Daughter-in-law Helps Father-in-law
As strange as that my sound, my Daughter-in-law, Jessica, is my home healthcare worker.
My name is Bob. I'm a 62-year-old, elderly man living on my retirement and Social Security. After my son died in a car accident, with her so distraught, I offered his 38-year-old, widowed wife, my daughter-in-law, Jessica, a place to stay. I invited her to live with me.
I have a big house and live alone after my wife of 32-years unexpectedly passed away from a stroke. With her no longer having my son's income, even though she earned good money as a registered nurse, she could no longer afford her condo. If her face is the last face that I'd see, I'd love to awaken and go to bed seeing beautiful Jessica. Of course, I had an alternative motive for her to live with me.
Diagnosed with NPH, normal pressure hydrocephalus, I recently had a shunt installed in my head to drain excess fluid from my brain. Normal pressure hydrocephalus is a condition where cerebrospinal fluid builds up in the brain's ventricles, causing them to enlarge and press against nearby brain tissue. Unfortunately for me, this extra fluid and pressure can lead to brain damage and symptoms, such as trouble walking, poor balance, forgetfulness, and loss of bladder control. If ignored, it could lead to dementia and eventually death.
Every three-months, I needed to return to the hospital for an MRI and discuss if the surgeon could make an adjustment to my shunt to drain more fluid. The more fluid that the shunt drained, the better that I walked. Yet, still confined to a wheelchair, he told me that the third adjustment was the last adjustment that he could do without causing a brain bleed. Something that I needed to live with, never walking again, other than only a few unbalanced steps, at least I was alive.
Embarrassed by my dented head where they did the procedure, I have a collection of baseball caps that I wear every day. As soon as I awaken, I put on my cap. Suddenly feeling a little like Frankenstein, I hate touching it with my fingers.
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With Jessica a registered nurse, I hoped to hire the best help, my daughter-in-law, to get me through my day. With most of home service places not having registered nurses as home healthcare aides, she was easily hired by my local home healthcare company to work on their behalf as their employee. A win/win for all three of us, instead of me having to pay out of pocket to hire an aide from a home healthcare service company, Medicaid paid for that and, the agency paid Jessica's salary.
Moreover, since she'd be living with me, we were approved for 70-hours of homecare each week. At $20 an hour for a registered nurse to work as a home healthcare aide, that was much more than they paid their regular home healthcare workers. Yet, a big pay cut for her, she earned $40 an hour working in a hospital as a registered nurse. The service agency earned more than double what they paid their workers a month.
To make up for her loss of income, I'd be giving her room and board in my beautiful house which was four times the size of her small condo. She normally worked a 60-hour shift and earned $2,400 a week before taxes caring for patients in a hospital. With her working for me 70-hour week for $20, she'd earn $1,400 a week before taxes.
Again, making up for that one-thousand-dollars a week that she'd lose, a huge savings, she wouldn't have to shell out for her mortgage. She wouldn't have to buy food, pay for heat, electricity, and cable. I'd give her whatever else she financial needed. I'd pay for whatever she wanted for her to work for me while caring for me. As a bonus, with me not having any family, I'd leave my house and the rest of my possessions to her when I died.
Saving on car insurance and automobile upkeep, she wouldn't even need a car. With my 2011 Lincoln Town Car, the last of the Lincoln Town Cars, sitting in the garage, and with me unable to drive anymore, she could drive my car instead of her buying another car after my son totaled his SUV. With her accustomed to driving a big SUV, she'd had no problem driving my car.
Glad that I bought the extended wheelbase version of that car, with six more inches of leg room in the backseat and wider rear doors, that was the last factory-built limousine made by any American manufacturer. I can easier fit my folded wheelchair and/or folded rollator in the backseat. Even with all of that in the backseat, I can still stretch out my legs and my feet don't touch the front seat. As far as I'm concerned, the last of the most luxurious American made cars, the Lincoln Town Car is Lincoln's version of a Rolls Royce.
Moreover, with plenty of parts available, the Lincoln Town Car shares the Panther platform with the Ford Crown Victoria, the Mercury Grand Marquis, the Mercury Marauder, and the Ford Mustang. The cars are so dependable that when police departments sell their Crown Vics because of the high mileage, taxi companies buy them to continue driving them for, at least, another 100,000 miles. A very dependable car, the Lincoln Town Cars have gone 300,000 to 500,00 miles on the same engines and transmissions.
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It had been my sexually frustrated fantasy, should I be confined to a nursing home, I could sneak out like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. With my car comfortably fitting five passengers, I could invite five, big breasted, elderly women out for ice cream. With me having a sexual weakness for women with big tits, I love big, breasted women. I imagined making a deal with them.
'Who wants to go for ice cream,' I imagined asking? 'If you show me your tits, we'll sneak out and I'll take you out for ice cream.'
I imagined five, elderly women, those who are unembarrassed and unashamed to show me their naked breasts, showing me their naked tits. I imagined them lifting their tops and lifting their bras to show me their sagging, naked breasts. I imagined the five women happy to receive some sexual attention from a horny, elderly man. I imagined them smiling at me while cupping their naked breasts in their hands and raising them as if daring me to touch them, feel them, and fondle them while sucking their erect nipples.
My one question has always been, after having seen lots of elderly women's naked breasts, why do their breasts look so young? If I had to judge their ages by just seeing their naked breasts, I'd guess that they were 20 or 30 years younger than they are. Their tits still look amazing.
Why do women's breasts not wrinkle like the rest of their bodies? Is it because their breasts aren't exposed to the sun in the way that their faces, necks, legs, and hands are? No matter what their age, from twenty to ninety, I love seeing women's naked tits.
'Show me your tits and we'll go out for ice cream,' I imagined saying to nearly every woman in the nursing home.
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When adding up everything, Jessica would earn more working for me than she would working at the hospital. Instead of her having to shell out money for her monthly expenses, whatever she earned, she'd keep because I'd pay for whatever else she needed. As an extra bonus, I had a screen covered pool for her to enjoy on those hot, steamy, summer, Texas days without her being attacked by giant bugs.
When she's not caring for me, she could sit out by the pool and lounge around, hopefully, in her revealing bikinis. I'd love to see Jessica in her teeny, tiny, barely there yellow, polka dot bikini. I've always liked my daughter-in-law. Actually, I loved my daughter-in-law.
