Two simple words — thank you — are often the most difficult to say. When someone compliments an item of our clothing, it is rare for us to just say, “Thank you.”

Much more common is, “Oh, this old thing?” or “I got it on sale.”

We sometimes have to practice saying, “Thank you!” Period.

A friend and I have a running joke about this and when one of us does something nice for the other and the recipient starts to say, “Oh, you shouldn’t have…” the giver of the gift will say, “Read my lips! Thank you very much.”

Thanking a person who has gone above and beyond for you is even harder. How do you thank a doctor who has saved your life? A simple thank you doesn’t seem enough. You want to pour out your heart in gratitude but then, when you try, you may feel awkward and end up never thanking them at all.

A bouquet of flowers or a box of candy for a nurse who has seen you through difficult nights is always welcome, but a simple note of thanks may be treasured by that nurse long after the flowers have wilted and the candy has ruined a diet.

Dealing with cancer or other tragedies is difficult for everyone involved. Seeing the fear and pain experienced by many patients causes our closest friends and relatives to recall that they would have gladly changed places with us, taken our burdens away, and undergone the treatments for us, but that was not to be.

Still, those people held our hands, camped out in hospital waiting rooms, drove us to doctors’ appointments and treatments, and listened to us when we were angry, sad, or just plain frustrated. We owe them some words of thanks. By writing to them, we, too, will continue to heal.

I remember seeing the sadness in my husband’s eyes just before I went into surgery the first time. Clearly, he would have taken my place. He was there for me then and is still here for me every day.

How can I reduce the most important relationship in my life to a few words?

Bob is my husband, my lover, my friend, my personal pilot, and fellow traveler on journeys to Austria’s highest mountains and to trails in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. He is my inspiration and the reason behind my academic or career successes.

How do I love him? I can’t begin to count the ways. But when I got cancer, he became more than the sum of his parts.

Dear Bob,

Without your help and support during my surgeries, (nine and counting now) I know I wouldn’t have gotten well so quickly. You were there to cheer me up when I was blue, hear me out when I was frustrated, and calm me down when every little ache and pain seemed to tell me my cancer was back. You knew just how long to let me wallow and just when to say, “Okay, get in the car; we’re going to Starbucks!”

You always made me feel desirable even when I felt ugly and, best of all, you never discounted my feelings when I wanted plastic surgery to make me feel whole again. You assured me that I was fine just as I was and you’d always love me, but if I wanted the surgery you would support that decision, too.

You were my advocate, my advisor, and my rock. Thank you.

I’ll love you forever,

Julie

Julie Davey from Writing for Wellness: A Prescription for Healing