seniors like us. They would rather do that than have anyone straining to get up, taking the chance of being injured worse in the process. It seems seniors often hurt themselves worse trying to get up after a fall than from the fall itself. I quickly assured them I would remember that, if, I ever found myself upside down across the septic tank again.
Spotting the little dance I was struggling not to do in the chair, one boy suddenly eyed me closely, asking if I was absolutely sure I didn’t want to go to the hospital to be checked out. I replied, I was positive, but that I had been outside for quite a bit and needed to use the restroom. That did the trick! Those boys couldn’t take their leave fast enough after that.
As I hurried to the house to get in the shower and wash those pesky ants down the drain I made mental note: if I ever need young men to leave me alone, all I had to do was tell them I needed to go potty.
For days after that episode, I tried to persuade George to mow off those onions and weeds. But he just smiled and pointed out he really should leave all the weeds and grass there, just in case I decide to go for another joy-ride with his scooter. They would help me see where I need to avoid going next time. He claims if he mows that area he will have to mark it somehow: maybe by putting up a sign that reads “The grass is always greener with grandma over the septic tank." Or maybe," he says with a twinkle in his eyes, he will install a motion activated song playing "over the tank and through the vines to grandmother’s house we go,” to the Christmas tune of: Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go. He is just ornery enough to do it, too!
Needless to say, I just let those onions, weeds and the ants stay exactly where they were, rather than have a sign or music memorializing my most embarrassing moment.
There was an upside to that day. I had expected I would be black and blue and sore as the devil the next day; but other than a little bruise on places better left unnamed, I am just fine.
In fact, there was one big blessing from the entire episode. My back, which had been hurting me pretty badly for the previous three weeks, was just fine after that. My spill seemed to have knocked whatever was out, back in. I guess it’s true what they say about God looking after babies and old people.
I had begun to notice that the ants had found a new port of entry to my person—right up my pant legs. As those boys balanced me and got me off the septic tank and away from the dip around it, George slid the wheelchair up behind me and I sat down.
Despite my great relief and gratitude to my rescuers, I was horribly embarrassed for all the trouble I had caused everyone. I was also understandably anxious for that big old ambulance, with its lights still flashing, to be gone, before it attracted the gaze of all who passed by. But to my vexation those nice boys insisted they had to take my vitals before they could leave. Other than being profoundly humbled by my experience, I insisted I was just fine.
The real reason I didn’t want them to put that blood pressure cuff on me was because I was a bit afraid that my blood pressure would, by that time, be sky high. Not from the heat or even the spill I had taken and the subsequent struggles to get up. Rather, from the ants now crawling all over my legs under my britches. Those sweet boys absolutely wouldn’t take my word for it, however.
Finally, in desperation, I just let them do what they wanted, in order to get them to shut off those wildly flashing lights and leave. I needed to get to the house and get the ants out of my pants before they found entry to my panties as well. Plus, I knew if they didn’t leave soon one of my neighbors would notice the ambulance in my backyard and report it to my daughter-in-law at work, or worse yet, call my daughter who lived across the yard from me, but was gone on vacation right then. Then those girls would fuss over me for being too feeble to be trusted outside when they weren't close by. They tended to worry and fuss too much as it was, and I certainly didn’t want to add fuel to that fire.
After taking my blood pressure and declaring it in a safe range; my rescuers, at long last, shut off their emergency lights. Before they left, they thanked me for inviting them out to help, as if I had invited them to tea or something. It seems in the small quiet town where they were stationed, they were frequently bored and I had broken up a long day for them. I guess I was glad to help. By now, I was struggling not to squirm noticeably, as I discreetly tried to stop the upwards flow of ants.
Those boys went on to tell us they were always happy to come out for seniors like us. They would rather do that than have anyone straining to get up, taking the chance of being injured worse in the process. It seems seniors often hurt themselves worse trying to get up after a fall than from the fall itself. I quickly assured them I would remember that, if, I ever found myself upside down across the septic tank again.
Spotting the little dance I was struggling not to do in the chair, one boy suddenly eyed me closely, asking if I was absolutely sure I didn’t want to go to the hospital to be checked out. I replied, I was positive, but that I had been outside for quite a bit and needed to use the restroom. That did the trick! Those boys couldn’t take their leave fast enough after that.
As I hurried to the house to get in the shower and wash those pesky ants down the drain I made mental note: if I ever need young men to leave me alone, all I had to do was tell them I needed to go potty.
For days after that episode, I tried to persuade George to mow off those onions and weeds. But he just smiled and pointed out he really should leave all the weeds and grass there, just in case I decide to go for another joy-ride with his scooter. They would help me see where I need to avoid going next time. He claims if he mows that area he will have to mark it somehow: maybe by putting up a sign that reads “The grass is always greener with grandma over the septic tank." Or maybe," he says with a twinkle in his eyes, he will install a motion activated song playing "over the tank and through the vines to grandmother’s house we go,” to the Christmas tune of: Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go. He is just ornery enough to do it, too!
Needless to say, I just let those onions, weeds and the ants stay exactly where they were, rather than have a sign or music memorializing my most embarrassing moment.
There was an upside to that day. I had expected I would be black and blue and sore as the devil the next day; but other than a little bruise on places better left unnamed, I am just fine.
In fact, there was one big blessing from the entire episode. My back, which had been hurting me pretty badly for the previous three weeks, was just fine after that. My spill seemed to have knocked whatever was out, back in. I guess it’s true what they say about God looking after babies and old people.
Grandma Connie and George and their sometimes treacherous modes of transportation.
Copyright © 2014 by Rent's Due Publications
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.