By+Regina+Mara+Schwartz

一直以來，是否主動(dòng)放棄那些醫(yī)學(xué)上被判無望的生命，始終是個(gè)尖銳的話題。其實(shí)，對(duì)生命的感悟永遠(yuǎn)是因人而異的。作者的母親在兩度中風(fēng)后難有康復(fù)希望，然而就在陪伺至親的看似絕望的日子里，作者不僅被母親的堅(jiān)強(qiáng)樂觀所鼓舞，也在親情與愛的光輝中心靈受洗，對(duì)生命的意義有了更多的思索。

I was holding her hand and singing softly to her when the man in the white coat came in. I guessed from his coldness that he was not bearing good news. Sometimes， when I was surrounded by doctors who had given up on Mamas life， I felt besieged by a death squad.1 When she was alert， her warm， brown， reassuring eyes could make me move mountains， certainly strengthen me to ward off2 the doctors negativity. But when she was in a medicated sleep， I was on my own and more vulnerable. Now here was the ominous pulmonologist.3 He beckoned4 me to the window， held up both sets of X-rays， and said： Her lungs were filling up with fluid. This meant that immediately I would need to consult with specialists， and stop whatever was encroaching5 in my mothers lungs immediately. However， this doctor seemed to have another plan.

I discovered what that was two hours later， when another man appeared in her room， this one clad6 in a dark suit instead of a white jacket. Dark-suit had been sent by White-jacket to speak to me about“the question of life.” I asked what his specialty was， doubting that he was a philosopher. “Ethics7” he said.

In the hall outside my mothers room， our conversation was surprisingly short， and not nearly as philosophical as I had anticipated. He gave me a list of my mothers disabilities and then concluded that they added up to the end of her life. I had heard the phrase “We can make her comfortable” too many times. Now I was more disappointed than devastated when doctors wanted to kill my mother.

My mother had recovered from her first stroke8. Through the tireless work of specialists and her own determination， she had regained virtually all of her capacities. Then， a year later， the second stroke cruelly hit the functioning side of her brain. She couldnt walk， talk， or swallow any more. But she could still paint and she was an artist： Her right arm was spared， still mobile and very strong. She could communicate effectively， writing when she needed， but what she mainly communicated， through her eyes， was love.

I periodically asked her if her immobility was too hard on her， and did she understand the question. No， she shook her head， it was not too hard on her. I confess I was surprised by her determination， her fortitude9， her courage. I sang love songs to her， thankfully， with the help of Plácido Domingos10 recordings. She used her good arm， first to hug me whenever I entered her room， and then to conduct while Plácido and I sang our hearts out.11endprint

When I wasnt singing along with the Maestro12， I read to her， assisted her painting， shared magazine ads with her， and told her silly stories and laughed with her. We did not worry about the news， or errands13， or who we liked and didnt or why. We just loved. Days flew by.

Nursing her was not draining14 because she was always giving so much. What she gave was what she always gave， a level of understanding that was beyond words. And not just to me. After her first stroke， in rehab class， one patient， a paraplegic teenager who had been shot in gang warfare，15 didnt try to do exercise. My mother could talk then， and she rolled her chair up to him and quietly said，“If I am trying to do this， and I am in my late eighties， then you really ought to give it your best.” He did after that.

Now， a young nurse stopped me in the hospital just before Darksuit appeared： “Arent you Regina？ How is your mother？ You know， I owe my new job to her： She encouraged me to learn to drive， so I could get to the hospital to work. I love working here.” My mother had sprinkled her fairy dust on this woman，16 as on everyone else she knew.

So， I told Mr. Ethics： “Quality of life？ My mother cannot run a mile or eat a meal at a table， but she is giving and receiving more love than anyone in this place who can. Im not sure how you measure quality of life， but that is how we do.”

It is a curious fact that while whole sectors of our culture are preoccupied with love—novels， film， painting， music， poetry， religion—it has been marginalized or even exiled from other spheres—from politics， economics， legal thought， and， largely， even from philosophy.17 Somehow love is regarded as a “soft” subject， fit for the arts and fine for private life， but not for the tough business of the public sphere， of making hard choices， negotiating power， and forging18 contracts. So the hospitals expert on ethics was making calculations， calculations about my mothers functionality—could she achieve her goals and pursue the excellence of “l(fā)iving well”that society has defined for the elderly （from playing golf to traveling）. With all of this preoccupation with utility， it is no wonder that love was not even on his radar screen.

Why is love regarded as the highest human value in some cultural sectors and not even on the map in others？ Make no mistake， for many thinkers in many times， love is the very purpose of life. The God of the Bible， Jesus in the New Testament， Socrates in the Symposium， Shakespeare in King Lear：19 For each of them， love defines us as human.endprint

The books on religion are full of love. In these books， love is not just a private emotion， but preeminently20 public—it is social glue， and more. From the perspective of love， nature is self-renewing， the energy of life is unlimited.

How did that medical ethicist arrive at the calculus21 that my mother should die？ Did he really think that a feeling， thinking being was disposable22 because she was unable to walk？ Or was he making an economic calculus， that to treat her lungs to make her well， to keep a bedridden23 person alive， was costly. He certainly did not “calculate” her infinite love， the way it transformed everyone who came in contact with her： not only her family and friends but also each nurse， each fellow rehab patient， and even the ambulance drivers. And he didnt calculate what effects their being loved in turn wrought24 on others.

The dangers of the medical ethicists thinking are serious indeed. Human life is reduced to cost-benefit25 analyses， to mutual benefit at best， and to individual benefit more frequently. Down the slippery slope of protecting selfinterest， all forms of caring for any reason other than selfenhancement are effectively expunged from the map.26 Can we do better？

1. besiege： // 圍困，包圍；death squad： 處決小隊(duì)，暗殺小組。

2. ward off： 避開。

3. o min o u s： //令人感覺不祥的；pulmonologist：/

/ 肺科醫(yī)生。

4. beckon： 招手示意。

5. encroach： 侵占，侵蝕。

6. clad： 穿……衣服。

7. ethics： 倫理學(xué)。

8. stroke： 中風(fēng)。

9. fortitude： 剛毅，堅(jiān)忍。

10. Plácido Domingo： 普拉西多·多明戈（1941— ），西班牙歌唱家，20世紀(jì)后半葉的世界三大男高音之一。

11. conduct： 指揮；sing ones heart out： 充滿感情地高唱。

12. Maestro： 音樂大師，此處指男高音多明戈。

13. errand： 任務(wù)，使命。

14. draining： 使人精疲力竭的。

15. rehab：（=rehabilitation）康復(fù)治療；paraplegic： // 截癱的；warfare： 戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)，戰(zhàn)亂。

16. sprinkle： 撒（粉末狀物）；fairy dust： 仙塵。sprinkle fairy dust指施展魔法，來自《彼得·潘》中的一個(gè)情節(jié)，小飛俠彼得·潘給孩子們?nèi)錾舷蓧m后他們就能飛起來。

17. 一個(gè)奇怪的事實(shí)是：文化中的各個(gè)領(lǐng)域，如小說、電影、繪畫、音樂、詩歌和宗教等，都充滿著愛的主題，但在政治、經(jīng)濟(jì)、法律思維方面，甚至上升到哲學(xué)范疇，愛卻都被邊緣化，甚至被置于考量之外。be preoccupied with： 專注于，全神貫注于；marginalize：使邊緣化，排斥；exile： 流放，放逐；sphere： 范圍，領(lǐng)域。

18. forge： 締結(jié)，達(dá)成。

19. New Testament： 《新約》，《圣經(jīng)》分為《舊約》和《新約》兩大部分，是以耶穌出生為界限；Socrates：蘇格拉底（469BC—399BC），古希臘哲學(xué)家；Symposium：《會(huì)飲篇》，蘇格拉底的學(xué)生柏拉圖以對(duì)話形式寫成的、探討愛的本質(zhì)的一部作品；Shakespeare： 威廉·莎士比亞（1564—1616），英國(guó)文學(xué)史上最杰出的戲劇家，也是西方文藝史上最杰出的作家之一；King Lear ：《李爾王》，莎士比亞著名的悲劇之一。

20. preeminently： // 顯著地。

21. calculus： 此處=calculation。

22. disposable： 一次性的，用后丟棄的。

23. bedridden： 臥床不起的。

24. wrought： work的過去分詞。

25. cost-benefit： 成本效益，一種經(jīng)濟(jì)決策方法，只有在收益大于成本時(shí)才會(huì)從事某項(xiàng)活動(dòng)。

26. 沿著維護(hù)自身利益這個(gè)斜坡一路下滑，任何不以自身利益為目標(biāo)的關(guān)愛方式事實(shí)上都被割除殆盡。selfenhancement： 自我提升；expunge：刪除，除去。endprint