Valentines Day in bed

My husband and I have never done much for Valentines Day.

We met when he was in grad school in syracuse, New York, and I in New Haven, Connecticut, and shortly afterward I was teaching in Michigan while he continued in grad school. We saw each other weekends, Christmas break and summers. The third year he came to visit me for Christmas-- and at the New Year fell awfully ill with a kidney problem called minimal change disease. He stayed with me because he needed continuing care.

Treatment involved bed rest, large doses of Prednisone, and because of the Prednisone a diuretic and a high-calorie, high-protein, high-potassium, low salt diet. I surrounded him with a wall of food before I went off to teach in the mornings, and when we went to sleep at night, since he would wake ravenous.

Despite his illness and his concerns about the debt we needed to rack up for his medical care-- he had no health insurance-- and his graduate work, we were happy. It was so very good to be able to be together for months, to hear each other breathe, to touch each other, to talk or just hang out.