Several times a day, seemingly at random, my wife and I tell each other, “I love you.” We have found it a gift that blesses the giver as much as the recipient, and it still feels good after fifty-two years of marriage. I’ll admit, there are days when it’s hard work, and the only way to get the words out is through gritted teeth, but we still practice it. The reason is unexpected.

As a vascular surgeon, one of my responsibilities was the evaluation of patients following a stroke to determine whether their risk of another stroke could be reduced with a surgical procedure.

While the presentation of a stroke can be widely variable, injuries involving the speech center of the brain may result in symptoms ranging from mild temporary slurring of words to a devastating total loss of speech.

 On infrequent occasions, I met stroke victims who retained one last word. Like communicating with a one-year-old, this resulted in enormous frustration for everyone. When the patient’s family provided the history, one thing stood out. Almost invariably, they reported that the stroke victim’s last word was the word they had used most habitually over the years. Although I didn’t keep a scientific tally, the word well in first place was “No.” Following this came a four-letter word starting with S, and in third place, a four-letter word beginning with F, which could be startling coming from a little old lady. Trailing in fourth place was “Yes,” and then there were those rare individuals who, in response to every question, uttered a four-letter word beginning with L. “Love… love… love.”

I’ll admit to an undercurrent of unease while pondering this during that state of semi-lucid honesty that roams my conscience in the wee hours of the night. What if I were entrusted to choose a word that must bear the burden of all my needs, desires, and emotions? What if this word must be the one I use most? What would it be?