双语·当呼吸化为空气 事情真的这么糟糕了吗

事情真的这么糟糕了吗？在全世界最为严格和高要求的医学专家门下接受神经外科的训练，的确让我们的婚姻亮起了红灯。多少个夜晚，我很晚才回家，露西已经睡了，而我筋疲力尽地倒在客厅的地上。多少个清晨，天还没亮我就离家去上班了，她却还没睡醒。但现在我俩的事业都正处在高峰期，大多数大学都希望我俩一起去：我进神经外科，露西进内科。这人生之路最艰难的一段我们都熬过来了。这事儿我们不是讨论过很多次了吗？她难道不知道现在闹情绪是最不明智的吗？她难道不知道，我住院医师的生涯只剩最后一年了？她难道不知道我爱她？她难道不知道我们马上就要共同奔赴理想的生活了吗？
Were things really so bad? Neurosurgical training, among the most rigorous and demanding of all medical specialties, had surely put a strain on our marriage. There were so many nights when I came home late from work, after Lucy had gone to bed, and collapsed on the living room floor, exhausted, and so many mornings when I left for work in the early dark, before she’d awoken. But our careers were peaking now—most universities wanted both of us: me in neurosurgery, Lucy in internal medicine. We’d survived the most difficult part of our journey. Hadn’t we discussed this a dozen times? Didn’t she realize this was the worst possible time for her to blow things up? Didn’t she see that I had only one year left in residency, that I loved her, that we were so close to the life together we’d always wanted?

“如果只是因为住院医师，我没问题，”她说，“我们都走到这一步了。但问题是，如果不仅仅是因为住院医师呢？你真的觉得，等你成了神经外科主治医师和教授，一切就会好起来吗？”
“If it were just residency, I could make it,” she said. “We’ve made it this far. But the problem is, what if it’s not just residency? Do you really think things will be better when you’re an academic neurosurgery attending?”

我提出不去纽约了，大家都用开放的心态，去看看几个月前露西提议的婚姻咨询师。但她坚持说，她需要时间，要一个人待着。当时，我头脑里那种混乱迷惑的嗡嗡声已经消失了，只剩下冰冷坚硬的现实。行，我对自己说，要是她决定离开，那我就认为这段关系应该结束了。如果最后真的诊断出癌症，我也不会告诉她。她可以自由自在地去过自己选择的生活。
I offered to skip the trip, to be more open, to see the couples therapist Lucy had suggested a few months ago, but she insisted that she needed time—alone. At that point, the fuzziness of the confusion dissipated, leaving only a hard edge. Fine, I said. If she decided to leave, then I would assume the relationship was over. If it turned out that I had cancer, I wouldn’t tell her—she’d be free to live whatever life she chose.

动身去纽约之前，我偷偷去看了几次医生，排除了一些年轻人常见的癌症。（睾丸癌？不是。黑色素瘤？不是。白血病？不是。）神经外科一如既往地忙碌。周四晚上到周五早上我一直连轴转，在手术室整整待了三十六个小时，处理一系列非常复杂的病例：巨大的动脉瘤、颅内动脉搭桥、动静脉畸形。主治医生进来的时候我满怀感激地默默舒了口气，至少能靠在墙上松动松动背部的筋骨了。唯一能去照个胸片的时间是离开医院后回家的路上，还有去飞机场之前。我心想，如果我得了癌症，那这就是最后一次见那些朋友了；如果没得，那更没理由取消这次行程了。
Before leaving for New York, I snuck in a few medical appointments to rule out some common cancers in the young. (Testicular? No. Melanoma? No. Leukemia? No.) The neurosurgical service was busy, as always. Thursday night slipped into Friday morning as I was caught in the operating room for thirty-six hours straight, in a series of deeply complex cases: giant aneurysms, intrace-rebral arterial bypasses, arteriovenous malformations. I breathed a silent thanks when the attending came in, allowing me a few minutes to ease my back against a wall. The only time to get a chest X-ray was as I was leaving the hospital, on the way home before heading to the airport. I figured either I had cancer, in which case this might be the last time I would see my friends, or I didn’t, in which case there was no reason to cancel the trip.