By+Regina+Mara+Schwartz

一直以來，是否主动放弃那些医学上被判无望的生命，始终是个尖锐的话题。其实，对生命的感悟永远是因人而异的。作者的母亲在两度中风后难有康复希望，然而就在陪伺至亲的看似绝望的日子里，作者不仅被母亲的坚强乐观所鼓舞，也在亲情与爱的光辉中心灵受洗，对生命的意义有了更多的思索。

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 “living 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： // 围困，包围；death squad： 处决小队，暗杀小组。

2. ward off： 避开。

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

/ 肺科医生。

4. beckon： 招手示意。

5. encroach： 侵占，侵蚀。

6. clad： 穿……衣服。

7. ethics： 伦理学。

8. stroke： 中风。

9. fortitude： 刚毅，坚忍。

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

11. conduct： 指挥；sing ones heart out： 充满感情地高唱。

12. Maestro： 音乐大师，此处指男高音多明戈。

13. errand： 任务，使命。

14. draining： 使人精疲力竭的。

15. rehab：（=rehabilitation）康复治疗；paraplegic： // 截瘫的；warfare： 战争，战乱。

16. sprinkle： 撒（粉末状物）；fairy dust： 仙尘。sprinkle fairy dust指施展魔法，来自《彼得·潘》中的一个情节，小飞侠彼得·潘给孩子们撒上仙尘后他们就能飞起来。

17. 一个奇怪的事实是：文化中的各个领域，如小说、电影、绘画、音乐、诗歌和宗教等，都充满着爱的主题，但在政治、经济、法律思维方面，甚至上升到哲学范畴，爱却都被边缘化，甚至被置于考量之外。be preoccupied with： 专注于，全神贯注于；marginalize：使边缘化，排斥；exile： 流放，放逐；sphere： 范围，领域。

18. forge： 缔结，达成。

19. New Testament： 《新约》，《圣经》分为《旧约》和《新约》两大部分，是以耶稣出生为界限；Socrates：苏格拉底（469BC—399BC），古希腊哲学家；Symposium：《会饮篇》，苏格拉底的学生柏拉图以对话形式写成的、探讨爱的本质的一部作品；Shakespeare： 威廉·莎士比亚（1564—1616），英国文学史上最杰出的戏剧家，也是西方文艺史上最杰出的作家之一；King Lear ：《李尔王》，莎士比亚著名的悲剧之一。

20. preeminently： // 显著地。

21. calculus： 此处=calculation。

22. disposable： 一次性的，用后丢弃的。

23. bedridden： 卧床不起的。

24. wrought： work的过去分词。

25. cost-benefit： 成本效益，一种经济决策方法，只有在收益大于成本时才会从事某项活动。

26. 沿着维护自身利益这个斜坡一路下滑，任何不以自身利益为目标的关爱方式事实上都被割除殆尽。selfenhancement： 自我提升；expunge：删除，除去。endprint