雙語(yǔ)·當(dāng)呼吸化為空氣 大學(xué)最后一年

大學(xué)最后一年，神經(jīng)學(xué)課程快上完了，有一堂課講神經(jīng)科學(xué)與道德，我們?nèi)チ艘凰燄B(yǎng)院，專門接收遭受過(guò)重度腦損傷的人。一走進(jìn)接待區(qū)，就聽(tīng)到一陣憂傷的哭號(hào)。女導(dǎo)覽三十多歲，親切友好，向大家做了自我介紹。但我一直在搜尋哭號(hào)的來(lái)源。接待處的柜臺(tái)后面有一臺(tái)大屏幕電視，放著肥皂劇，但電視是靜音狀態(tài)。屏幕上有個(gè)藍(lán)眼睛、淺黑膚色的女人，她的頭發(fā)精心修飾過(guò)，有些激動(dòng)地晃著頭，哀求著畫面外的某個(gè)人。鏡頭拉遠(yuǎn)，原來(lái)是她的情人，大大的下巴，一看就是那種聲音沙啞粗重的男人。他們激情相擁?？尢?hào)聲更大了。我走到近旁，往柜臺(tái)下面看，電視機(jī)前鋪著一塊藍(lán)色墊子，上面坐著個(gè)年輕女人，穿著家常的印花裙子，二十歲左右，雙手握拳，壓在眼睛上，身子劇烈地來(lái)回?fù)u晃，哭啊哭啊哭啊。隨著她的搖晃，我瞥見(jiàn)她的后腦勺，那里沒(méi)有頭發(fā)，只剩下一大片光禿禿的蒼白頭皮。
Senior year, in one of my last neuroscience classes, on neuroscience and ethics, we visited a home for people who had suffered severe brain injuries. We walked into the main reception area and were greeted by a disconsolate wailing. Our guide, a friendly thirty-something woman, introduced herself to the group, but my eyes hunted for the source of the noise. Behind the reception counter was a large-screen television showing a soap opera, on mute. A blue-eyed brunette with well-coiffed hair, her head shaking slightly with emotion, filled the screen as she pleaded with someone off camera; zoom out, and there was her strong-jawed, undoubtedly gravel-voiced lover; they embraced passionately. The wailing rose in pitch. I stepped closer to peer over the counter, and there, on a blue mat in front of the television, in a plain flower-print dress, was a young woman, maybe twenty, her hands balled into fists pressed into her eyes, violently rocking back and forth, wailing and wailing. As she rocked, I caught glimpses of the back of her head, where her hair had worn away, leaving a large, pale patch of skin.

大家要去參觀療養(yǎng)院的其他地方了，我趕緊歸隊(duì)。和導(dǎo)覽談起來(lái)，我才知道，住在這里的很多人小時(shí)候都有過(guò)差點(diǎn)被淹死的經(jīng)歷。我環(huán)視四周，發(fā)現(xiàn)除了我們沒(méi)有其他外人來(lái)訪。我問(wèn)導(dǎo)覽是不是通常都如此。
I stepped back to join the group, which was leaving to tour the facility. Talking with the guide, I learned that many of the residents had nearly drowned as young children. Looking around, I noticed there were no other visitors besides us. Was that common? I asked.

導(dǎo)覽解釋說(shuō)，病人剛送來(lái)的時(shí)候，家人會(huì)經(jīng)常來(lái)，有的每天都來(lái)，有的甚至一天兩次。然后可能慢慢變成隔天來(lái)一次。后來(lái)就只有周末才來(lái)了。時(shí)間長(zhǎng)了，過(guò)幾個(gè)月才來(lái)，甚至幾年才來(lái)看一次。反正次數(shù)是逐漸減少的，可能每年就是在病人的生日和圣誕節(jié)，象征性地來(lái)探望一下。最后，大多數(shù)家人都搬家了，似乎離得越遠(yuǎn)越好。
At first, the guide explained, a family will visit constantly, daily or even twice a day. Then maybe every other day. Then just weekends. After months or years, the visits taper off, until it’s just, say, birthdays and Christmas. Eventually, most families move away, as far as they can get.

“我不怪他們，”導(dǎo)覽說(shuō)，“照顧這些孩子很難的?！?br>“I don’t blame them,” she said. “It’s hard caring for these kids.”

我胸中怒氣翻滾。難？當(dāng)然很難啊，但那些做父母的，怎么能拋棄這些孩子呢？一間房里，病人們都躺在簡(jiǎn)易床上，幾乎一動(dòng)不動(dòng)，整整齊齊躺成一排，像營(yíng)房里的士兵。我順著一排小床走，突然和其中一個(gè)病人四目相對(duì)。她大概十幾歲，快滿二十的樣子，一頭黑發(fā)蓬亂糾結(jié)。我停下來(lái)，努力朝她微笑，想告訴她我是關(guān)心他們的。我握住她的一只手，軟塌塌的，原來(lái)有殘疾。但她喉嚨里咕嚕一聲，直視著我，露出微笑。
A fury churned in me. Hard? Of course it was hard, but how could parents abandon these kids? In one room, the patients lay on cots, mostly still, arranged in neat rows like soldiers in a barracks. I walked down a row until I made eye contact with one of them. She was in her late teens, with dark, tangled hair. I paused and tried smiling at her, showing her I cared. I picked up one of her hands; it was limp. But she gurgled and, looking right at me, smiled.

“我覺(jué)得她笑了。”我對(duì)看護(hù)說(shuō)。
“I think she’s smiling,” I said to the attendant.

“可能是，”她說(shuō)，“有時(shí)候也說(shuō)不清楚?！?br>“Could be,” she said. “It can be hard to tell sometimes.”

但我很肯定，她是在笑。
But I was sure of it. She was smiling.

回到學(xué)校，大家都走了，教室里只剩下我和教授?！班?，你有什么想法？”他問(wèn)。
When we got back to campus, I was the last one left in the room with the professor. “So, what’d you think?” he asked.

我一股腦兒地把心里想的全說(shuō)出來(lái)了，說(shuō)我完全無(wú)法相信那些父母就這樣把可憐的孩子拋棄了，也無(wú)法相信有個(gè)孩子竟然朝我笑了。
I vented openly about how I couldn’t believe that parents had abandoned these poor kids, and how one of them had even smiled at me.

這位教授是一位良師益友，他對(duì)于科學(xué)和道德之間的聯(lián)系，有很深邃的思考。我滿心以為他和我想法一致。
The professor was a mentor, someone who thought deeply about how science and morality intersected. I expected him to agree with me.

“是啊，”他說(shuō)，“很好，你這么想很好。但有時(shí)候，嗯，我覺(jué)得他們死了倒還好些?！?br>“Yeah,” he said. “Good. Good for you. But sometimes, you know, I think it’s better if they die.”

我抓起書包，揚(yáng)長(zhǎng)而去。
I grabbed my bag and left.

她明明笑了啊，是不是？
She had been smiling, hadn’t she?

到后來(lái)，我才意識(shí)到，這次參觀讓我對(duì)大腦作用的理解又增添了一個(gè)新的維度。是的，大腦可以賦予我們建立關(guān)系，讓生命充滿意義的能力。但有時(shí)候，大腦也會(huì)破壞這種能力。
Only later would I realize that our trip had added a new dimension to my understanding of the fact that brains give rise to our ability to form relationships and make life meaningful. Sometimes, they break.