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一个14岁高中生的甘肃日记

(2010-01-05 15:51:46) 下一个

2009 年 7 月 5 日 ,星期日

我从来没有像这样在第一次见面时便得到他人的信任和感激。在最初遇到这些甘肃老乡的时候,我也从来没有想过他们会以如此灿烂的笑容和热情欢迎我的到来。虽然我的 ` “天使心”的旅程刚刚开始,但已有了一家人的感觉,感受到了将志愿者们和那些甘肃病童家庭连接起来的那份爱和信任。乡亲们热情地和几分钟前还是陌生人的我握手。他们不再是电脑上照片中陌生的面孔。他们从与现实隔离的电子文件夹中走出来,而我,开始了解他们的名字,笑容,和故事。

3 岁的MJ是一个特别快乐的小女孩,喜欢笑着重复人们对她说的话。人们都说她是一个爱笑的孩子。当她用一句阳光的“你好”来迎接所有的人,有时还伴一个“谢谢”的时候,你很难不以笑容回应。二月份听到她手术成功后,我们心中的大石头终于落了下来。几个月来,她恢复得很好。

来到 “ 天使心 ” 定西工作站的任务不仅仅是与已痊愈的孩子们交流和他们复查,同时会与等待治疗的孩子们的家长接触,他们来到这里希望可以监测自己孩子的情况。刘医生让我听了孩子们的心跳。每当我听到一次心脏的跳动,我都感觉那像一阵风吹过的声音。我曾经学过心脏的杂音,还考过这方面的试,但对我而言,它一直显得那么不真实。直到我真正听到从这些孩子们的身体里传出来的杂音,我才意识到我在书中不经意掠过的术语是如何在威胁这些孩子的未来。

LNN是一个心脏有严重杂音的七岁女孩。她的母亲告诉我们,仅管如此,她依旧很爱活动,并且成绩在年级名列前茅。当她的母亲夸奖她时,她双颊绯红,非常害羞。这是我第一次看到她脸上的阴霾褪去。

中午,赠送礼品的环节将聚会推向尾声。刚开始,只有年龄稍大一点的孩子走近我们志愿者们,看着桌上的书本和学习用品,但不久,越来越多的孩子们含着微笑,带着惊奇的目光向我们走来。他们收到礼品时感激的眼神和兴奋的神情不知是使我感到欣喜还是惆怅。他们收到了过冬的衣物,书籍和学习用品,虽说不各色具备,但是从他们脸上挂着的笑容中我能读懂:就连这么简陋的馈赠也已是孩子们收到过的最贵重的礼品了。

在志愿者们,医护人员与病人及家属交流的过程中,我看到我的姐姐与LXH紧紧相拥,这个小女孩去年才做了手术。虽然那时她们仅接触了非常短暂的一段时间,但是XH康复的过程以及天使心给予她的希望将她们紧密地连接在了一起,亲如家人一般。当时我的姐姐陪着XH度过了整个手术和恢复过程,现在她俩成为了永远的朋友。我情不自禁地联想到自己在这里也有了很多可以在下次迎接我的朋友,我可以像姐姐一样拥抱他们。

聚会散去后,天使心的志愿者们接着去探访甘肃农村的三个家庭。每户人家都要在弯曲的路上开数小时,而沿路极其荒凉,除了崎岖不平的道路和灰尘,什么也没有。说空中的尘土像云一般扬起都不能描述当时的情况,似乎这尘土是空气的一部分,覆盖着沿路的农舍。我看到三个男孩在路边玩着破布条,我仅能透过厚重肮脏的尘土看到他们的轮廓。

通往探访家庭的小径又长又陡峭。我们所有的人都走得气喘吁吁,同时心中纳闷,那些心脏有问题的孩子们他们如此脆弱的心脏怎么能负荷长此往返于连我们正常人都感到筋疲力竭的陡峭的山道上。

走到小径的尽头,我们看到 17 岁的 MJL 正站在他家的屋前等待“天使心”的来访者。他恭迎着每个志愿者,双手紧握着我们的手说道:叔叔,阿姨,欢迎你们!我很惊讶自己受到如此高的礼遇,而他仅比我长两岁。他的真诚和热情深深地感动了我们所有人。

MJL 的家非常简陋。在他的床铺上方屋顶有一块防水帆布罩着,这是防止在他睡觉时有雨水滴在他的脸上,而在屋内其他部位的上方就没有防水布了。床的上方悬挂着一副御寒用的耳套,父亲解释说这里夜间非常寒冷,如果不用耳套,惟恐冷空气将双耳冻伤。

我还注意到这家人的布鞋上都是洞。

我询问 MJL 上几年级,他简单地回答道:“六年级”。离他家最近的学校走路过去也非常远,得翻山越岭,有些障碍物甚至是难以逾越的。由于他的身体虚弱和家境贫穷,获得良好的教育对他来说是天方夜谭。

接下来我们遇见了ZLN,她是一个年龄与我相仿的女孩。虽然她很害羞,但比起 MJL 来说已经很健谈了。他们两者都具备顽强的意志力,并且对前途充满了期望。

在我们离开之前将笔盒和笔记本赠与她时,她眼里充满了感激的泪水并且感动得说不出话来。李博士告诉我:甘肃的孩子们收到礼物很高兴并不仅仅是因为他们获得了礼品,而是因为他们没有想到从富裕家庭走出来的我们会关心他们,关注他们。当我身边的同龄人都期盼着在甚至不重要的日子获得礼物时,甘肃的百姓们都在为如何生存和养家糊口而担忧,在教育方面的差别塑造了我们完全不同的人生观,价值观。如果有人送给ZLN一个 IPod ,这对她而言毫无价值。我们给她的是很多美国小孩都视为负担的接受教育的机会。

尽管如此,我从来没有看到过有人因为收到一份礼物而如此开心。而我,也从来没有因为送出一份礼物如此快乐过。

2009 年 7 月 6 日 ,星期一

我一生中第一次看到了心脏的跳动。

多少年来我在看电影和电视时都避免观看银幕上做手术的画面, 而这次,我是站在手术台上亲眼观看手术过程。这次的手术将会该改变一个名叫WT的孩子的一生,他事前被诊断出室间隔缺损。整整三个小时,李博士和我们这些志愿者目不转睛地看着 “ 甘肃省人民医院 ” 的外科医生如何修补WT的心脏,整个过程进行得非常顺利。

当我们离开手术室,一眼便看到WT的父母亲在门外焦灼地等待着。李博士急忙上前告诉他们手术十分成功。他们不久就能见着孩子了,WT的父母立即上前紧握李博士的双手,感激之情油然而生,脸上露出了轻松和幸福的笑容。

随后我们“天使心”一行来到医院探访来复查的孩子们。由于是近距离的接触,我对MRY和MJ有了进一步的了解。我们帮他们拍了照片并且拿给他们看,他们和他们的父母都高兴地笑了。刚刚开始蹒跚学步的他们,指着照片中的自己大喊着各自的名字。MJ,一个非常调皮的孩子,手舞足蹈地转着圈叫喊着“哎呀呀”!MRY较MJ寡言许多,一副害羞的模样,她总是张着一双又圆又大的眼睛看着我们。在她母亲的暗示下和MJ充满活力的笑声中,她也渐渐露出了笑容。她的微笑对于我们来说同样具有感染力。

在我们即将离开医院时,一个名叫NHX的小姑娘对我们说 “ 再见,姐姐 ” 。她微微地向我们鞠躬,脸上绽放出灿然的笑容。当我在想她是怎样使唇间的笑容在眼中继续蔓延时,我们唯一自然的回应是报以同样的微笑。

2009 年 7 月 7 日 ,星期二

李 博士情绪低落面带倦容走进医院,他告诉我们NHX的检查结果不容乐观。她的心脏状况太过复杂,所以做手术会有很大的风险,就目前她的心脏破损情况手术成功率仅为 10% 。

天使心的志愿者在一起吃晚饭时李博士说:就在昨天,我心里还是充满了欢笑和希望,然而今日,我感到我的心是那么地疲惫和忧郁。自从早上得知NHX的消息后,李博士就一直在考虑如何向NHX的父母解释他们女儿心脏的修复希望是多么渺茫,这也意味着他们女儿的生命不久将走向尽头。如果对NHX施行手术,医生们不能预测她是否能恢复健康,像现在这样充满活力,是否还能继续在母亲身边撒欢。

李 博士对我们说:“我们应该珍惜和尽情享受每一天。因为无人可以预测,将来某一天或许没人可以掌控的事情可以改变一切。”

我生平第一次为 听到他人发自肺腑的话语而流泪了。我哭泣,是为了一个 11 岁的妙龄女孩,是为了她的家庭明早将听到不幸的消息。

2009 年 7 月 8 日 ,星期三

我和“天使心”的同伴们坐在HX的床边,兴致勃勃地倾听她谈论乡间的茅舍。与此同时,李博士和医生们正在与HX的父母亲交谈。当HX谈及家门口那巨大而挺拔的树木时,她的眼睛是如此的明亮,笑容又是如此的灿烂。她不明白为什么这么多有钱人住在拥挤不堪、熙熙攘攘的城市中。蜗居在沉闷而乏味的高层建筑里,倒不如住在空气清新的乡间那般惬意。她还谈到她的猫,那只可爱的猫从来不负众望,总能扑捉到老鼠并将它们带回家来。我们开玩笑地说美国的猫很懒惰,从来都是老鼠追它,而不是它追老鼠。海雄开怀大笑,问到:那为什么还要劳神养猫?她那可爱的性格惹得我们跟着大笑。

HX讲述她的父亲为了全家人的生计整日疲于奔命,谈到她的父亲不停地辛勤劳作养家糊口时,她哽咽了。她继续着她的故事,同时静静地用床单擦干了眼泪。 她的现实与我们在美国的安逸生活相比,有着如此的天壤之别,以至于这样一个患有心脏病的十一岁女孩,在讲述压抑着他们家的贫穷以及她父亲的千辛万苦时,能够用她坚强的精神力量抑制住她的眼泪。

HX的父母回到病房时,她微笑着问妈妈: “ 你怎么又哭了 ” ,边说边轻轻地擦拭着妈妈的脸颊,虽然那上面的泪水早已干枯。她的母亲抱以一个苦涩的笑容,然后扶起HX帮她梳理头发。虽然她不知道检查的结果到底是什么,但从母亲的神情中她猜想可能不如人意。然而,HX只是给了一个大大的笑容和几句安慰她母亲的话语,和需要的人分享他的力量。

这天即将结束时,我们将NHX一家留在了病房。HX随即跟着我们来到了院办公室,与我紧挨着,饶有兴趣地凝视着放在我们面前的手提电脑。我向她展示美国“三藩市动物园”里各类动物的照片。当她看到屏幕上幻灯片里变化中的动物时,明亮的眼神中充满了好奇和兴奋。很明显,大多数的动物她都没见到过,甚至连名字都未曾听说过。在银幕中出现老虎、大猩猩、红鹤时,她情不自禁地用手指点着,比划着。我们一起将幻灯片中所有的动物一一道出它们的名字,直到HX的母亲叫她回到病房,我们互道再见。也许某一天,HX回到了乡村,她会告诉她的同伴们什么是老虎,什么是河马。

我的甘肃之行在这里结束了。但我作为“天使心”志愿者的经历才刚刚开始。我在这里见到的人,同他们一起经历的事,让我意识到“天使心”救助的患儿和你我一样是真实的人,有着真实的人生,也让我更加认识我自己。在这里我学到的和记住的许许多多,给了我力量让我重塑 我的 信念和价值。

人生的旅程上会有你无法预料的障碍和困难,有时这些障碍和困难是你无法避免的。人生会有这样的时刻:在你尽了全力后,却仍无力回天。此时,你唯一的应对是活出你想活的生活,寻求我们在人生中做的每一件事背后的意义 。 无论你是一个工程师,或是一个攻读学位的大学生,还是一个求学的中学生 ,都应 问一问你自己 , 为什么做你现在在做的事情。如果你不能回答这个问题,那你应该重新思考你的价值观和你的人生追求目标。人应当这样活着 — 在生活给你的诸多可能中,它会是你唯一的选项;若上天给了你重活一次的机会,它仍是你不变的选择。

这里我也许听起来像个唠叨的学究, 但我实在找不到其他文字能描述我在甘肃学到的 一切。 那 是 从 一个 3 岁和 一个 11 岁的孩子身上所学到的, 是 我之前 14 年的学校生活和学习生涯中所没有学到的。

这些孩子教给我真诚,教给我希望,教给我一个爱的一生。



July 5, 2009 Sunday

I have never been so trusted and appreciated by people I met for the first time.  In my initial encounter with the people of Gansu, I had never expected the smiles and the welcome they gave me.  My time with Angel Heart had just begun, yet already I shared the feeling of family, trust, and love that bonded the volunteers and the Gansu families.  I was given smiles and handshakes by people I, just moment earlier, had thought of as strangers.  But they weren’t strangers.  They were no longer just the anonymous faces frozen in the photos on my computer; they had left the detached reality that categorized their lives in electronic file folders, and I began to learn their names, their smiles, and their stories.

Ma Juan, a particularly cheerful three-year-old girl, loved to laugh as she repeated words that people said to her.  It was difficult not to smile as the child greeted everyone with a bright “Hello” and even an occasional “Thank you” too.  It was a relief to hear that her surgery a few months ago in February, as well as her recovery, was a success.

But it was not just the recovered children meeting with Angel Heart for check-ups; there were also families awaiting treatment who arrived to monitor their child’s condition.  Doctor Liu had me listen to their heartbeats, and I could hear the distinct sound of what seemed like wind blowing each time I heard a pulse.  I had learned of murmurs—had taken tests on the subject, but nothing about it had seemed real until I heard them coming from the hearts of these young children and realized how that the term that I had carelessly skimmed over in my textbooks was threatening the futures of these children.

Liu Ning Ning, a seven year old, had a strong murmur as a result of her condition.  Her mother told us that even so, the young girl enjoyed moving around, and she was ranked first in her school class.  That one moment as Ning Ning flushed with mortification at her mother’s words was the only time I saw her features stray away from the sullen, forlorn expression she donned.

The gathering was concluded at noon with a giveaway for the children and their families.  At first, only the older children approached us volunteers to look at the books and school supplies on the table, but soon, more and more of the children approached us as well, with smiles on their faces and wonder in their eyes.  It was difficult to decide whether seeing their grateful and elated expressions as they received the simple gifts brought me joy or sorrow.  They were given clothes for the winter, books, and school supplies—not a very grand assortment of hand-outs, but the smiles on their faces told me that, perhaps, our humble gifts to them had been the greatest they’d ever received. 

As the volunteers and doctors mingled with the families and children, my sister embraced Lan Xiao Hua, a young girl who had received surgery last year.  They had only met for a short time last year, but the process of recovery and the hope that Angel Heart had given Xiao Hua brought them together, and it made them family.  When my sister stayed and watched through Xiao Hua’s operation, the two had become everlasting friends.  I could not help but wonder at the realization that I, too, now have friends here in Gansu to greet on my next visit, and whom I could embrace as my sister had.

After the conclusion of the gathering, Angel Heart volunteers proceeded to visit the houses of three families in the countryside of Gansu.  The roads stretched for hours at a time, and they were nothing but dirt lanes, unpaved and bumpy.  To say that the dust rose in clouds would be a sore understatement of the truth; the dust seemed to be a part of the air itself, blanketing the houses that bordered the path.  I saw children—three young boys—playing tag by the roadside, but I could only see their silhouettes through the thick curtain of filth. 

The climb up the mountain pathway was long and arduous.  All around me, I could hear the volunteers panting for breath and wondering how a child with heart disease could walk such a steep trail when even we were on the brink of exhaustion. 

In front of the entrance to the house at the end of the trail, we were greeted by Ma Jin Rong, the 17-year-old boy that Angel Heart had come to visit.  He bowed as each of passed, shook our hands with both of his and said, “Welcome, Auntie/Uncle.”  I was surprised to be addressed so respectfully as he is two years older than I am, but I was touched by his sincerity and by the warm welcome that he gave us all. 

Their home is a simple one, and the ceiling above the bed had a tarp draped over it to prevent the rain from reaching them as they slept; the rest of the ceiling did not have the extra cover.  My dad told me that the pair of ear muffs I saw hanging on a string over their bed was used for extra warmth during the icy winter lest the frigid air give their ears frostbite during the night.

The family’s thin cloth shoes were covered with holes.

When asked what school grade he was in, Ma Jin Rong stated simply, “6th grade.”  The nearest school is likely a long walk off from his home, and the mountain’s steep declivity was an enormous obstacle in his path—a nearly impassible barrier.  Because of his condition and his family’s poverty, education became something difficult for him to obtain.

Later, as we met with Zhu Li Na, a girl my own age, she seemed to be more talkative than Ma Jin Rong, although she had that same shy, yet stoic, demeanor.  Their strength, and their hope, was made them alike.

When we handed Zhu Li Na a pencil case and notebook before we left, she accepted them with tears in her eyes, showing her thanks when she could not voice the words through the rush of emotion.  Doctor Lee had told me before that the children of Gansu received gifts in happiness not only because of the joy in attaining the gifts themselves, but also because they had not expected us—whom they knew of as the upper class—to care for them and to notice them.  While many of the people I know and grew up around wish for, and even expect, gifts for even the most minor of occasions, the citizens of Gansu spent their worries on survival and earning enough money to support their family, and this difference in upbringing had shaped our values, and us, into such different entities.  If someone had given Zhu Li Na an iPod, it would hardly have meant anything to her.  What we gave her was a chance at education, something that many children in America think of as a burden. 

And yet, I’d never seen anyone so happy to receive a gift…and I’d never been so glad to give one.

 

July 6, 2009 Monday

I watched a heart beat for the first time.

After years of avoiding any movies or television shows that featured scenes of surgical operations, I watched one in person.  This operation was one that would change the life of the child, Wang Tao, who was diagnosed with ventricular septal defect.  For three hours, Doctor Lee and we volunteers watched as the devoted surgeons of the People’s Hospital of Gansu mended the hole in Wang Tao’s heart, and his operation proceeded smoothly.

When we left the operation room, Wang Tao’s parents were waiting by the entrance of the hospital, and Doctor Lee assured them that the surgery was successful, and that they would be able to visit their son soon.  Their smiles glowed with relief and happiness, and they clasped Doctor Lee’s hands in gratitude.

In visiting the children receiving Angel Heart’s care later at the hospital, I was able to get to know Ma Ruo Ying and Ma Juan more.  We volunteers took pictures of the two and showed them the photos, laughing along with them and their parents as the toddlers pointed at themselves and declared their names.  Ma Juan, playful and ebullient, danced in circles with excited cries of “Ai ya ya!” before settling down in her father’s lap, only to jump up once more to dance.  Ma Ruo Ying was more timid, and she watched us with large, round eyes.  She was reluctant to smile, only flashing a brief grin once at the prompt of her mother, and another at Ma Juan’s exuberant laughter, but her smile was a contagious thing that had us chuckling as well.

As we left the hospital room, a young girl named Niu Hai Xiong said to us, “Bye, big sisters.”  She gave us a small bow and smiled brightly, and as I wondered at how the smile seemed to reach her eyes as well as her mouth, it became only natural for us all to grin back as well.

 

July 7, 2009 Tuesday 

Doctor Lee entered the hospital room with a tense and exhausted expression, and he told us that the results had gone well.  Niu Hai Xiong’s heart condition is too complicated to risk surgery; her condition is so severe that her surgery success rate is only 10%. 

At a dinner gathering of Angel Heart volunteers, Doctor Lee spoke of how the previous day had been full of laughter and hope, and how this day, his spirit was weary and somber.  Ever since the news of Niu Hai Xiong’s condition in the morning, he had spent the day wondering how he would tell Niu Hai Xiong’s parents that the odds of a successful recovery were slim—that their daughter would only have a few years left to live.  If Hai Xiong were to undergo surgery, the doctors would not be able to predict whether she would ever be able to regain the same liveliness that she had at the moment, while she is able to take walks around with her mother. 

“We need to savor every moment and cherish each day,” Doctor Lee told us.  “There is no predicting when things that no one can control might change everything we know.”

And for the first time, I cried at the truth of another’s words, and I cried for the 11-year-old girl and the family who had would have to hear them the next morning. 

 

July 8, 2009 Wednesday

As Doctor Lee and the hospital doctors met with Niu Hai Xiong’s parents, I sat with two fellow volunteers of Angel Heart by Hai Xiong’s bedside, and we listened as she told us about her home on the countryside.  Her eyes and smile were bright as she spoke about a particular tree by her house—one that she said was the most beautiful and enormous tree there could ever be.  She explained how the crowded and bustling city with its dreary buildings could never be as beautiful as the countryside, no matter how more money the people living in the city had.  And she told us about her cat, who never failed to catch mice and rats and bring them back to their home.  We joked about the lazy cats in America, and how many would be more likely to be chased by rats than be the chaser.  She laughed at that and asked us why people bothered keeping cats like that, and her lively personality had us laughing with her.

When Hai Xiong began to tell us about the hard work that her father toiled away at for the sake of earning money to support the family, and how their poverty kept him constantly at work, her voice began to waver.  She wiped her tears silently on her bed sheet and continued her story.  How different her reality was from our own sheltered one in America, that an 11-year-old girl with heart disease would be able to hide her tears with her sheer strength of spirit as she spoke of the poverty that plagued her family and the toll that it took on her father.

When her parents returned, Hai Xiong asked her mother with a small smile, “How come you’ve cried again?” and wiped her mother’s cheek, though there were no tears there.  Her mother just returned a sad smile and propped Hai Xiong up to brush her hair.  Niu Hai Xiong had anticipated the condemning results of her check-up without the words being told to her directly; she had prepared for the worst, and she accepted the truth with a smile and a word of comfort for her mother, sharing her strength with those who needed it.  

As the day passed by after we left Niu Hai Xiong’s family to their privacy, Hai Xiong came into our office room and sat next to me, staring quizzically at the laptop screen before us.  I showed her pictures that I took of various animals at the San Francisco Zoo, and her eyes seemed to lighten up as she watched the slideshow of animals float by the screen, excited and curious.  Yet the majority of the animals were ones that she had never seen, nor heard of before, and she pointed, quizzically, at the screen when pictures of tigers, gorillas, and flamingos appeared on the monitor.  And so we named all of the animals together until the end of the slideshow when her mother came by to accompany Hai Xiong back to her resting room, and we said our goodbyes. Maybe now, when she returns to the countryside, she will be able to tell them that she has seen what a tiger and hippopotamus are.

And so my trip to Gansu came to a close, but my experiences as an Angel Heart volunteer will not end here.  The people I met and the moments I shared with them have made me realize more about Angel Heart’s patients as people, and more about myself along the way.  There have been countless lessons taught—and remembered—here, and they gave me the power to reshape my thoughts and values.

There is no way to know when an obstacle you never expected could be thrown into your path, and sometimes that obstacle is something that you cannot avoid.  There will be a time when some things just cannot be helped, and the only way to counter it is to live the way we want to live, and to pursue the meaning behind what we do in life, whether it is working as an engineer, pursuing a degree in college, or simply studying as a high school student.  Ask yourself why you do the things you do, and if you can’t answer that question, then you should rethink your values and what you want to accomplish as a person.  Live in a way that you know is the only way you would choose live if given the choice—and the way that you would live again if you were given the chance.

As trite as I may sound, there are no other words I can find to describe the lessons I learned here—lessons I had learned from the 3-year-olds and 11-year-olds of Gansu, and lessons that 14 years of studying and attending school had failed to teach me before. 

These children taught me of sincerity, of hope, and of a lifetime of love.

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