现代大学英语精读第二版（第二册）学习笔记（原文及全文翻译）——11B - A Doctor‘s Dilemma（一个医生的困境）

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Unit 11B - A Doctor's Dilemma

A Doctor's Dilemma

James Dillard

It was a bright, clear February afternoon in Gettysburg. A strong sun and layers of warm clothes did little to ease the biting cold. Our climb to the crest of Little Round Top took us to plain monuments, barren trees and polished cannon. From the top, we peered down on the wheat field where men had fallen so close together that one could not see the ground. Rifle balls had whined as thick as bee swarms through the trees, and cannon shots had torn limbs from the young men fighting there. A frozen wind whipped tears from our eyes. My friend Amy huddled close, using me as a wind breaker. Despite the cold, it was hard to leave this place.

Driving east out of Gettysburg on a country road, the gray car ahead of us passed through a rural crossroad just as a small pickup truck tried to take a left turn. The car swerved, but ran into the pickup on the passenger side. We immediately slowed down as we passed the scene. The driver of the car looked fine, but we couldn't see the driver of the pickup. I pulled over on the shoulder and got out to investigate.

The right side of the truck was smashed in, and the side window was shattered. The driver was partly out of the truck. His head hung forward over the edge of the passenger-side window, the front of his neck crushed on the shattered windowsill. He was unconscious and starting to turn blue. His chest slowly heaved against a blocked windpipe.

A young man ran out of a house at the crossroads. "Get an ambulance out here," I shouted against the wind. "Tell them a man is dying."

I looked down again at the driver hanging from the windowsill. There were six empty beer bottles on the floor of the truck. I could smell beer through the window. I knew I had to move him, to open his airway. I had no idea what neck injuries he had suffered. He could easily end up paralyzed. But I thought: he'll be dead by the time the ambulance gets here if I don't move him and try to do something to help him.

An image flashed before my mind. I could see the courtroom and the driver of the truck sitting in a wheelchair. I could see his attorney pointing at me and shouting at the jury: "This young doctor, with still a year left in his residency training, took it upon himself to play God. He took it upon himself to move this gravely injured man, condemning him forever to this wheelchair. ..." I imagined the millions of dollars in award money. And all the years of hard work lost. I'd be paying him off for the rest of my life. Amy touched my shoulder. "What are you going to do?"

The automatic response from long hours in the emergency room came to me. I pulled off my overcoat and rolled up my sleeves. The trick would be to keep his head up while I moved his body, so that his probable broken neck and spinal-cord injury wouldn't be made worse. Amy came around the driver's side, climbed half in and grabbed his belt and shirt collar. Together we lifted him off the windowsill.

He was still out cold, limp as a rag doll. His throat was crushed and blood was running down my arms. He still couldn't breathe. He was deep blue now, his pulse was rapid. The stench of alcohol turned my stomach, but I tried to blow air down his mouth into his lungs. It wouldn't go.

Amy had brought some supplies from my car. I opened a large needle and felt the man's neck. My hands were numb, covered with freezing blood and bits of broken glass. I was trying to find the thyroid gland. OK, it was about there... we'll go in right here...

It was a lucky first shot. Pink air sprayed through the needle. I placed a second needle next to the first. The air began whistling through it. Almost immediately, the driver's face turned bright red. After a minute, his pulse slowed down and his eyes moved slightly. I stood up, took a step back and looked down. He was going to make it. He was going to live. A siren wailed in the distance. I turned and saw Amy holding my overcoat. I was shivering and my arms were turning white with cold.

"The ambulance captain looked around and shouted, "What the hell... who did this?", as his team hurried over to the man lying in the truck.

"I did," I replied. He took down my name and address for his reports. I had just destroyed my career. I would never be able to finish my residency training if the man put the law on me. My life was over.

The truck driver was strapped onto a backboard, his neck in a stiff collar. The ambulance crew had controlled the bleeding and began giving him a drip. He was slowly waking up. As they loaded him into the ambulance, I saw him move his feet. Maybe my future wasn't lost.

A police sergeant called me from Pennsylvania three weeks later. Six days after successful treatment on his throat, the driver left the hospital against medical advice, because he couldn't get a drink on the ward. He was being charged with drunk-driving.

A few days later, I went into the office of one of my senior professors, to tell the story. He peered over his half glasses and his eyes narrowed. "Well, you did the right thing medically of course. But, James, do you know what you put at risk by doing that?" he said sternly. "What was I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Drive on," he replied. "There is an army of lawyers out there who would stand in line to get a case like that. If that driver had turned out to be paralyzed, you might never have practiced medicine again. You were a very lucky young man."

The day I graduated from medical school, I took an oath to serve the sick and the injured. I remember truly believing I would be able to do just that. But I have found out it isn't so simple. I understand now what a foolish thing I did that day. Despite my oath, I know what I would do on that cold roadside near Gettysburg today. I would drive on.

参考译文——一个医生的困境

一个医生的困境

詹姆斯·迪拉德

那是在葛底斯堡一个明媚晴朗的二月的下午，强烈的阳光和厚厚的衣服也没法减轻这刺骨的寒冷。为爬到“小圆顶”山的山顶，我们绕过庄严的纪念碑、光秃秃的树木和已磨光的大炮。从顶部向下望去，可以看到下面的麦田。麦田里曾经是密密麻麻的尸体，以至于无法看到地面。步枪子弹曾像蜂群一样穿梭在丛林中，炮弹曾把战斗中年轻士兵们的四肢炸得纷飞。一阵冷风吹得我们流下了眼泪，我的朋友艾米把我当作她的挡风屏，紧紧地靠在我的身旁。尽管很冷，我们却不愿离开这个地方。

从葛底斯堡出来，我们沿着一条乡村的柏油路向东行驶。在我们前边，有一辆灰色的小汽车穿过一个乡村的十字路口，一辆小货车正好左转弯。小汽车赶紧改变方向，但还是撞上了小货车载有乘客的一侧。我们当即刹车缓缓驶过事故现场。驾驶小汽车的人看起来还好，但是我们没看到小货车司机。我把车停到紧急停车道上，下车去查看情况。

小货车的右边被撞穿了，侧面的窗户也碎了。司机身体的一部分在车外边，他的头悬在副驾驶座那边的窗户上，脖子前部挤在破碎的窗沿儿上。他已经失去了知觉，脸色也渐渐变得发青，呼吸受阻，他的胸膛慢慢起伏着。

一个年轻人从十字路口那边的一所房子里跑了出来。“快叫救护车来！”我顶着风大喊道，“告诉他们这里有人快死了。”

我又向下看了看头悬在车窗上的司机。在卡车底板上有六个空啤酒瓶，透过窗户我可以闻到酒味。我知道我必须要将他移动一下，打通他的气道。我不知道他的脖子伤得怎么样，他很可能会四肢瘫痪。但是我想如果我不移动一下他并帮他做点什么的话，他就会在救护车到来之前死掉的。

一幅画面闪过我的脑海。我仿佛看到在一个法庭上，这名卡车司机坐在轮椅上，他的律师指着我，对陪审团大声说道：“这个年轻的医生，还有一年的实习期，却自以为是，擅作主张。他擅自移动了这个伤得很重的人，使他永远无法摆脱轮椅……”我想象着我被判罚几百万美元的补偿金，这么多年来的辛苦工作都白费了，还要用我的余生来偿还他。这时，艾米碰了碰我的肩膀说：“你打算怎么办？”

长时间在急诊室的自然反应使我知道要怎么做。我脱下外套，挽起袖子。诀窍是在移动他的身体的时候，要保持他的头向上抬起，这样他可能已经断了的脖子和受伤的脊髓就不会二次受伤。艾米来到了司机旁边，探了半个身子进去，抓住了他的腰带和衬衫领子。我们一起把他从窗沿儿上抬了出来。

他仍然处于昏迷状态，浑身冰凉，像个布娃娃瘫软在那里。他的喉咙伤得很严重，鲜血从他颈部的血管淌到了我的胳膊上。他仍然呼吸困难，脸色青得发紫，脉搏也跳得很快。酒精的恶臭让我反胃，但我还是尽量透过他的嘴往他的肺里吹些空气。但是效果不大。

艾米从我的车里拿来了一些应急物品。我拿出一个大号的静脉针，在他的脖子上寻找可以注射的地方。我的手沾满了被冻住的鲜血和玻璃碎片，都麻木了。我尽力寻找他的甲状腺……好的，甲状腺可能在那里……就从这里注射吧……

很幸运，第一针扎得很成功，粉色的气流从针里散漫开来。我在旁边又扎了一针，气流在针中嗖嗖作响。很快这位司机的脸色变得红润起来。一分钟后，他的脉搏慢了下来，眼睛也微微动了一下。我站了起来，向后退了一步，低头看他。他快挺过来了，快活过来了。远处响起了救护车的声音，我回头看到艾米正拿着我的外套。我在发抖，我的胳膊也冻得发白。

救护队疾步跑向躺在卡车上的那个人，救护车的车长看了看周围，大喝道：“见鬼！这是谁干的？”

“我干的！”我说。他在他的报告上记下了我的名字和住址。我刚刚毁了自己的职业生涯，如果那名司机起诉我的话，我永远不能完成我的实习了。我的人生毁了。

卡车司机被固定在脊椎矫正板上，他的脖子被套上了一个颈托。救护人员已经控制了他的出血状况并开始给他输液。他渐渐醒来。当他们把他放在救护车上时，我看见他的脚动了一下。也许我还没失去我的未来。

三周后，一位宾夕法尼亚的警官给我打来电话。说是在喉咙重建手术成功完成的六天后，那名司机就不顾医生的建议出院了，因为在病房里他不能喝酒。他被指控酒后驾车。

几天后，我去了大四时的一位教授的办公室，并把这件事告诉了他。他眯着眼睛透过他那只剩一半的镜片看了会儿，严肃地说：“嗯，当然从医学上来说你做得很对。但是，詹姆斯知道你那样做冒着多大的风险吗？”“我应该怎么做？”我问他。

“继续朝前开，”他回答说，“有很多律师排队等着类似的案件发生。如果那名司机从此四肢瘫痪，你可能从此就与医务工作无缘了。年轻人，你很幸运！”

从医学院毕业的那天起我就发誓要为病者和伤者服务。我清楚地记得，也坚信我能做得到。但是我发现事情并没有那么简单，我现在才明白那天我做了一件多么愚蠢的事情。现在，如果我再行驶在葛底斯堡那条寒冷的小道上的话，我知道该怎么做了，我会继续朝前开，尽管我曾有过那样的誓言。

Key Words:

investigate [in'vestigeit]

v. 调查，研究

[计算机] 研究

rifle ['raifl]