【赫临译笔】倾听是良药 - 心云驛站

那是个星期天，我还有最后一位病人。我匆忙赶到她的房间，站在门口。她是位老年人，正坐在床边上，费力地往她肿胀的脚上穿袜子。我跨过门槛儿，迅速的和护士交待了几句，扫了一眼她的病历，情况稳定，我几乎可以断定她已脱离危险。

我斜倚床栏，低头俯视着病人。她问我能否帮她穿袜子。我没有帮她，而是滔滔不绝地说了起来：“你感觉怎么样？你的血糖和血压很高，但今天好多了。护士说你很渴望见自己的儿子，他今天要来。有家人远道而来探望真好。我猜你肯定在盼望着儿子的到来。”

她拦住了我，语调严厉而富有权威性：“坐下，医生。这是我的故事，不是你的故事。”

我又惊又窘，坐下了，帮她穿着袜子。她开始告诉我她儿子就住在附近，但她已经五年没见到他了。她相信这种压力是她生病的主要原因。听她讲完自己的故事，帮她穿完袜子，我问她我还能为她做些什么。她摇了摇头，露出了微笑。她想让我做的只是倾听。

每个人的故事都是不同的。有些讲得很详细，有些很模糊。有些故事有开头、过程和结尾，有些故事没有明确的结局。有些故事是真实的，有些不是真实的。然而这一切都不重要，对于诉说者来说，重要的是有人听这些故事，不被打断、假设或者评判。

倾听病人的诉说花费要比昂贵的诊断测试少许多，但这对于治疗和诊断却很关键。

我常常想到这位老人教我的东西，我提醒自己停下来、坐下来、倾听的重要性。不久后，因为一次意外的扭伤，我自己变成了病人，在三十一岁时被诊断为多发性硬化症。永久性地坐在轮椅上。

只要可能，我在轮椅上还继续给人看病，但当我的手受到影响时，我不得不辞职。我仍然给医学院和其它医疗保健机构的专业人员讲课，但现在是从一个医生兼病人的视角讲。

我告诉他们我相信倾听的力量。我告诉他们当有人停下来、坐下来、倾听我的故事时，我亲身感受到体内产生了不可估量的愈合作用。

Studies have shown it takes a physician about 18 seconds to interrupt a patient after he begins talking.

It was Sunday. I had one last patient to see. I approached her room in a hurry and stood at the doorway. She was an older woman, sitting at the edge of the bed,struggling to put socks on her swollen feet. I crossed the threshold, spoke quickly to the nurse, scanned her chart noting she was in stable condition. I was almost in the clear.

I leaned on the bedrail looking down at her. She asked if I could help put on her socks. Instead, I launched into a monologue that went something like this:"How are you feeling? Your sugars and blood pressure were high but they're better today. The nurse mentioned you're anxious to see your son who's visiting you today. It's nice to have family visit from far away. I bet you really look forward to seeing him."

She stopped me with a stern, authoritative voice. "Sit down, doctor. This is my story, not your story."

I was surprised and embarrassed. I sat down. I helped her with the socks. She began to tell me that her only son lived around the corner from her, but she had not seen him in five years. She believed that the stress of this contributed greatly to her health problems. After hearing her story and putting on her socks, I asked if there was anything else I could do for her. She shook her head no and smiled. All she wanted me to do was to listen.

Each story is different. Some are detailed; others are vague. Some have a beginning,middle and end. Others wander without a clear conclusion. Some are true; others not. Yet all those things do not really matter. What matters to the storyteller is that the story is heard — without interruption, assumption or judgment.

Listening to someone's story costs less than expensive diagnostic testing but is key to healing and diagnosis.

I often thought of what that woman taught me, and I reminded myself of the importance of stopping, sitting down and truly listening. And, not long after,in an unexpected twist, I became the patient, with a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis at age 31. Now, 20 years later, I sit all the time — in a wheelchair.

For as long as I could, I continued to see patients from my chair, but I had to resign when my hands were affected. I still teach med students and other healthcare professionals, but now from the perspective of physician and patient.

I tell them I believe in the power of listening. I tell them I know firsthand that immeasurable healing takes place within me when someone stops, sits down and listens to my story.