双语·当呼吸化为空气 我第一次见证出生 也是第一次见证死亡
我第一次见证出生，也是第一次见证死亡。当时我刚刚通过医师认证的第一阶段考试，整整两年，高强度的学习，埋在书山之中，在图书馆独坐到深夜，在咖啡馆聚精会神地看课堂笔记，躺在床上也不忘看自制的学习卡。而接下来的两年，我将奔波在医院和诊所，终于可以把那些理论知识付诸实践，去缓解真正的病痛。我的首要关注对象，终于要变成病人，而不是那些抽象的知识了。我的实习从妇产科开始，会经常上大夜班，在病房目睹产妇分娩、孩子出生。
I had recently taken Step 1 of my medical boards, wrapping up two years of intensive study buried in books, deep in libraries, poring over lecture notes in coffee shops, reviewing hand-made flash cards while lying in bed. The next two years, then, I would spend in the hospital and clinic, finally putting that theoretical knowledge to use to relieve concrete suffering, with patients, not abstractions, as my primary focus. I started in obgyn, working the graveyard shift in the labor and delivery ward.
日落时分，我走进医院大楼，努力回忆分娩的各个阶段和相应的子宫颈扩张程度，孩子在往外钻时各个位置的名字，反正只要关键时刻能派上用场的，我都要想个遍。我这个医学生的任务就是观察学习，不要碍手碍脚。我的老师们，主要是那些已经读完医学院，并且选好专业、完成培训的住院医生，以及有着多年临床经验的护士。但我心中仍有恐惧如影随形，如同不安分的小鸟扑闪着翅膀。我害怕万一有什么意外情况，或者谁满怀期待地让我自己去接生，然后我失败了。
Walking into the building as the sun descended, I tried to recall the stages of labor, the corresponding dilation of the cervix, the names of the “stations” that indicated the baby’s descent—anything that might prove helpful when the time came. As a medical student, my task was to learn by observation and avoid getting in the way. Residents, who had finished medical school and were now completing training in a chosen specialty, and nurses, with their years of clinical experience, would serve as my primary instructors. But the fear still lurked—I could feel its fluttering—that through accident or expectation, I’d be called on to deliver a child by myself, and fail.
我来到医生休息室，见指导我的住院医生。走进去后，看到一个深色头发的年轻女人，躺在沙发上，大嚼着一块三明治，同时一边看电视，一边读着期刊上的文章。我做了个自我介绍。
I made my way to the doctors’ lounge where I was to meet the resident. I walked in and saw a dark-haired young woman lying on a couch, chomping furiously at a sandwich while watching TV and reading a journal article. I introduced myself.
“哦，好，”她说，“我是梅丽莎。需要我的话，到这儿或者值班室来找我。嗯，你最好注意一下那个叫加西亚的病人，二十二岁，早产宫缩，怀的还是双胞胎。其他人都还挺正常的。”
“Oh, hi,” she said. “I’m Melissa. I’ll be in here or in the call room if you need me. Probably the best thing for you to do is keep an eye on patient Garcia. She’s twenty-two-year-old, here with preterm labor and twins. Everyone else is pretty standard.”
梅丽莎一边大口咬着三明治，一边向我简要介绍了一下情况，信息真是很密集：双胞胎还只有二十三周半大；希望能尽量帮她保胎，不管能保多久，以便让胎儿发育得更成熟一些；至少要超过二十四周，这是培养胎儿生存能力的关键时期，之后的每一天都会好很多；病人在吃很多控制宫缩的药物。这时，梅丽莎的呼机响了。
Between bites, Melissa briefed me, a barrage of facts and information: The twins were only twenty-three and a half weeks old; the hope was to keep the pregnancy going until they were more developed, however long that might be; twenty-four weeks was considered the cusp of viability, and every extra day made a difference; the patient was getting various drugs to control her contractions. Melissa’s pager went off.
“好，”她双腿晃荡着从沙发上落了地，“我要走了。你要是愿意，就在这儿待会儿。能收到很多不错的有线电视频道。要么你就跟我来。”
“Okay,” she said, swinging her legs off the couch. “I gotta go. You can hang out here, if you like. We have good cable channels. Or you can come with me.”
我跟着梅丽莎来到护士站。一面墙上全是显示器，显示着密密麻麻的遥测曲线。
I followed Melissa to the nurses’ station. One wall was lined with monitors, displaying wavy telemetry lines.
“那是什么？”我问。
“What’s that?” I asked.
“子宫分娩力计输出的图像和胎儿的心率。我带你去看看病人。她听不懂英语。你会说西班牙语吗？”
“That’s the output of the tocometers and the fetal heart rates. Let me show you the patient. She doesn’t speak English. Do you speak Spanish?”
我摇摇头。梅丽莎把我带到病房，很昏暗。准妈妈躺在床上休息，很安静，肚子上缠着各种各样的监控带，检测她的宫缩情况和双胞胎的心率，将信号传输到我刚才在护士站看到的屏幕上。准爸爸站在窗边，握着妻子的手，忧虑地紧皱着眉头。梅丽莎用西班牙语朝他们小声说了几句话，然后拉着我出去了。
I shook my head. Melissa brought me to the room. It was dark. The mother lay in a bed, resting, quiet, monitor bands wrapped around her belly, tracking her contractions and the twins’ heart rates and sending the signal to the screens I’d seen at the nurses’ station. The father stood at the bedside holding his wife’s hand, worry etched on his brow. Melissa whispered something to them in Spanish, then escorted me out.
