Pat Forget wrote this letter to her husband just before Valentine’s Day in 1997
As Valentine’s Day approaches I recall my life with my husband of almost 25 years. He was my first real boyfriend (and my last). He spent nearly three years convincing me that I should marry him. When I finally decided to accept him we overcame many obstacles to have the “perfect” wedding. He spent a large portion of our first wedding anniversary at my bedside in the hospital, as he had every day for the previous three weeks, and would for the next eight (and would repeat this often). For the next year he put up daily with my excruciating headaches and “morning sickness”.
I recall our camping weekends when he managed to convince me to take time away from my studies geared at re-educating myself to a career a disabled person could manage. I was lucky when he joined my company. He drove me to and from work, and almost carried me upstairs, allowing me to work for at least a year longer than I could have managed using public transit.
When I finally was forced by circumstances to accept the wheelchair I had fought against for so long, he also got a wheelchair so he could dance with me. He was constantly searching for things we could do together, while other husbands pursued “able-bodied” activities, leaving their disabled wives at home.
I think of the ten years he woke every two or three hours night after night to turn me, and of the three nights a week he still does so I can spend a few days at home. I am thankful for the counless times he has fed me, cleaned my teeth, and done other things for me that most men don’t want to think about, never mind do.
We still enjoy being together, and constantly look for new things to do. I made the best decision of my life when I agreed to marry him, and he must be reasonably pleased at his choice because he wants to renew our vows on our silver anniversary in June.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, HONEY