双语·当呼吸化为空气 保罗愿不愿意这样呢

保罗愿不愿意这样呢？
Was that what he wanted?

很快大家就意识到关键问题：这种突然的呼吸衰竭可以逆转吗？
The key question quickly came into view: Could the sudden respiratory failure be reversed?

我们关心的是，保罗的病情会不会太严重，呼吸机一旦上去就撤不下来了。他会不会突发精神错乱，继而器官衰竭，先是意识丧失，最后身体也跟着消亡？都是医生，这种令人痛苦的场景我们都曾见证过。保罗提出了另一种方案，他可以选择不插管，接受“舒适护理”，就算死亡也许来得更迅速，更笃定。“就算我撑过了这次，”他始终想着自己的脑癌，“未来也可能没有任何意义。”他妈妈很绝望地打断他：“今晚别做任何决定好吗，保比？”她说，“咱们先好好休息。”保罗明确表示不要进行心肺复苏，然后同意了母亲的请求。
Of concern was whether Paul would remain too ill to ever come off the ventilator—would he be lost to delirium and then organ failure, first mind and then body slipping away? We’d witnessed this agonizing scenario as physicians. Paul explored the alternative: in lieu of intubation, he could choose “comfort care,” though death would come more surely and swiftly. “Even if I make it through this,” he said, thinking of the cancer in his brain, “I’m not sure I see a future that includes meaningful time.” His mother chimed in, desperately.“No decisions tonight, Pubby,” she said. “Let’s all get some rest.” After ensuring his “do not resuscitate” status, Paul agreed.

护士满怀同情地多给了他几条毯子。我关掉病房的日光灯。
Sympathetic nurses brought him extra blankets. I switched off the fluorescent lights.

保罗一觉睡到日出时分，他父亲一直坐在旁边守着。我到旁边的房间小睡了一会儿，希望自己在精神上不要垮掉。因为我知道，接下来也许就是我人生最艰难的一天。早上六点，我轻手轻脚回到保罗的病房，依然是昏暗的灯光，重症监护仪断断续续地响着。保罗睁开眼睛。我们又谈了“舒适护理”的问题，不准备采取任何特别激进的手段去阻止他病情的恶化。而且，他使劲大声问我能不能回家。他病得这么严重，我担心这样动来动去他会太痛苦，还可能在回家路上就会去世。但我还是说，如果他现在最看重的事情就是回家，那我会尽一切努力带他回去。我们互相点头达成共识。现在的方向应该就是舒适护理了。或者，有没有可能把这里变成家呢？在BiPAP呼吸的间隙，他给出了答案：“卡迪。”
Paul managed to doze until sunrise, his father sitting vigil while I napped briefly in an adjacent room hoping to preserve my mental strength, knowing that the following day might be the hardest of my life. I crept back to Paul’s room at six a. m ., the lights still low, the intensive-care monitors chiming intermittently. Paul opened his eyes. We talked again about “comfort care”—avoiding aggressive attempts to forestall his decline—and he wondered aloud whether he could go home. He was so ill that I worried he might suffer and die on the way. However, I said I would do everything possible to take him home if that were most important to him, nodding that yes, comfort care might be the direction we were headed. Or was there some way to recreate home here? Between BiPAP puffs, he answered: “Cady.”

卡迪很快就来了。我们的朋友维多利亚去家里把她接来了。懵懂的她欢天喜地地开始“看护”爸爸，舒舒服服地躺在保罗的右臂之中，拉扯自己小小的袜子，小手拍打着爸爸身上盖的毯子，一会儿咧嘴微笑，一会儿牙牙学语，丝毫没受BiPAP的影响。而这台呼吸机继续工作着，维持着保罗的生命。
Cady arrived in short order—our friend Victoria had retrieved her from home—and began her own unwitting, cheerful vigil, happily nestled in the crook of Paul’s right arm, tugging at her tiny socks, batting at his hospital blankets, smiling and cooing, unbothered by the BiPAP machine as it continued to blow, keeping Paul alive.

医疗团队一次次地来查房，在病房外讨论保罗的病情，他的父母和我也加入讨论。保罗的急性呼吸衰竭，应该是由癌症急剧恶化引起的。他血液的二氧化碳浓度还在上升，要救命的话，需要立刻插管。作为病人家属的我们矛盾万分：保罗的肿瘤医生打电话来，满怀希望地认为这种急性的问题能够得到缓解，但在场的医生就没那么乐观了。我恳求他们，尽量准确地预测他从这次急性衰竭中恢复的可能。
The medical team came by on rounds, discussing Paul’s case outside the room, where his family and I joined them. Paul’s acute respiratory failure was likely rapid cancer progressing. His carbon dioxide level was rising still—a hardening indication for intubation. The family was torn: Paul’s oncologist had phoned in, hopeful that the acute problem could be ameliorated, but the physicians present were less optimistic. I entreated them to weigh in with as much conviction as possible on the chance of reversing his abrupt decline.

“他不想接受只是保命的治疗，”我说，“如果他还能度过一些有意义的时光，他想把面罩摘下来，好好抱抱卡迪。”
“He doesn’t want a Hail Mary,” I said. “If he doesn’t have a chance of meaningful time, he wants to take the mask off and hold Cady.”

我回到保罗床边。他看着我，盖着BiPAP面罩的鼻梁之上，那双深色的眼睛炯炯有神。他用轻柔而坚定的声音，清楚明白地说：“我准备好了。”
I returned to Paul’s bedside. He looked at me, his dark eyes alert above the nose bridge of the BiPAP mask, and said clearly, his voice soft but unwavering, “I’m ready.”

准备好了。他的意思是：准备好撤除呼吸辅助设备，准备好注射吗啡，准备好去世了。
Ready, he meant, to remove the breathing support, to start morphine, to die.

一家人都聚集在一起。保罗做了决定后，我们抓紧珍贵的分分秒秒，表达了我们的爱与尊重。保罗的眼中泪光闪烁。他感谢了父母，并且让我们保证，他写的东西能以某种形式出版。他最后一次对我说“我爱你”。主治医生走进来，用尽量坚强的语气对他说：“保罗，你去世以后，你的家人会伤心崩溃，但他们一定会振作起来，因为你给他们树立了勇敢的榜样。”吉旺凝视着保罗，苏曼说：“安心地去吧，我的弟弟。”我强忍着心碎，最后一次和他同床共枕。
The family gathered together. During the precious minutes after Paul’s decision, we all expressed our love and respect. Tears glistened in Paul’s eyes. He expressed gratitude to his parents. He asked us to ensure that his manuscript be published in some form. He told me a last time that he loved me. The attending physician stepped in with strengthening words: “Paul, after you die, your family will fall apart, but they’ll pull it back together because of the example of bravery you set.” Jeevan’s eyes were trained on Paul as Suman said, “Go in peace, my brother.” With my heart breaking, I climbed into the last bed we would share.

我想起那些年我俩一起相拥过的床。八年前，还是医学生的我们也是这样躺在一张单人床上，旁边是我生命垂危的祖父。他在家里，病入膏肓。我们没有过完蜜月就回来分担照顾他的重担。每过几个小时就起床喂他吃药。我看着保罗俯下身子，凑近去听祖父小声提出的要求，对他的爱又加深了几分。然而那时的我们又怎能想象眼前的场景，竟然在如此近的将来，我们就一起躺在保罗自己临终的床上。二十二个月以前，我们在同一家医院另一层楼的一张病床上相拥而泣过，当时保罗刚刚被确诊癌症。八个月以前，也是在这家医院，我们一起躺在我的病床上。卡迪出生了。我和保罗都在睡觉，互相枕着对方的手臂，那是卡迪出生后我的第一个长长的好觉。我想起家中那张空空如也的舒服的床，想起十二年前在纽黑文与保罗坠入爱河。那时我特别惊讶，两个人的身体四肢竟然如此契合，从那时起，我们都是互相拥抱时睡得最好。我用自己拥有的一切祈祷，愿他此刻也感受到和我一样的舒适与安心。
I thought of other beds we’d shared. Eight years prior as medical students, we’d slept similarly ensconced in a twin bed next to my grandfather as he lay dying at home, having cut our honeymoon short to help with caregiving duties. We awakened every few hours to give him medications, my love for Paul deepening as I watched him lean in and listen closely to my grandfather’s whispered requests. We’d never have imagined this scene, Paul’s own deathbed, so near in our future. Twenty-two months ago, we’d cried in a bed on another floor of this same hospital as we learned of Paul’s cancer diagnosis. Eight months ago, we’d been together here in my hospital bed the day after Cady was born, both napping, the first good, long sleep I’d had since her birth, wrapped in each other’s arms. I thought of our cozy bed empty at home, remembered falling in love in New Haven twelve years earlier, surprised right away by how well our bodies and limbs fit together, and thought of how ever since, we’d both slept best when entwined. I hoped with all I had that he felt that same restful comfort now.

一个小时后，面罩摘了，监视器也撤了，吗啡流进保罗的静脉输液管。他的呼吸很稳，但也很浅，看上去挺舒服的样子。尽管如此，我还是问他，要不要多打点吗啡。他点点头，闭上双眼。保罗的妈妈就坐在旁边，爸爸的手放在他头顶。最后，他陷入了昏迷。
An hour later, the mask and monitors were off, and morphine was flowing through Paul’s IV. He was breathing steadily but shallowly, and he appeared comfortable. Nonetheless, I asked him whether he needed more morphine, and he nodded yes, his eyes closed. His mother sat close; his father’s hand rested atop his head. Finally, he slipped into unconsciousness.

九个多小时，保罗的父母、兄弟、弟妹、女儿和我，我们这些家人全都围坐在身边，看顾着不省人事的他。他的昏迷愈发加深，偶尔呼吸一两下，眼睑紧闭，脸上是如释重负的表情。他长长的手指温柔地盖在我手上，保罗的父母先是把卡迪放在摇篮里，接着又把她安放在病床上，摇摇她，哄哄她，让她甜甜地入睡。病房里弥漫着浓浓的爱，就像多年来一家人团聚的很多节日与周末。我抚摸着保罗的头发，低语着：“你是个勇敢的圣骑士。”“圣骑士”是我对他的昵称。接着我在他耳边安静地唱起一首歌谣，是我俩过去几个月来一起编的，旋律简单，朗朗上口，中心思想就是“谢谢你爱我”。关系很近的表亲和叔叔也来了医院，接着我们的牧师赶到了。一家人分享着特别有爱的趣事和只有彼此才懂的笑话。接着我们相继哭起来，忧心忡忡地端详保罗和彼此的脸。我们沉浸在此时此刻的珍贵与痛苦中，这是与保罗最后的团聚时光。
For more than nine hours, Paul’s family—his parents, brothers, sisterin-law, daughter, and I—sat vigil as Paul, unconscious, now drew increasingly halting, infrequent breaths, his eyelids closed, his face unburdened. His long fingers rested softly in mine. Paul’s parents cradled Cady and then put her in the bed again to snuggle, nurse, nap. The room, saturated with love, mirrored the many holidays and weekends we had all spent together over the years. I stroked Paul’s hair, whispering, “You’re a brave Paladin”—my nickname for him—and singing quietly into his ear a favorite jingle we’d made up over the previous months, its core message being “Thank you for loving me.”A close cousin and uncle arrived, and then our pastor. The family shared loving anecdotes and inside jokes; then we all took turns weeping, studying Paul’s face and each other’s with concern, steeped in the preciousness and pain of this time, our last hours all together.

夜幕降临，病房暗下来，一盏低低的壁灯发出温暖的光。保罗的呼吸更为缓慢艰难，没有节奏。他的整个身体都很平静，四肢也放松了。快到九点的时候，他的嘴唇微微张开，合上双眼。他深深吸了一口气，又长长地呼出。这是他最后一次呼吸。
As the room darkened into night, a low wall lamp glowing warmly, Paul’s breaths became faltering and irregular. His body continued to appear restful, his limbs relaxed. Just before nine o’clock, his lips apart and eyes closed, Paul inhaled and then released one last, deep, final breath.