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那一天,睡到半夜,我的肩膀像被斧头劈了一下似的剧烈地疼着,惊醒过来。我睁开眼睛想确定自己不是在做噩梦,我的肩膀真的好疼痛,宛如撕裂。好容易熬到天亮,要去看医生,一如往常,我把随身物品收拾好,一台笔记本电脑,一本精装诗词或古典小说,一沓讲义夹,装了一大袋,背在另一边的肩膀上,出门了。医生为我做了检查,他说没有什么大问题。“没有问题?我真的好痛啊。”在我的抱怨声中,医生看见我放在一旁的背包,他问:“是你的?”我点点头。他用手去拎,掂了掂重量,问我:“这么重,最少有五公斤吧?”我没称过,无法回
On that day, asleep till midnight, my shoulder awakened violently as if by an ax. I opened my eyes to make sure I was not having a nightmare and my shoulder was so painful and torn. So easy to get to the dawn, to see a doctor, as usual, I put the belongings packed, a laptop, a hardcover poetry or classical novels, a stack of handouts, a big bag, back to the other side Shoulder, go out. The doctor did a check for me, he said there was no big problem. “No problem? I really hurts ah. ” In my complaints, the doctor saw my backpack aside, he asked: “is you? ” I nodded. He hand to carry, 掂 掂 weight, asked me: “so heavy, at least five kilograms, right? ” I did not say, can not return