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Rear Window
Date: 3/4/2017, Categories: First Time Shemales, Author: nikkiesilk
... room. The big feature was floor to ceiling windows in the living room which looked out over a shared landscaped courtyard. Perfect, aside from the fact there was no lift. I was discharged from hospital a week after surgery; they needed the bed space apparently. I had a surgical boot for the Achilles rupture, a plaster cast for the fracture and an arm sling for the collarbone. All in all, a class one screw up. After some wrangling between my solicitors, my company and the health insurers, it was agreed that I could get a live in carer and physiother****t for the two months recuperation I would need. The insurance was trying to claim the accident had been my fault but the witness statement together with the police report finally absolved me of all blame. My parents had emigrated to Australia about five years previously so there was going to be no help from them. Mum did offer to fly back over, but Dad hadn’t been well recently so I told her that she should stay out there to look after him. My s****r, Mandy, a research biologist was halfway up the Wazoo, or some such river in the Amazon, so no help there either. I didn’t have a girlfriend to call on as I had discovered my last one cheating on me with her personal trainer. There was an old girlfriend who had offered to pop in to keep me company from time to time but that was as far as it went. There were mates, of course, but they were worse than useless when it came to providing help. So, it was going to be me and my live in ...
... carer stroke cook stroke physio for the next couple of months. The hospital sent me home in an ambulance and the paramedics, bless them, managed to carry me up the stairs on one of those chair thingys they have for such occasions. I had been given a wheelchair, and a commode chair, God forbid My carer was due to arrive at lunchtime and precisely at 1200 there was a call on the intercom. I buzzed him in and several minutes later there was a knock on the door and I managed painfully to wheel myself to the door and open it. Standing outside was a weedy looking guy with his hair in a pony tail and a couple of large suitcases. ‘Hi, I’m Paul, I’m your live in.’ ‘Oh. Right, I’m Jeff, pleased to meet you.’ We shook hands and I guess I was a bit underwhelmed by him. He looked a bit puny for the task of hauling me around for the next few weeks. Although I had already seen in hospital how much a tiny Filipino nurse could lift with the right technique. He had just hauled two heavy suitcases up four flights of stairs and he didn’t seem out of breath, so I guess that boded well. Paul immediately took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed me back into the flat before retrieving his suitcases. ‘That’s a lot to bring, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Just a few things for the next couple of months,’ he replied, ‘it saves me having to go back for stuff.’ Fair enough, I thought. I showed him the spare bedroom which was only just smaller than mine. I had commissioned an interior designer mate of mine to ...