雙語·當呼吸化為空氣 車站保安走到我身邊

車站保安走到我身邊：“先生，您不能躺在這兒?！?br>A security guard approached. “Sir, you can’t lie down here.”

“抱歉，”我上氣不接下氣地吐出幾個字，“后……背……抽……痛?！?br>“I’m sorry,” I said, gasping out the words. “Bad. . . back. . . spasms.”

“你還是不能躺在這兒。”
“You still can’t lie down here.”

真的很抱歉，但我得了癌癥，要死了。
I’m sorry, but I’m dying from cancer.

這些話都到嘴邊了，但萬一我沒得呢？也許那些經(jīng)常背痛的人就是會有這樣的遭遇。我算是很了解背痛了：解剖學原理、生理學原理，還有病人們用來描述不同痛感的不同詞匯。但我從不知道背痛的感覺，也許就是這樣的，也許。又或許，我不想給自己添霉運，也許我就是不想把“癌癥”這兩個字說出口。
The words lingered on my tongue—but what if I wasn’t? Maybe this was just what people with back pain live with. I knew a lot about back pain—its anatomy, its physiology, the different words patients used to describe different kinds of pain—but I didn’t know what it felt like. Maybe that’s all this was. Maybe. Or maybe I didn’t want the jinx. Maybe I just didn’t want to say the word cancer out loud.

我努力站起來，蹣跚著走向月臺。
I pulled myself up and hobbled to the platform.