Just One Word

All it took for Doris Troy was, “Just One Look,” in the words of the hit song she wrote and sang to the top of the charts in 1963. “Just one look/ That's all it took, yeah /Just one look.” Good and right for her.

But sometimes, in other situations, all it takes is just one word--- one word to change a life forever.

We---my wife Lori and I--- waited for that one word, having been told we would receive the results of Lori’s biopsy between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m., Thursday last week. Actually we had been waiting for over a week, including the time for the scheduling of the biopsy itself and the determination of the results.

Waiting can be an unnerving experience: the human mind is capable of a thousand possibilities, mostly negative, creating one more worst case scenario, allowing our ever imaginative thoughts to wander, recalling people we’ve known somewhere---that one where it so suddenly happened to her, or the other one where he went so fast, or the one where she fought so bravely for so long, and the one that so heavily weighs on you just now, the one you await---yours: “What will the one word be: Benign? Malignant?”

It’s just one word; but what a difference one word can make.

Cancer kills more than 1,500 Americans a day and costs over $200 billion a year in medical bills and lost productivity. In Lori’s case the particular biopsy was for breast cancer, a cancer which about 1 in 8 women will develop in the course of their lifetime. Almost 40,000 women were expected to die from breast cancer in 2010. Only one other cancer, lung cancer, claims the lives of more women in the U.S. You are probably thinking of people’s names as your read those statistics. Maybe they died this last year or perhaps they are battling cancer today. Maybe the name you are thinking of is your own because you are struggling with this disease.

And so Lori and I waited for that word: benign or malignant.

“The word ‘benign’ has to be the most beautiful word in the English language,” one of my friends later declared.

“Then ‘malignant’ has to be the ugliest,” a second quipped.

I know something of that. My first wife, Katri, died of breast cancer after a six year fight with that formidable foe. In her unfortunate case the news came like a terrorist bomb on a peaceful parade, exploding on us as we hypothesized the cause for her mysterious symptoms, scratching our heads, all of us, including doctors---experts looking in the wrong direction, searching for the cause of her pain, examining relentlessly--- until the disease, with a Jared Lee Loughner smirk, proudly exposed its sinister self, and snickering at our surprise, “ha!” went on to announce with warped glee, “Breast cancer it is, fourth stage, metastasized to the bones.” And that was the cause for her pain, a pain among many that would dominate the remaining 6 years of her young life.

And now this day, Lori and I anxiously awaited her test results:

2:30 p.m., “I’m good, how ‘bout you?” I tried to exude confidence.

3’clock: “Half way there, they should call any time now.” I was still attempting to console.

3:30 p.m., “It’s okay, but what’s taking them?” I tried to remain upbeat.

3:45 p.m.: “Maybe you should call and see if they forgot.” Now I was getting aggravated.

3:55 p.m.: “For goodness sakes, what‘s wrong? Just call!” Frustration had found a parking place in my soul.

3:59 p.m.: Finally, the phone rings, Lori answers. My ears are attuned. Life hangs in the balance, “Okay, Yes… Yes…Yes. Thank you. Oh, thank you for the good news!”

“Benign.”

I sigh with relief.

Just one word. A wonderful word. Not malignant. Benign. Praise God!

“The Lord giveth.”

“The Lord taketh away.”

In just one word.

For now, I’ll rejoice in the “giveth” and in that one word: “benign”--- at that moment the most beautiful word I could have heard.

Until it’s time for another test.

But that’s another day.

Life Matters is written by David B.Whitlock, Ph.D. David email is drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. His website is davidbwhitlock.com