我的病人,我的老师

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Mr B was lying on the ER cot. It was 5 a.m., and he was sleeping quietly. Given the hour, I felt a twinge of guilt at waking him. His face was gaunt and his hair stark white. I looked at the triage report sheet―he was an 86-year-old coming in with fatigue.

I took a deep breath.

I was nearing the end of my second straight week of 14-hour night shifts. I was nauseated and cold from fatigue, and the fascinating nature of my work was far from my thoughts.

I had Mr B categorized in a second: He’s going to be demented. He won’t be able to give me any history.

“Mr B, sorry to wake you.”

He awoke, looked at me, and said, “Thanks for coming, Nurse. Could you get me some water?”

Deep breath in and out. Okay, good, don’t overreact. This has happened countless times.

“Actually, I’m the doctor,” I replied. “Here’s some water.”

After a few sips, I started asking him questions about his symptoms, his medical history, and so on.

Well, perhaps firing the questions would be a more appropriate term.

His speech was painfully slow.

The history was inconclusive. No matter; on to the physical exam.

“My hands are cold,” I warned.

“Do what you have to, Doctor.”

I placed my frigid palm on his chest. He didn’t flinch.

My other hand gripped the bed rail.

Mr B’s arms started slowly moving toward me. He grasped my resting hand. Then, this man, who moved so slowly, started rapidly rubbing my hand between both of his. I stared.

“To warm you up, Doctor. My wife also gets cold when she’s tired. This helps her. You should be taking care of yourself, not old men like me.”

When he finished rubbing one hand, he moved to the other. It felt incredibly good, and I continued to watch in amazement. He was the sick one, not me. And yet this man, with whom I had been impatient, was concerned about my well-being.

My haste dissipated. At that moment, it was the patient, not the doctor, who had the healing touch.

B先生正躺在急诊室的病床上。时间是零晨5点，他睡得很香。在规定的时间叫醒他让我感到有一种负罪感。他一脸憔悴，头发已经全白。我看着病历报告单，他86岁，因为过度疲劳而来到这里。

我深吸了一口气。

我即将结束14小时的连续工作。因为疲劳，我感到恶心和寒冷。这离我理想中舒适的工作性质差很远。

我再次扫了一眼他的诊断报告：老年痴呆症。所以，我想让他亲口告诉我他的过去是一件很困难的事。

“B先生，很抱歉叫醒你。”

他睁开眼睛，看着我，说：“谢谢你来看我，护士小姐。你可以给我一杯水吗？”

我深呼吸了一口气。好，好，不要太激动！这已经发生了无数次。

“事实上，我是医生。”我说道，“给你水。”

待他饮了几口水后，我开始问他问题：他的症状、他的医疗历史等等。

是的，或许回答完这些问题需要一定的时间。

他的回答无比的慢。

他的回答也没什么有价值的。但不管怎样，必须检查他的身体。

“我的手很冰。”我首先声明。

“做你必须要做的，医生。”

我把我冰冷的掌心放到他的胸口。他没有退缩。

我的另一只手握住床栏。

B先生的手开始慢慢移向我。突然，这位动作迟缓的老人抓住我握住床栏的手，然后开始迅速用他的双手揉我的手。我盯着他。

“帮你暖和一下，医生。我的妻子疲劳的时候，她的手也会变得很冷。这样对她有帮助。你应该照顾好你自己，不要像我这个老家伙一样。”

当他揉完一只手后，又转移到另一只手。我感到了难以置信的舒服，惊奇地看着他所做的一切。他是病人，我不是。然而这个让我感到不耐烦的人，在关心我的健康。

我的急性子消失了。那一刻，一个病人，而不是一个医生，治愈了我的心病。

（北京 田 力 供稿）