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No, it wasn't me this time. It was my mom. She has the symptoms of Crohne's Disease, and yet, they're not. See, she has rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, back surgery 2 years ago, and neck surgery this summer. Why am I telling you all this? I am trying to get you to see what shape my mom was in. Well, we're getting to be regulars with the EMT staff. Before last Friday, they never even heard of us, but now they have two Jones' in their tally books in less than a week. My mom has to use a walker around the house, and it's got a seat and large wheels. Then, a few nights ago, she was sitting on it feeding the family dog and leaned forward. Now, these brakes on the walker are older than Moses, and they were set, but they were of little use to her in this instance. Well, sir, according to my mom, the walker rolled one way and mom fell the direct opposite. We went into first response mode, well, as far as we dare. She asked for a neck pillow, Sara's (our pooch) footstool, and a towel for her knees. After many failed attempts, we got the bright idea to raise her with a car jack. Something was nagging at me, though. Anyhow, ignoring that feeling, we got that heavy-duty jack ready. I don't think we had enough surface area, 2' squared, for mom. Good thing we didn't have to find out. It was decided upon calling 911; again. After the call, I spent my time nervously awaiting the EMT's, hoping they would be different ones. No such luck. Oh, and that little thing I forgot; sliding a board down mom's back. We had done something like that, only with a sheet or plyboard and it almost worked. The sheet of plywood just needed to be more tough and little longer. We also needed more hands. Due to all her problems she claimed to being "dead weight," but she came up rather easily. One of the EMT's recognized me, and then and there, I knew I was busted. He asked about how many stitches they put in while the female EMT was caught up with our Cockatiels. Looks like the Stooges have made a curtain call.