Lessons from My Father’s Final Days | Laurel Braitman | TED

譯者: 麗玲 辛 審譯者: Shelley Tsang 曾雯海

You could say I had an unconventional childhood for a couple reasons.

可以說我的童年很不一般， 基於幾個原因。

I was born to Jewish

我出生於猶太家庭，

avocado and citrus growers in rural Southern California.

在南加州鄉村地區種植酪梨和柑橘。

My dad was a surgeon at our local hospital,

我爸是當地醫院的外科醫生，

and my mom ran the ranch

我媽經營農場，

where we sold our fruit commercially and they rescued donkeys.

我們在農場上賣水果， 父母會救助驢子。

My early childhood was so beautiful,

我的童年是如此美好、

strange and very privileged.

奇特且生活優渥。

And you could say that I really had nothing to worry about

可以說我沒什麼憂慮，

until I did.

直到某天。

When I was three and my dad was 42,

那時我三歲，我爸四十二歲，

he was diagnosed with metastatic bone cancer

他被診斷得了轉移性骨癌，

and he was told he had six months to live.

並被告知只剩六個月的性命。

He had his right leg amputated and he went in for chemo and radiation,

他的右腿被截肢， 並接受了化療和放射治療，

which in the early 1980s for bone cancer was especially brutal.

在 1980 年代初期， 患有骨癌特別嚴酷。

And then, miraculously, he didn't die.

然而，奇蹟地，他沒有死。

First we got a year, then we got two,

一開始我們有一年的時間， 然後是兩年，

then we got five and then we got seven.

接著是五年，然後是七年。

And then when I was 11,

當我十一歲時，

the cancer came back and stayed for good.

癌症再次復發，而且就賴著不走。

We lived between scans, like, that's how our time was meted out.

我們在一次一次掃描之間過日子， 這是我們計算時間的方式。

And we lived with the constant ticking clock of mortality.

我們生活在死亡時鐘的滴答聲中。

We all have a clock like this.

每個人都有這樣的時鐘，

It's just in my family,

只是在我家，

we could hear ours all the time.

我們隨時都能聽到它的滴答聲。

More often than not, one of his scans turned up something.

通常，掃描檢查會發現一些東西。

Back tumor here, a neck tumor there,

這裡有個背部腫瘤， 那裡有個脖子腫瘤，

his other knee.

或是另一個膝蓋。

And then he would go in for treatment and then he would come back to us.

然後他會去治療，再回到我們身邊。

It was a little bit like a sinister version of “The Giving Tree,”

有點像《愛心樹》的暗黑版，

only he was trading body parts for time with us.

只是他用身體部位換取 與我們在一起的時間。

And then, as I mentioned, when I was 11,

然後，如我剛說的，當我十一歲時，

really he found out this was going to kill him and quickly.

他發現癌症會很快奪走他的性命。

And that's when he decided

這時他決定

that he was going to teach my brother and I

要教我和弟弟所有必要的技能，

all the skills we would need to know to survive without him.

以便我們在他離開後可以過活。

And so while other kids were having play dates after school

因此，別的小孩放學後，

跟同伴一起玩、騎腳踏車，

and riding their bikes,

my brother and I were in my dad's version of survival school.

我和弟弟則是上我爸的生存學校。

And we were learning all kinds of things:

我們學各式各樣的東西：

how to squish a man's eyeballs out if I was ever attacked.

如果我被攻擊，怎麼戳壞人的眼珠子。

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

All about the Dewey decimal system,

還有杜威十進制分類法，

I don't know why.

我不知道為什麼要學這個。

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

The role of nitrogen in soil health.

氮如何促進土壤健康，

Member nations of the United Nations,

聯合國的成員國等等。

and so much more.

He was also doing a lot of things to be present for us after he died.

他還做了很多事情， 讓這些東西在他死後能夠陪伴我們。

So things like becoming a beekeeper

例如，他開始養蜂，

and putting away enough honey that he knew wouldn't spoil

儲存了很多的蜂蜜， 他知道蜂蜜不會變質，

so that we would have it for decades.

這些量可以讓我們享用幾十年。

Or planting trees around the ranch

或者在農場周圍種樹，

that would shade and feed us after he was gone.

這些樹在他離開後 能夠為我們提供樹蔭和食物。

Or even though I was only 12 at this point,

或者，儘管我那時只有十二歲，

he started a coop of doves and put my brother in charge

他開始養鴿子，也交待我弟弟，

so that he would let them go at my wedding someday.

要他在我婚禮上放飛鴿子。

Throughout it all,

在這些過程裏，

I knew he was suffering and often in terrible pain,

我知道他在受苦， 經常處於極度疼痛中，

even though he really did not like to talk about it.

不過，他很不喜歡談這件事。

And he always used to say

他總是說，

that when he couldn't enjoy life with me, my brother and my mom, he would die.

當他和我、弟弟和媽媽在一起 卻無法享受生活時，他會去死。

And I took this at face value until one afternoon when I was 16.

直到十六歲的某個下午， 我才把這句話信以為真。

I went into their medicine cabinet looking for something

我在找東西時，打開爸媽的藥櫃，

and I found an unmarked pill bottle with dosage instructions.

發現了一個沒有標記的藥瓶， 上面有劑量說明。

And I just knew.

我一下子明白了。

It was a terminal prescription.

這是末期的處方用藥。

It was right-to-die medication before it was legal.

在安樂死合法化之前， 這是一種安樂死藥物。

I wasn't mad.

我沒有生氣，

I immediately understood what he had been saying all those years,

我立刻明白了他這些年一直在說的話，

and that he had a plan,

他心裡有計劃，

that there was a level of pain and suffering

有種痛苦的程度

that he wasn't willing to experience,

是他不願意忍受的。

and I didn't say anything to anybody, just put it back and left.

我沒有告訴任何人， 只是把藥放回去，然後走開。

And then six months later,

六個月後，

we were on the phone

我們在電話裡

and we got into a terrible fight.

大吵了一架。

It was so stupid.

這場爭吵很愚蠢。

It was about me not wanting to do my college applications,

我們在爭論我不想申請大學，

and I was so angry

我當時非常生氣，

and I hung up on him

掛斷電話時，

without saying goodbye and without saying I loved him.

我沒有說再見，沒有說我愛他。

I didn't know it,

我那時並不知道，

but he was about to take his medication.

他即將服用他的藥。

And I think when it came down to it,

我想，真的到了這一步時，

saying goodbye to me was just too impossible.

跟我告別，對他來說太難了。

By the time I got home, he was unconscious

當我回到家時，他已經失去意識，

and I would never hear his voice again.

我再也沒聽到他說話。

I dealt with his death

面對他的死亡，

by doubling down on the things he wanted for me.

我只是加倍努力，實現他對我的期望。

I chased academic honors like a drug.

我像吸毒一樣追求學術榮譽。

I played not one, but two Division I college sports.

我不只參加了一項、而是兩項 第一級別大學運動。

I wrote a book.

我寫了一本書。

I got my PhD,

我拿到了博士學位，

and then in my mid-thirties,

然後在我三十多歲時，

I realized I was just completely exhausted.

我驚覺自己精疲力竭。

I had been living my entire adult life

成年以來，我一直在 以某種方式生活著，

in a way to prove to myself that I was good,

證明自己是個好人，

because someone who is good is not someone who hangs up

因為一個好人不會 掛她垂死父親的電話。

on her dying dad.

I was using achievement

我用成就

and all of the shiny things that come along with it,

和隨之而來的所有閃亮的東西

as a way of anesthetizing my own bad feelings

來麻醉自己內心的負面感受：

of shame, regret and fear.

羞恥、悔恨和恐懼。

Those feelings were so big,

這些感受如此強烈，

I worried that if I let myself feel them for even a minute,

我擔心如果讓自己感受到， 即使短短一分鐘，

I would never, ever feel anything else again.

我就再也無法感受到其他感覺了。

But you cannot kill negative feelings,

不過，可惜，我們無法用工作和逃避

sadly, with work and avoidance.

來消除負面情緒。

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

And mine came back with a jolt.

我的負面情緒突然都回來了。

On the outside, I was successful and thriving,

表面上，我很成功，發展得很好，

and on the inside I was anxious,

內心卻充滿焦慮、恐懼，

terrified and questioning my worth.

總是質疑自己的價值。

By avoiding all of the negative feelings,

在逃避所有負面情緒的同時，

I was muting the fantastic ones too.

我也抑制了美好的情緒。

I was so scared about missing out

我非常害怕錯過、

and losing more of the best things in life --

失去生活中更多的美好事物——

joy, awe, love, wonder --

喜悅、驚奇、愛和讚嘆——

that I couldn't even let myself experience them.

以至於我不容許自己體驗這些感受。

I needed to find a new way to be.

我需要找到一種新的生活方式。

I wanted to find a new way to be.

我想找到一種新的生活方式。

So I did a bunch of stuff.

所以我做了很多事情。

I interviewed a ton of grief specialists and therapists,

我採訪了很多悲傷專家和心理治療師，

and I even went out into the wilderness with no food and no tent,

我甚至沒帶食物和帳篷就去到荒野中，

to do the thing that scared me most,

去做我最害怕的事，

which was to be alone with my own thoughts and feelings

那就是獨自一人， 只有自己的念頭和感受相伴，

and absolutely nothing to distract me from them.

全心全意地關照它們。

I learned I can go about five days without eating,

我知道我可以五天不吃東西，

about a week without talking to anyone,

一週不與任何人交談，

and forever without checking my phone.

而都沒有查看手機。

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

But what hit me the hardest

但最撼動我的

was becoming a volunteer

是在一個兒童悲傷支持組織擔任志工。

at a grief support organization for kids.

So many of them thought they were bad, too.

他們許多人也認為自己很壞。

They'd been out of the room playing when their mom died,

媽媽去世時，他們在外面玩耍，

or they'd said something in anger to an ill parent that they regretted.

或者他們對生病的父母 說了些氣話，感到後悔。

And I could so clearly see

我很清楚，

that the painful things that had happened to these kids were not their fault.

這些孩子所遭受的痛苦經歷 並不是他們的錯。

For the first time, I was able to see that that was probably true for me too.

第一次，我清楚知道我也是如此。

By blaming themselves,

孩子藉由責怪自己，

the kids were making their losses make sense.

試著理解失去親人這件事。

Even though it hurt to blame themselves,

儘管自責很痛苦，

it gave them a reason for the terrible thing that happened,

但這給了他們一個解釋， 為什麼會發生可怕的事情，

like losing someone they love for no reason at all.

例如毫無理由地失去所愛的人。

Maybe some of you can relate.

也許在座有些人能夠理解。

Often when we feel difficult things,

當我們遇到困難的事情時，

we blame ourselves

我們常常自責，

because it's easier than admitting we have no control.

因為這比承認我們無能為力更好受些。

That's what I had been doing for the 25 years since my dad died.

這就是我爸去世 25 年來， 我一直在做的事情。

But just because you feel guilt and shame,

但雖然你感到內疚和羞恥，

does not mean you did something wrong.

並不意味著你做錯了什麼。

Just because you feel regret

雖然感到遺憾，

does not necessarily mean you should have acted differently.

不代表你當時不該這麼做。

It sounds very simple and it is very hard to accept.

這聽起來很簡單，但很難接受。

But ...

但是…

Life is nothing

生活只不過是

except one long sushi conveyor belt of things that are going to test you

一長列的迴轉壽司，

考驗你的同時，教導你。

and teach you at the same time.

I know this because first I lost my dad,

我知道這一點，因為我先是失去我爸，

but then we lost our family home to wildfire.

隨後我們住家被野火燒毀。

The house and everything in it burned,

房子和裡面的所有東西都燒掉了，

including almost everything that my dad had worked so hard

幾乎包括我爸在去世前

努力為我們留下的所有東西。

to do and leave for us after he died.

And yet,

然而，

in one small wooden shed

在一個小木棚裡，

that I do not know how this was spared by the fire,

我不知道這是如何躲過火苗的，

behind a bunch of old farming equipment,

在一堆舊農具後面，

we found a couple five-gallon plastic buckets of my dad's honey.

我們找到了幾個五加侖的塑膠桶， 裡面裝著我爸的蜂蜜。

He'd harvested it more than 30 years earlier

他在 30 多年前采收的蜂蜜

and it was still perfect.

竟然完好無傷。

The ancient Egyptians used honey as a sweetener

古埃及人把蜂蜜當為甜味劑

and also as a natural antibiotic.

和天然抗生素。

On one papyrus, it was written that when the Sun god cried,

某張紙莎草紙寫著，當太陽神哭泣時，

his tears fell to Earth

他的淚水掉到地上，

and became bees that made honey for the people.

變成了蜜蜂，為人們生產蜂蜜。

Life from grief.

悲傷中孕育生命。

Pain into sweetness.

痛苦轉化為甜蜜。

Sorrow into medicine.

哀痛成為藥物。

Two years after the fire,

火災兩年後，

I lost my mom.

我媽也因癌症去世了。

Also to cancer.

But quickly this time.

但這次很快。

She chose right-to-die too, which was legal now.

她也選擇了安樂死，當時已合法。

And because of the experience we'd had with my dad,

由於與我爸的過去經驗，

we vowed that this time would be totally different.

我們決心讓這次完全不同。

No one would be left wondering if they messed up

不會有人擔心自己是否搞砸了，

or if she knew how much she meant to them.

或者她是否知道她對他們有多重要。

So we had a living memorial service for her,

我們為她舉行了生前追悼會，

and we each took turns telling her how much she meant to us,

我們輪流告訴她，她對我們有多重要，

and she said the same thing back.

她也告訴我們相同的事。

It was so beautiful

過程是那麼美好，

and it also really hurt.

也令人非常心痛。

I think if you can swing it,

我認為，如果你能做到，

everyone deserves the chance to say goodbye.

每個人都應該有機會告別。

What I know now,

我現在知道，

and what I wish I could tell my younger self,

我希望能告訴年輕的自己，

is that you cannot have joy without pain.

沒有痛苦，就不能擁有喜悅。

You cannot have resilience without challenges.

沒有挑戰，無法變得堅韌。

Happiness without sadness

沒有悲傷，就沒有幸福，

or bravery without fear.

沒有恐懼，就不是勇敢。

These things are not opposites.

這些東西不是對立的，

They are partners.

而是夥伴。

There is no such thing as happily ever after.

世上沒有所謂「從此幸福地生活」，

I'm sorry.

抱歉。

There is only sadly happy and happily sad.

只有悲傷中的快樂、快樂中的悲傷，

And that's enough.

但這就夠了。

It's more than enough, honestly.

說實話，這遠遠超乎所求。

I like to think that before we enter this world,

我喜歡想像，在我們來到人世之前，

we are asked to sign a kind of cosmic release form,

我們會被要求簽署某種宇宙同意書，

acknowledging the extreme risk it is

承認深切關愛任何人、任何事或地方

to care deeply about anyone or anything or any place.

是一種極大的風險。

I imagine it goes something like this.

我想像同意書內容是這樣的：

"I hereby acknowledge that in exchange for the chance to live,

「我在此確認，為了獲得活著的機會，

I must accept both pain and pleasure,

我必須接受痛苦和快樂，

joy and sorrow,

喜悅和悲傷，

often at the exact same time."

而且往往同時並存。」

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

This is the ticket price for the chance that is to live.

這是活著的代價。

It's never too late to sign it.

接受這一點，永遠不會太晚。

Thank you.

謝謝大家。

(Applause)

（掌聲）