雙語·當呼吸化為空氣 是文學讓我重獲新生

所以，在這段難熬的時光，是文學讓我重獲新生。關(guān)于未來的那種巨大的不確定感令人死氣沉沉；不管我走到哪里，死亡的陰影都會模糊任何行動的意義。我還記得那豁然開朗的一刻，壓倒一切的不安終于消散，似乎不可逾越的惶恐之海里終于顯現(xiàn)出前進之路。當時的我在疼痛中醒來，又要面對毫無意義的一天，除了吃早餐，我也不知道自己該做什么。我無法前行，我心想，然而心中立刻有聲音附和，完成了這句來自塞繆爾·貝克特的話。這句話我早在多年以前的大學本科時期就讀到了：我仍將前行。我下了床，向前一步，一遍遍重復著完整的句子：“我無法前行。我仍將前行?！?br>And so it was literature that brought me back to life during this time. The monolithic uncertainty of my future was deadening; everywhere I turned, the shadow of death obscured the meaning of any action. I remember the moment when my overwhelming unease yielded, when that seemingly impassable sea of uncertainty parted. I woke up in pain, facing another day—no project beyond breakfast seemed tenable. I can’t go on, I thought, and immediately, its antiphon responded, completing Samuel Beckett’s seven words, words I had learned long ago as an undergraduate: I’ll go on. I got out of bed and took a step forward, repeating the phrase over and over: “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”

那天早上，我做出了一個決定：我要逼迫自己，回歸手術(shù)室。為什么？因為我做得到。因為那就是我。因為我必須學會以不同的方式活著。我會把死神看作一個威風凜凜、不時造訪的貴客，但心里要清楚，即使我是個將死之人，我仍然還活著，直到真正死去的那一刻。
That morning, I made a decision: I would push myself to return to the OR. Why? Because I could. Because that’s who I was. Because I would have to learn to live in a different way, seeing death as an imposing itinerant visitor but knowing that even if I’m dying, until I actually die, I am still living.

接下來的六個星期，我改變了一下物理治療的重點，主要集中練習恢復手術(shù)時需要的力量：長時間的站立，對小物件的精密操縱，手掌向內(nèi)翻轉(zhuǎn)放置椎弓根釘。
Over the next six weeks, I altered my physical therapy program, focusing now on building strength specifically for operating: long hours of standing, micromanipulation of small objects, pronation for placing pedicle screws.

接著我又去做了一次CT，腫瘤略微縮小了一點。艾瑪和我一起看片子，她說：“我不知道你還能活多久，但我想說，今天我在你之前見的那個病人，吃特羅凱已經(jīng)七年了，還沒出什么問題。當然距離你的癌癥穩(wěn)定下來還有很長的路要走，但是，看你現(xiàn)在的樣子，說能活十年也不算瘋話。你可能活不到那么長，但也不是天方夜譚?！?br>Another CT scan followed. The tumor had shrunk slightly more. Going over the images with me, Emma said, “I don’t know how long you’ve got, but I will say this: the patient I saw just before you today has been on Tarceva for seven years without a problem. You’ve still got a ways to go before we’re that comfortable with your cancer. But, looking at you, thinking about living ten years is not crazy. You might not make it, but it’s not crazy.”

終于做了預(yù)測了，不，不是預(yù)測，是理由，是我決定重回神經(jīng)外科的理由，重回過去生活的理由。我一方面為自己可能再活十年而歡欣鼓舞，一方面又希望她說：“重新做回外科醫(yī)生太瘋狂了，做點更容易的事情吧?！蔽液苷痼@地意識到，不管怎么說，過去幾個月至少有一個方面是輕松明快的：不用去承受身為神經(jīng)外科醫(yī)生那種重若千鈞的責任。我竟然隱隱地希望有人能給我個臺階，讓我順著走下去，不再重拾這沉重的負擔。神經(jīng)外科真的很辛苦，就算我不回去，也沒人會指責我。（總有人問這是不是一種使命召喚，我總是給出肯定的回答。你不能把神經(jīng)外科看作一份工作，因為，如果是工作的話，那就是世界上最糟糕的工作。）有幾個教授非常不贊成我回去的想法：“你難道不該花點時間陪陪家人？”（“難道不該嗎？”我也捫心自問。我做出重返工作的決定，是因為對我來說，這份工作是非常神圣的。）露西和我才去爬過山，整個硅谷盡收眼底，我們看到很多著名的地標，很多建筑上的名字都標示著上一代的生物醫(yī)學和技術(shù)革新，我要是想去，隨便哪一家都可以。然而，最終，想重握外科鉆的渴望變得過于強烈，不容忽視。道德義務(wù)是有重量的，有重量的東西就有引力，所以道德責任的引力又將我拉回手術(shù)室。露西也表示全力支持。
Here was the prognostication—no, not prognostication: justification. Justification of my decision to return to neurosurgery, to return to life. One part of me exulted at the prospect of ten years. Another part wished she’d said, “Going back to being a neurosurgeon is crazy for you—pick something easier.” I was startled to realize that in spite of everything, the last few months had had one area of lightness: not having to bear the tremendous weight of the responsibility neurosurgery demanded— and part of me wanted to be excused from picking up the yoke again. Neurosurgery is really hard work, and no one would have faulted me for not going back. (People often ask if it is a calling, and my answer is always yes. You can’t see it as a job, because if it’s a job, it’s one of the worst jobs there is.) A couple of my professors actively discouraged the idea: “Shouldn’t you be spending time with your family?” (“Shouldn’t you?” I wondered. I was making the decision to do this work because this work, to me, was a sacred thing.) Lucy and I had just reached the top of the hill, the landmarks of Silicon Valley, buildings bearing the names of every biomedical and technological transformation of the last generation, unfolding below us. Eventually, though, the itch to hold a surgical drill again had become too compelling. Moral duty has weight, things that have weight have gravity, and so the duty to bear mortal responsibility pulled me back into the operating room. Lucy was fully supportive.