Shi Tiesheng

There are twelve wards in the neurology ward of Friendship Hospital. I have lived in all ten wards except No.1 and No.2. Of course, don't be proud of it. Even proud people, in my opinion, are humble when they go to bed. 1 and No.2 are critical rooms, where I step into the sky. God thinks it's too early for me to live there.

Nineteen years ago, my father helped me into that ward for the first time. At that time, I could still walk, which was hard and sad. At that time, I had a resolution: be good or die, and I will never come out like this again.

It's already noon. Except for the slight snoring of patients, the nurses' light footsteps are white everywhere, and the smell of medicine is floating in the sun, just like believers entering a temple. I feel hope. A female doctor took me to ward 10. She leaned close to my ear and asked softly, "Have you had lunch?" I said, "Do you think my illness can be cured?" She smiled. I don't remember how she answered, but when I remembered what she said, my father's brow relaxed slightly. After the female doctor left lightly, I have always retained a prejudice: women should be the most doctors, and white coats are their most elegant clothes.

It happened to be the day after my 2 1 birthday. I don't know much about medicine and fate. I wonder how much trouble it will be to get sick on the spinal cord. I lay down comfortably and had a good sleep. I thought: ten days, a month, well, even three months, and then I can be the same again. When my classmates who cut in line with me came to see me, they all thought so; They brought me many books.

There are six beds on the tenth. I'm in bed six. Wu Chuang is a farmer and looks forward to leaving the hospital every day. "The room alone is one dollar and fifteen cents a day. You can do the math," Wu Chuang said. "Is it worth dying for?" The third bed said, "Come on, hello, You're screwed.?" You are pessimistic if you cling to it. "Sichuang is an old man and said," Don't introduce yourself. Chairman Mao has something to say-when he comes, he will be safe. "The farmer turned to me with a smile, but he said to them," I dare say that you all have free medical care. "He knows that I am still combining with poor peasants and middle peasants. If one bed doesn't talk, one bed can leave the hospital as soon as it talks. Erchuang seems to be a person with some connections, and he has won everyone's awe with his gestures. Erchuang happily forgot all the nouns, including her own name. When Erchuang spoke, all the nouns were changed to "this" and "that", so he told some vigorous deeds but couldn't recognize who did it. The fourth bed said: "This is too good, no one can offend. "

I don't quarrel. The little comfort just now suddenly faded away. More than one yuan a day should be paid from my parents' salary, and a few yuan a day for medicine and meals should be paid from my parents' salary, not to mention that my family has been in debt to treat me. I immediately thought of the farmer's idea: when can I leave the hospital? I quickly loosened my fist to make it clear: this is a hospital, not a home. No one here will tolerate my losing my temper, and I have to pay for what I broke with my parents' salary. Fortunately, there are books around me, so after thinking about it, I still have to bury myself in the book, okay, even for three months! I believe in such a deadline for no reason.

But three months later, not only did I not leave the hospital, but my condition worsened.

At that time, I lived with bed two until the seventh. The second bed is really unusual. He is a director, a tenth-level cadre, but there is still a first-level cadre. Those who are not above Grade 10 have no chance to live in a single room in Gao Qian ward. No.7 is the only room with only two beds in this general ward, which is closest to a single room, so it has always been lived by people closest to the tenth level. It is said that a 13 grade just went out from here. The second bed is just right. What about me? The head nurse said that "children love reading" and asked me to remember the nouns again for Bed Two. "Look, he can't even tell who he is." The head nurse said. But Erchuang is becoming more and more popular, because the name "director" has also been forgotten, and our relationship is becoming more and more equal and harmonious. One day he asked me, "What do you do?" I said, "Cut in line." The second bed said that his "that" is the same, and both "that" are the same. He pointed to the place half a head taller than him: "Those are the two, I raised them myself." "You mean your two sons?" He is right, son. He said, wow, the revolution should not be afraid of hardship, but should be combined. He said, "That's where we came from." I said, "The countryside?" "Yes, yes. What? " "rural areas." "Go to the countryside on the right. Do not forget your roots! " I said yes. I said, "Where is your hometown?" So he held his head and thought for a long time. I can't remind him this time. Finally, he scolded and gave up, saying, "I also let that thing go." He stretched out two fingers on his head. "Is it a cow?" He shook his head and pressed his hand down. "sheep?" "By the way, sheep. I let the sheep go. " He lay down, put his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling sweetly for a long time without saying a word. The doctor said that his illness was called "angular gyrus syndrome, called aphasia", which did not affect other memories, especially the distant past. I think the director is a director after all, and I will get sick. He suddenly sat up again: "My, hey, what's coming?" "The youngest son?" "Yes!" He jumped to the ground angrily and said, "that little thing, son of a bitch!" " "He said," he wants to combine. I said, ok, I support it. " He said, "He wrote for money and said he would do it." He pointed around, and I thought "that little thing" might be to build a medical station. He said, "OK, how much is it? I'll give it. But that gadget! " He walked angrily back and forth with his hands behind his back, then stopped and spread out his hands: "But he is going to get married there again! """In the countryside?" "Yes, the countryside." "With farmers?" "With the farmers." No matter according to my ideological consciousness at that time, or according to the propaganda and advocacy of newspapers and radio stations at that time, this is worthy of respect. "Root faction." I said enviously. "Mom made a pie!" He said, "But do you want to come back?" I'm a little confused now. Seeing that I was stunned, he stamped his foot again and added, "But do you still want revolution?" ! "Now I understand. No matter what revolution it is, Erchuang's honesty is gratifying.

Don't worry about the mysterious logic. The whole winter is almost over, but I can't walk in the yard with crutches. My legs are getting numb every day, and my muscles are shrinking irresistibly. That's what I need to worry about.

In fact, I was able to hold on until the 7th because the doctors and nurses sympathized with me. Because I am still so young, because I see a doctor at my own expense, because doctors and nurses have understood that my disease prospect is extremely bad, and because I love reading-in that era of "the more knowledge, the more reactionary", doctors and nurses are particularly like a child who loves reading. They all treat me like a child. Many of their children are also cutting in line. The head nurse praised me several times in front of my mother, and finally always said, "Alas, this child ……", showing the helplessness of modern medicine. They have no other way to help me, just let me live a better life, be quiet and read books-they may think that maybe there is a way to "this child" in the book.

But I have lost interest in reading. Lying in bed all day, listening to all kinds of footsteps passing by the door; I hope they stop, push the door and come in. I hope they will never stop, go your way and leave me alone. Pray in a desolate and cold heart: God, if you don't take me back, leave me my walking leg! I really made a wish to the gods with my hands folded when no one was around. Many years later, I heard an unknown philosopher say: it is difficult to have an atheist while lying on my deathbed. Nowadays, it is not worth arguing whether there is a God, but at the chaotic point of fate, people will naturally ignore science and place a pious hope in nothingness. Just as the best yearning of mankind has not been actually verified so far, it will not disappear.

The doctor in charge comes to make rounds every day, and spends the longest time in front of my bed every day: "Well, don't worry." According to the rules, the director makes rounds once a week, but often several directors come to me: "How do you feel? Well, don't worry. " Some days, all the general practitioners come to see me, individually or collectively within 8 hours or more, check their opinions and say to me, "Don't worry, ok?" Don't worry. "From their careful conversation, I gradually understood one thing: if I get sick because of the tumor, find it, cut it and throw it into the trash can, I can still walk upright, otherwise I will probably lose the advantages that my ancestors have evolved for millions of years.

The small garden outside the window is already pink and green, and there is nothing like it in twenty-two springs. I dare not envy those healthy people walking among flowers and trees and young people playing badminton on the path. I remember seeing an old man wearing a hospital gown, pacing on the grass and basking in the sun a long time ago. That's it, that's what I think! As long as you can do this, that's enough! I recall the feeling of stepping on the soft grass. What's it like to go wherever you want? What's it like to kick a stone on the side of the road and take it with you? People who haven't recalled it like this won't believe it, but it can't be recalled! After the old man left, I still stared at the meadow. The sun faded slowly and condensed into a lonely red light, climbing up the wall and roof step by step ... I wrote an oblique poem: tapping on the small window to see the spring scenery and leaking into the sunset. In the future, I will swing my wheelchair to see the grass specially, and look at window 7 from there, wondering who lives behind the glass now? What kind of future will God choose for him? Of course, God doesn't need to ask his advice.

I prayed to God for a temporary joke-I had a benign tumor on my spine. Yes, it can grow in the spinal canal, but it must grow outside the meninges, so that it can be peeled off without damaging that precious spinal cord. "Right, doctor?" "Who told you that?" "Right?" The doctor said, "However, it doesn't look like a tumor." I used my eyes to write "God bless" everywhere. I thought that maybe if I wrote these four words thousands of times, I could win God's mercy and turn it into a tumor and a benign tumor. Or simply a malignant tumor, the kind that can kill you, no problem. For god's sake, it's always a tumor!

My friend gave me a bag of lotus seeds. When I was bored, I picked up a few and soaked them in a bottle. I thought, do you want to bet on a wish? If they can germinate, my disease is just a tumor. But I have never dared to gamble with trepidation. Unexpectedly, all the lotus seeds germinated in a few days. I think, well, I bet, I think I tend to gamble. I think the tendency to gamble is actually equal to gambling. I think I can bet now-they will grow leaves! (This is obvious. ) I change water for them every day, move them to the west of the window sill in the morning, and then move them to the east in the afternoon to let them bask in the sun; For this reason, I grabbed the railing of the bed and walked on the windowsill. I walked a few meters and broke out in a sweat. I won't say anything about it. Nobody knows. Soon, they grow round leaves. "Circle" is another good omen. I waited on them more thoughtfully, sat back on the bed and looked at them with bated breath. I wake up at night and look at them in the moonlight: well, my luck is changing. Suddenly, I noticed the homonym of "Lotus" and "Pity", and respectfully thought: Is God finally going to pity me? I won't say these things, no one knows. Leaves grow out of the bottle, and idle people want to touch them, but I won't let them. They just touched each other, so I prayed twice in my heart. I won't say these things, and no one knows now. However, science won, and it repeatedly said that there was no tumor, no,no. Sure enough, God directly tampered with that slender spinal cord! On the day of finalization, I was as crazy as a wronged ghost, struggling to stand up and think, why can't I run once and show it to that heartless God? The consequences are simple. If you didn't fall to your death, you would understand: indeed, you can't be a god.

I lay in bed all day without saying a word. At first, my mind was completely blank, and then my mind was full of a dead word. Director Wang is here. That old lady, I will never forget her. There is also a head nurse. Eight years later, seventeen years later, I really fell ill at the door of death twice and was robbed by these two old ladies. ) I was lying against the wall, and Director Wang sat behind me for a long time without talking, and then said, not many words, to the effect that I'd better read. Don't you like reading? Don't live in vain as long as you live. In the future, when you are working, you are too busy to have any time at all, and you will regret that this time has been wasted. Of course, these words can't dispel my dead thoughts, but they will be useful to my life. In the following years, I had a passion for death frequently, but I always remembered these words of Director Wang before I died, so I did something. There are many reasons why I didn't die (I wrote about it in another article). One of them is "Don't live a day in vain". I slowly do some things, and gradually have interest and value in life. One year I went to the hospital to see her and gave her my book. She is white-haired and retired, but she is busy in the hospital from morning till night as usual. I looked at her and thought, the old lady must know that I won't die, so she showed me a way out. But I don't know who first found a wire there after I moved out of No.7. What do you think of this? That's a secret. I don't need to tell it now. Suppose I really died then? I want to ask director Wang one day. I think she might say "If you really want to die, no one will care", or "If you can't find the value of living, you will want to die sooner or later", or "It's not a bad thing to want to die, so you can live more freely if you understand it", or "No, I can see that you were far away from death because you had so many good friends".

Friendship hospital-it's a good name. Tongren, Concord, Fraternity and Keats are also good names, but they are not as relaxed and intimate as friendship sounds. Maybe it's my prejudice. At the end of the 21st century, my leg betrayed me completely, and I didn't die, because of my friendship. Students who cut in line in the countryside kept writing letters, giving me advice and scolding both hard and soft, in order to arouse my courage to live; Students who return to Beijing will come to see me every visiting day, even on non-visiting days. "How did you get in?" "Well, close one eye and think about coming in later." This group of people who jump the queue can travel all over the north and south with a platform ticket, without worrying that they can't walk. I moved the plus sign at that time. The plus sign was not a ward, but there was a small stairwell, which was abandoned. There is only enough room for a bed in the rest of the room. Although it is as narrow as a chimney, it is a single room after all, and the situation is not as good as level 10, but it is not as good as level 11. This is also the painstaking efforts of doctors and nurses. Seeing that I have too many friends, it is inevitable that boys and girls will laugh and ignore it, which can neither affect others nor deprive me of happiness, so I was given a 9.5-level treatment. The window of the plus sign faces the street, and my bed is next to the window, where I spent the most enjoyable time in 21 years. Every morning I sit at the window and read quietly. I read many famous books and began to learn foreign languages with dignity. After noon, I looked straight at the street, paying special attention to the young cyclists and the stop of the No.5 bus, expecting my friends to come. I neglected death for a while. Friends come, bring books, bring news from outside, bring comfort and joy, bring new friends, new friends bring new friends, and then they all become old friends. In the following years, friendship has been expanding around me and in my heart. Close the door of the plus sign, we can laugh and curse freely, talk about everything in the world without scruple, and sing something softly when we are happy-folk songs in northern Shaanxi, or songs of educated youth who jump the queue. In the evening, my friends left, and under the quiet and noisy light of the small desk lamp, I began to want to write something, which was the initial germination of my creative desire. I forgot to die for a moment. What else is there? But also because the shadow of love is shaking vaguely. That shadow will shake in my heart for a long time, bringing happiness and pain to the future, especially passion, leading a desperate life out of the valley of death. Whether it is happiness or pain, it will become an eternal treasure and a sacred memorial.

Twenty-one, twenty-nine, thirty-eight, three times in and out of Friendship Hospital. I didn't die because of friendship. The last two times were not because I wanted to collude with death, but because death took an interest in me; I had a high fever of over 40 degrees, and my friend went to Friendship Hospital behind my back. The internal medicine department said that I had no experience in nursing paraplegic patients. Dr. Bai went to see Director Wang and Head Nurse Zhang, and I lived in the ward of God again. Especially when I was twenty-nine, I had a high fever and fell asleep and vomited all day. I dare not smell rice for almost three months. I only drink glucose through blood vessels, and my blood pressure is unstable. First, the low pressure rises to 120, and then the high pressure drops to 60. The doctors are worried that I won't survive that winter-the kidneys seem to be dying and the treatment seems to be hopeless. The classmates consulted Dr. Bai, and they went to see Dr. Tang together: Do you want to tell my father about this? They decided: no. Tell him he's in a hurry? Then they parted ways: my classmate and Dr. Bai were in charge of death, and they would explain to my father when I died; I'm still alive and well taken care of by Dr. Tang. Dr. Tang said, "Well, I left him here to teach. As long as he is alive, he must find a way. " It is really a pity that people should not die of ghosts and gods. I'm alive again after the winter, and it seems that I'm likely to live to the next century. Dr. Tang is the female doctor who took me to the 10 in those years, that is, the female doctor with light steps and gentle movements, but after eight years, she is as cold as ice. Nine years later, when I was hospitalized for the third time, Dr. Tang was gone. I heard that I came again, and all the old doctors and nurses in Cory came to see me, greeted me, praised my novel writing and told me about my family, but Dr. Tang couldn't come. I know she can't come. She left. I once sent her a small wreath in a wheelchair, and everyone said: She is exhausted, she must be exhausted! I will always remember the noon when she welcomed me into the ward. She leaned close to my ear and asked softly, "Have you had lunch?" Suddenly, what, she left? She is only in her early fifties. Really speechless. It always doesn't make sense. Someone must have made a mistake in logic.

I hope the fate of Dr. Bai's generation will be better. Actually, I only call her Dr. Bai when there are many patients. I usually call her Xiao Bai, and she calls me Xiao Shi. She called herself my "personal health care doctor" when she joked, but it didn't seem like a joke. This is close to the truth. In the last two years, I called her "Lao Bai" and she called me "Lao Shi". One late autumn nineteen years ago, a new military doctor came to the ward with a short braid, a long scarf and a pair of black corduroy shoes. Although he speaks authentic Beijing dialect, his face is full of local flavor. "You also cut in line?" I asked her. "You too?" I can hear you. She already knows. "Which session are you in?" "Second child, what about you?" "I'm 68, for god's sake. Where are you? " "Northern Shaanxi. Where are you? " "I am in Inner Mongolia." That's all. I understand that this greeting is the patent of our generation, and this question and answer immediately narrowed our distance. I expect this kind of dialogue will still be popular among some white-haired people after decades, and it will still be the most cordial greeting and the most effective way of communication between them; Linguists of later generations will take pains to research this and write papers carefully to get a degree. And how did our generation get a degree? I dropped out of school at the age of 14 or 15 and went to the countryside at the age of 17 or 18. After a few years, I returned to the city and got the most despised job. But what work can't I do after I stay in the countryside? At the same time, I studied hard in my spare time, and finally went to college. After graduation, I was despised by people-it's unfortunate that you are a student of workers, peasants and soldiers. You should try your best to take off this hat. This generation really has a lot of exams, and then I will use you. This is not the most bumpy road. "Xiao Bai" became "Lao Bai", and the hygienist became Dr. Bai. That's about it, I know, because we have been friends for many years. Her husband usually comes here and we are all friends. Even her son called me "Lao Shi". The most enviable thing about this "old history" is that it has always lived in friendship. Maybe it has something to do with my admission to Friendship Hospital at the age of 21.

So sometimes people say that I live in a paradise, with a little sarcasm in my tone, as if all this is for my own amusement, or even self-deception. I strongly disagree. I don't live in heaven, and I never believe in it. But I believe that there is a paradise in the world and such a source in the world. Without it, I'm afraid no one would want to live any longer. If this source is sometimes weak, in my opinion, at least ridicule can't make it stronger. For thousands of years, it has been regarded as a reality and a belief, and this has not stopped. It comes from the heart, then flows into the heart, it is given to the heart, and it is because of the heart that it can continue. If you want to be strong, what can you ask for by giving up your heart?

Some people say that I have been living in a fairy tale? There is both praise and warning in the tone. Praise and caution, which makes me convinced. Praise and warning do not mean that people should strengthen a line of defense, but remind me that the regret of fairy tales is not too beautiful, but needs to enter a more complicated and harsh world, and then be afraid of being too delicate.

In fact, at the age of twenty-one, God has reminded me so, and he has revealed his super fairy tales and eternal riddles to me.

I met a boy when I lived on the 4th. He is seven years old and lives in a remote mountain village. One day, it was said that there was a road to be built in front of his house, and the children were waiting and dreaming. The road was finally built and the car finally came. At the first sight of the car, the children looked at it from a distance, surprised and timid. After a long time, the children had a whim and found that they could ride majestically as long as they grabbed the tail of the truck. They lived happily behind their parents' backs. But once, only once, the seven-year-old boy accidentally fell off the car. When he was admitted to the hospital, he could no longer run and his limbs were atrophied. The ward is lonely, and the children are limping around; When Tao Tao went too far, his patient said, "How did you hurt yourself?" The child immediately lowered his head and stood still. "Say it?" "Say, because of what?" The child muttered something. "Hey, why don't you say? Forgot? " "Because of stealing a car," the child whispered, "because of being naughty." The child added. He sincerely admitted his mistake. Everyone was silent, but everyone knew that the child had injured the spinal cord, and this injury was irreversible. The child still dared not move, stood still and wiped his tears with a pair of shrinking little hands. Finally, someone spoke first, and the tone became sad and soft: "Will it be scouted next time?" The child is very familiar with such tolerance or forgiveness and immediately shakes his head: "No, no, no!" " At the same time a sigh of relief. But this time is different. Why didn't anyone promise him "Well, as long as you change, you are still a good boy"? He opened his eyes and saw every adult, meaning: not yet? Can't you not be naughty? He doesn't know, he still doesn't understand, there is a mistake in fate that can only be made once and there is no chance to correct it. Fate is not wrong, (such as being naughty, what is it? ) But this is unforgivable. The child's nickname is "Five Eggs". I remember him. He was only seven years old then. He doesn't know, and he still doesn't understand. One day he will know, but one day he will understand? But anyway, that day was the end of a fairy tale. At the end of all fairy tales, let's understand it this way: God will lay a cruel riddle in order to temper life.

When I lived on the 6th, I saw a couple. They were my present age at that time, forty years old. They are college classmates. When this man is twenty-four, he intends to study abroad. The date has been set and all his things are ready, but his fate is uncertain. I don't know why he put it off for a month. Only this month, he was paralyzed by a medical accident. The woman is infatuated with him, waiting for him, waiting for him to get better first, but can't wait; Then I waited for him and he agreed to marry her, but I still didn't wait. External and internal resistance, year after year, men are looking forward to her coming and persuading her to go. But year after year, illness and love can't escape, so the woman has been waiting. Once, she moved out of Beijing to work in other places, but it was not so simple to break off her feelings and transfer back to Beijing. As long as this woman has a three-day holiday, she will always go to Beijing. The man was even more ill at that time, and he couldn't move all over. He and I share a ward. After the woman left, the man said to me: If you love her, you can't hurt her unless you don't love her, but then why do you want to get married? The man fell asleep, and the woman said to me: I know he loves me, but he doesn't understand that this is actually hurting me. I really want to leave. I tried, but I couldn't. I know I can't help loving him. The woman left, and the man said to me: no, no, she is still young. She still has a chance. She wants to get married and can't live without love. The man fell asleep, and the woman said to me, but what is the opportunity? Opportunity is not outside, but inside. The opportunity to get married may be outside, but the opportunity to fall in love can only be in the heart. When the woman was away, I told the man what she said, and the man cried silently. I asked him, "Why can't you marry her?" He said, "You don't understand this." He said, "It's hard to say, because you live in the whole world." He said: "So, sometimes it is not two people who can decide." I really didn't understand at the time. I found an opportunity and asked the woman, "Why can't two people decide?" She said, "No, I don't think so." She said, "But yes, sometimes it's really hard." She pondered for a long time and said, "Really, I tell you, you don't understand now." Nineteen years later, those lovers should be old people by now. I don't know where they are now, but I heard that they broke up later. 19 years, I have experienced love myself. Now if a 2 1 year-old asks me what love is? Maybe I can only answer: really, this may never be clear. No matter what she is, it rarely belongs to language, but to the heart. Or San Mao, a writer in Taiwan Province Province, is right: Love is like Zen, you can't say it, you can't say it, and it's wrong to say it. At the end of a fairy tale, God gave us a cruel but tempting riddle to pursue life forever.

(ps: No, but this should be the original)