That’s what AI said too! Not the spitballing part. It was just Aing.
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I have a new recliner, about two months old. I pushed myself back so far that it tipped backwards onto the floor and my legs were straight up in the air. I had to yell at DH from the kitchen and got the Aussies barking to help me but he couldn’t pull me up so I had to roll out of it onto the floor. I cannot stand up when I’m down.
Had to call 911. So three strong men showed up and one of them got behind me and magically lifted me onto my legs. I got back to said chair. They took my vitals, offered to take me to the ER, the whole nine yards…
Humiliation 101.
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I can understand feeling that way, but please know that they go on a ton of calls like this. Many assisted living places have a “no lift” policy and call 911 every single time someone needs to be lifted off the floor or assisted with moving. It happens. 
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My own private hotel room when possible and not ridiculously expensive 
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I had my own little villa in Hawaii , while my 65 yo cousin, her husband, SIL and best friend shared a 2 bedroom villa. If I’m travelling that far, and spending that much on travel, I want a bed of my own and my own bathroom.
I had shared a lot of double and queen beds with cousins and aunts up until that trip in 2019 
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I shared a villa with 7 women in Italy in 2017, and did a weekend trip with 9 others in an AirBnB the same year. I don’t really enjoy sharing condos or rooms with acquaintances. Ear plugs are a must.
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They are the reason our very nighttime-vocal cat is still alive/a family member.
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The house I grew up in was on a large, heavily treed (as in forest) lot, and had a swimming pool. The first time my dad found food floating in the pool, he was puzzled. Smart little me figured it out. It was our garbage-can raiding little friend Freddy Raccoon, who was using the pool like a stream to wet his meal. (we also had an acorn-loving Freddy Squirrel — probably a bunch of both kinds of Freddies — and Mr. Snake, who evidently enjoyed the pool, too, until Dad collected him in the pool skimming net and tossed him over the back fence). I think the way we finally thwarted Freddy Raccoon’s snacking was by getting garbage cans with lids that attached to the handles with strong springs and hooks. We had private garbage pick-up — too far out for any municipal services — so there were no regs for types of garbage cans we could use.
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As I age, a lot of “it” happens to me. They were very kind, but I’m still cringing.
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A raccoon story:
We lived in a semi-rural hill area. Lots of forest and the wildlife consisted of deer, opossum, skunk, garter snakes, birds, a few stray cats and raccoons. One summer, mother thought she’d feed the raccoons dog kibble. Who knows where this idea came from, but it quickly became a 50# bag a week kibble habit for 18 or so of them. The numbers started growing and naturally their hunger increased. One early morning at 2 am, while foraging for grubs and such on the roof, one broke through the conduit sleeve for the burglar alarm and set it off. No more feeding the critters after that!
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This is part of our life as we age. My knees, feet, and back are no longer what they were (not that they were ever great to begin with) and I feel even older getting out of bed sometimes.
No reason to be embarrassed. Asking for help is OK.
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I’m still mortified. Our small town has awesome police and emergency services. That young man got behind me on the floor, put his arms under mine and magically lifted me to my feet like a puppet.
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I think any of us who’ve been in situations that required some sort of professional help (including hospital stays, etc.) are familiar with the feeling kids call ‘cringe’ these days.
Being naked and vulnerable in front of a cadre of doctors comes to mind.
We’re all just humans with human problems. We should at least try not to be embarrassed about that plain fact.
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Big hugs for that. I spent 7 long days in a teaching hospital in Boston a number of years ago. Nothing like a committee waking you up and all of them taking a poke at you under the sheets. But this time I was in my own home minding my own business and couldn’t get out of my freaking chair.
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We had a similar situation a few weeks ago. Not sure if mom fell out of bed or just fell when she got up. Anyway. I couldn’t get her up so I called for help. The EMS guys were very friendly and seemed like they had done this more than once (as you say, they are adept at the move). Got her up and walking to a chair, did the vitals, offered transport to the ER, complimented her on being in such good shape at 95 and told me not to hesitate calling them in the future should it happen again. If she was embarrassed she didn’t say so–she was too grateful that they didn’t insist on a trip to the ER!
I’ll paraphrase my late father here: Getting old is awful, but what’s the alternative?
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I don’t know if this story will make you feel better or just sympathetic but here goes: I was at my allergist office and there was an older gentleman there brought in on a gurney by first responders. Evidently this is how they routinely transport folks from assisted living for their appointments.
While we were all in the waiting room one of the paramedics leaned over to him and asked, “Sir, did they put you in a brief?”
“A what?”
[Louder] “A brief? Did they put you in a brief, sir?”
“A what now?!”
[Shouting] “A diaper, sir, did they put you in a diaper?”
“Oh, yes”
[still shouting] "I’m glad, sir, because otherwise that would be bad news bears!’
Everyone was doing their best. I just smiled and handed the elder a lollipop from the front desk on my way out. Parts of getting old suck.
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I’m 72. One of the EMT’s had an iPad and recorded everything. Wanted to know if I hit my head, if I wanted to go to the ER, made me sign a disclaimer that I didn’t want transfer. I just needed my legs back. Maybe I need one of those call buttons like my 92-year-old mother has. I’m glad your Mom is ok. I worry about mine, still living solo in her home and driving in Columbus, OH. She can do more than I’m capable of on. my own.
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Well I’m just glad you’re ok and didn’t hit your head or need a transport. And glad your mom is still getting along well. (I revoked mom’s driving privileges a few years ago, but I don’t think she’s forgiven me for that yet.)
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That’s sad, but very funny, I’ve been on many gurneys to the ER - I won’t relate the embarrassments. I’ve had bad luck with my health in the past decade or so. But like I said, this episode was astonishing. I’ve never been handicapped by a piece of furniture before.
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My granddad used to say “Growing old ain’t a picnic.”
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I splurged on 3 pairs of nice ear plugs this year! I had been using foam earplugs from the drugstore or the airplane, until my purchase.
IDK if my PIC still snores, bc I now often fall asleep before him. I do know that we both tend to snore after a night of drinking (perhaps no surprise).
The greatest discovery for us to eliminate any outside or inside noise (snoring, the f’n cat howling for no GD good reason, recycling being picked up at the crack of dawn, et al) was downloading a simple, free white noise app.
I don’t like stuff in my ears.
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