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非凡的人生不是无根之木，无源之水。它需要你把握生命中的每一分每一秒为实现自己的生活目标而不懈努力。人生之路不是坦途，不要让疾病和痛苦击垮你，而应积极勇敢地去面对。
The old saying that you should live each day as though it’s your last is a nice sentiment, but it doesn’t work. Take it from me. I tried it once and here’s what I learned: if I pursued only happiness and lived just for the moment, I’d be a poor husband and father, a waster with a perpetual1 three-day growth on my chin. Cancer taught me that. Suffering, I learned, is as essential to a good life, and as inextricable2 as bliss.
Before cancer, whatever I imagined happiness to be, pretty soon I wore it out, took it for granted or threw it away. A portfolio3, a Porsche, a coffee machine---- these things were important to me. So was my hair. Then I lost them; including the hair.
When I was 25, I was diagnosed with advanced testicular4 cancer, which had metastasized5 into my lungs and brain. I sold my car, gave up my career as a world- class cyclist, lost a good deal of money and barely hung on to my life. When I went into remission, I thought happiness would mean being self-indulgent6. Not knowing how much time I had left, I did not intent to suffer ever again.
I had suffered months of fear, chemotherapy7 so strong it left burn-like marks under my skin and surgery to remove two tumours8. Happiness to me then was waking up. I ate Mexican food, played golf and lay on the couch. The pursuit of happiness meant going to my favourite restaurant and pursuing a plate of enchiladas9 with tomatillo10 sauce.
Two events changed me. The first happened one night at dinner. My wife Kristin put down her fork and said,“You need to decide something: are you going to be a golf-playing, beer-drinking, Mexican-food-eating slob for the rest of your life? If you are, I’ll still love you. But I need to know because, if so, I’ll go and get a job.I’m not going to sit at home while you play golf.”
I stared at her.
“I’m so bored,”she said.
Suddenly I understood that I was bored too. Bored and purposeless. I realized that responsibility, the routines and habits of shaving in the morning, having a job to do and a wife to love－these were the things that tied my days together andgave them a pattern deserving of the term living.
In days I was back on my bike. For the first time in my life, I rode with real strength and stamina11－and purpose.
The second moment arrived along with the birth of my son Luck. I grew up without a father; he left home before I was able to walk. So I vowed that if I ever had a child, I would be there for him in every way—the whole way.
Because of cancer, having a child would obviously not be easy. I had my sperm frozen. Kristin had to have an operation, and Luke was conceived by in vitro fertilisation. He developed normally, but Kristin had trouble during the delivery. The baby was in crisis and doctors had to use forceps12. He was tiny, blue, not crying and his lungs weren’t filling with air. So they grabbed him from Kristin, whisked13 him into a side room, put a mask over his face and pumped air into his lungs.
I remember I was just standing there helpless, Kristin looking at me, asking,“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” And I didn’t have any answers. I could see the doctors working, yet I was helpless. I have been through a lot of scary stuff, but that topped everything.
Medical personal dashed in and out of the room. I was thinking,”Cry, please cry.Ó I was petrified14. At that moment I would have done anything just to hear him scream.
Then I saw them remove the mask. He opened his mouth and scrunched his face and let out a big, strong“Whaaaaaa!”
It sounded like the wail15 of life. I had wanted to show him, but he had just shown me, that life was about staying tough. You fight to go on.
Cancer was the making of me: through fear and pain I became a more compassionate and intelligent man, husband and father－and therefore a more alive one.
I remember many nights after we first brought Luke home. Sometimes I’d lift him out of his cot and take him back to bed with me, and I’d lay him on my chest.
Every cry of his delighted me. He’d throw back his head and his chin would tremble, his hands would claw the air and he’d wail“”Yeah, that’s right. ” I’d tell him.“Go on.”
有句老话说：“你应该把每一天都当作生命的最后一天来过。”这的确算得上是个不错的观点，但却毫无用处。就拿我来说吧，我曾这样试过一次，结果却得到这样的教训：如果只一味贪图快乐，为暂时的开心而活，那么我将堕落成一个糟糕的丈夫和父亲，一个三天不刮胡子的废物。癌症教会我这一点——苦难是幸福生活中必要的一部分，而且如同天赐的福分一样妙不可言。
在患癌症之前，我所能想象出的一切快乐，全都很快令我厌倦，要么就在腻烦之后弃之不理。一个公事包、一辆保时捷、一台咖啡机——对我来说这些都是很重要的事情，还包括我的头发。而我失去了这一切，连同头发在内。
25岁那年，我被诊断出已步入睾丸癌晚期，癌细胞已转移到肺部及大脑。我卖了汽车，放弃了当一名世界级赛车手的事业，治病花费了我一大笔钱，差点连命也保不住。待身体开始好转后，我感到快乐就是要自我放纵。由于我还剩下多少日子成了个未知数，我不想在余生再受煎熬了。
几个月来我饱尝了恐惧的折磨，大剂量的化疗在皮肤上留下烧伤般的印记，此外我还经历了一次将两个肿瘤摘除的手术，就在那时，我突然感到应该享受快乐的滋味。于是，我吃墨西哥食品，打高尔夫球，懒懒地躺在睡椅上。对我来说，追寻欢愉就是去最喜欢的餐馆，美美享用一盘加了粘果酸酱汁的墨西哥肉酱玉米卷。
然而有两件事改变了我沉溺于享乐的习惯。第一件发生在一次晚餐后。妻子克里斯汀放下叉子对我说：“你必须做出决定：你的下半辈子是否只想沦为一个玩高尔夫、喝啤酒、吃墨西哥食物的懒汉。如果是，我仍然会爱你，但我必须知道你的抉择，因为如果你真的那样的话，我就得外出工作，我不愿在你打高尔夫的时候还傻待在家里。”
我凝视着她。
“我无聊透了，”她这样说道。
我忽然意识到自己也相当无聊，而且活得没有方向和目标。必须承担的责任、例行每天清晨刮胡子的习惯、有一份工作、一个值得我付出爱的妻子，我明白所有这些都是构成我生活的元素，也是生命意义的所在。
几天后，我又回到了自行车车座上，在我一生中，我第一次真正用体力和毅力去朝着一个明确的目标前行。
第二个改变我的时刻伴随着儿子卢克的出生而降临。我从小就在没有父亲的环境下长大，父亲在我还未学会走路之前就离开了家庭，所以我发誓一旦有了自己的孩子，一定会在各方面呵护他。
因为身患癌症的缘故，想要一个孩子显然不是件简单的事。我采用了精子冷藏的方法。克里斯汀不得不配合接受一次手术，通过人工授精的方法怀上了卢克。胚胎正常地生长着，然而克里斯汀在分娩的时候却相当艰难。婴儿很可能会保不住，医生只得用镊子将他夹了出来。他是那么小，肤色发青，不哭不闹，肺里竟没有氧气！于是他们将他从克里斯汀身边拿走，移进另一间病房后，在他脸上套上吸氧面具以便把氧气打进这个小生命的肺里！
我记得自己就站在那儿，一副无能为力的样子，克里斯汀看着我不停地问：“怎么了？孩子出什么事了？”但我给不出任何答案。我看着大夫们忙这忙那，而我却帮不上半点忙。虽然经历过很多可怕的事，但此时的恐惧和不安超过了以往所有的惶恐。
医务人员在那间病房奔进奔出，我的心在祈求：“哭吧，求求你哭一声吧。”我已经吓得六神无主，那一刻为了能听到他的一声哭喊，我愿意做任何事。
就在那时，我看见他们将氧气面罩移去，他张开嘴，小脸扭成一团，然后响亮而有力地放出一声：“哇！”
这一声就像是生命的哀嚎，我曾以为是由我来教导他，而现在却是他向我证明了这一点——要活着就必须坚强，生命靠不断拼搏才能继续。
癌症造就了现在的我：疾病带来的恐惧和痛苦使我变成更富同情心、更具智慧的一个人，一个丈夫和父亲，从而也能将生命活出色彩。
我仍然记得将卢克初次抱回家后的那无数个夜晚，有时，我会将他抱出小床，带着他来到我床上，把小家伙搁在胸口与我同睡。
他的每一声哭喊都令我喜悦，他会把头往后一仰，下巴颤悠悠的，小手在空中乱抓，然后放声号啕大哭。“对，就这样，”我鼓励着他，“哭吧，继续放声大哭吧。”
孙琳 摘自 Overseas English
The old saying that you should live each day as though it’s your last is a nice sentiment, but it doesn’t work. Take it from me. I tried it once and here’s what I learned: if I pursued only happiness and lived just for the moment, I’d be a poor husband and father, a waster with a perpetual1 three-day growth on my chin. Cancer taught me that. Suffering, I learned, is as essential to a good life, and as inextricable2 as bliss.
Before cancer, whatever I imagined happiness to be, pretty soon I wore it out, took it for granted or threw it away. A portfolio3, a Porsche, a coffee machine---- these things were important to me. So was my hair. Then I lost them; including the hair.
When I was 25, I was diagnosed with advanced testicular4 cancer, which had metastasized5 into my lungs and brain. I sold my car, gave up my career as a world- class cyclist, lost a good deal of money and barely hung on to my life. When I went into remission, I thought happiness would mean being self-indulgent6. Not knowing how much time I had left, I did not intent to suffer ever again.
I had suffered months of fear, chemotherapy7 so strong it left burn-like marks under my skin and surgery to remove two tumours8. Happiness to me then was waking up. I ate Mexican food, played golf and lay on the couch. The pursuit of happiness meant going to my favourite restaurant and pursuing a plate of enchiladas9 with tomatillo10 sauce.
Two events changed me. The first happened one night at dinner. My wife Kristin put down her fork and said,“You need to decide something: are you going to be a golf-playing, beer-drinking, Mexican-food-eating slob for the rest of your life? If you are, I’ll still love you. But I need to know because, if so, I’ll go and get a job.I’m not going to sit at home while you play golf.”
I stared at her.
“I’m so bored,”she said.
Suddenly I understood that I was bored too. Bored and purposeless. I realized that responsibility, the routines and habits of shaving in the morning, having a job to do and a wife to love－these were the things that tied my days together andgave them a pattern deserving of the term living.
In days I was back on my bike. For the first time in my life, I rode with real strength and stamina11－and purpose.
The second moment arrived along with the birth of my son Luck. I grew up without a father; he left home before I was able to walk. So I vowed that if I ever had a child, I would be there for him in every way—the whole way.
Because of cancer, having a child would obviously not be easy. I had my sperm frozen. Kristin had to have an operation, and Luke was conceived by in vitro fertilisation. He developed normally, but Kristin had trouble during the delivery. The baby was in crisis and doctors had to use forceps12. He was tiny, blue, not crying and his lungs weren’t filling with air. So they grabbed him from Kristin, whisked13 him into a side room, put a mask over his face and pumped air into his lungs.
I remember I was just standing there helpless, Kristin looking at me, asking,“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” And I didn’t have any answers. I could see the doctors working, yet I was helpless. I have been through a lot of scary stuff, but that topped everything.
Medical personal dashed in and out of the room. I was thinking,”Cry, please cry.Ó I was petrified14. At that moment I would have done anything just to hear him scream.
Then I saw them remove the mask. He opened his mouth and scrunched his face and let out a big, strong“Whaaaaaa!”
It sounded like the wail15 of life. I had wanted to show him, but he had just shown me, that life was about staying tough. You fight to go on.
Cancer was the making of me: through fear and pain I became a more compassionate and intelligent man, husband and father－and therefore a more alive one.
I remember many nights after we first brought Luke home. Sometimes I’d lift him out of his cot and take him back to bed with me, and I’d lay him on my chest.
Every cry of his delighted me. He’d throw back his head and his chin would tremble, his hands would claw the air and he’d wail“”Yeah, that’s right. ” I’d tell him.“Go on.”
有句老话说：“你应该把每一天都当作生命的最后一天来过。”这的确算得上是个不错的观点，但却毫无用处。就拿我来说吧，我曾这样试过一次，结果却得到这样的教训：如果只一味贪图快乐，为暂时的开心而活，那么我将堕落成一个糟糕的丈夫和父亲，一个三天不刮胡子的废物。癌症教会我这一点——苦难是幸福生活中必要的一部分，而且如同天赐的福分一样妙不可言。
在患癌症之前，我所能想象出的一切快乐，全都很快令我厌倦，要么就在腻烦之后弃之不理。一个公事包、一辆保时捷、一台咖啡机——对我来说这些都是很重要的事情，还包括我的头发。而我失去了这一切，连同头发在内。
25岁那年，我被诊断出已步入睾丸癌晚期，癌细胞已转移到肺部及大脑。我卖了汽车，放弃了当一名世界级赛车手的事业，治病花费了我一大笔钱，差点连命也保不住。待身体开始好转后，我感到快乐就是要自我放纵。由于我还剩下多少日子成了个未知数，我不想在余生再受煎熬了。
几个月来我饱尝了恐惧的折磨，大剂量的化疗在皮肤上留下烧伤般的印记，此外我还经历了一次将两个肿瘤摘除的手术，就在那时，我突然感到应该享受快乐的滋味。于是，我吃墨西哥食品，打高尔夫球，懒懒地躺在睡椅上。对我来说，追寻欢愉就是去最喜欢的餐馆，美美享用一盘加了粘果酸酱汁的墨西哥肉酱玉米卷。
然而有两件事改变了我沉溺于享乐的习惯。第一件发生在一次晚餐后。妻子克里斯汀放下叉子对我说：“你必须做出决定：你的下半辈子是否只想沦为一个玩高尔夫、喝啤酒、吃墨西哥食物的懒汉。如果是，我仍然会爱你，但我必须知道你的抉择，因为如果你真的那样的话，我就得外出工作，我不愿在你打高尔夫的时候还傻待在家里。”
我凝视着她。
“我无聊透了，”她这样说道。
我忽然意识到自己也相当无聊，而且活得没有方向和目标。必须承担的责任、例行每天清晨刮胡子的习惯、有一份工作、一个值得我付出爱的妻子，我明白所有这些都是构成我生活的元素，也是生命意义的所在。
几天后，我又回到了自行车车座上，在我一生中，我第一次真正用体力和毅力去朝着一个明确的目标前行。
第二个改变我的时刻伴随着儿子卢克的出生而降临。我从小就在没有父亲的环境下长大，父亲在我还未学会走路之前就离开了家庭，所以我发誓一旦有了自己的孩子，一定会在各方面呵护他。
因为身患癌症的缘故，想要一个孩子显然不是件简单的事。我采用了精子冷藏的方法。克里斯汀不得不配合接受一次手术，通过人工授精的方法怀上了卢克。胚胎正常地生长着，然而克里斯汀在分娩的时候却相当艰难。婴儿很可能会保不住，医生只得用镊子将他夹了出来。他是那么小，肤色发青，不哭不闹，肺里竟没有氧气！于是他们将他从克里斯汀身边拿走，移进另一间病房后，在他脸上套上吸氧面具以便把氧气打进这个小生命的肺里！
我记得自己就站在那儿，一副无能为力的样子，克里斯汀看着我不停地问：“怎么了？孩子出什么事了？”但我给不出任何答案。我看着大夫们忙这忙那，而我却帮不上半点忙。虽然经历过很多可怕的事，但此时的恐惧和不安超过了以往所有的惶恐。
医务人员在那间病房奔进奔出，我的心在祈求：“哭吧，求求你哭一声吧。”我已经吓得六神无主，那一刻为了能听到他的一声哭喊，我愿意做任何事。
就在那时，我看见他们将氧气面罩移去，他张开嘴，小脸扭成一团，然后响亮而有力地放出一声：“哇！”
这一声就像是生命的哀嚎，我曾以为是由我来教导他，而现在却是他向我证明了这一点——要活着就必须坚强，生命靠不断拼搏才能继续。
癌症造就了现在的我：疾病带来的恐惧和痛苦使我变成更富同情心、更具智慧的一个人，一个丈夫和父亲，从而也能将生命活出色彩。
我仍然记得将卢克初次抱回家后的那无数个夜晚，有时，我会将他抱出小床，带着他来到我床上，把小家伙搁在胸口与我同睡。
他的每一声哭喊都令我喜悦，他会把头往后一仰，下巴颤悠悠的，小手在空中乱抓，然后放声号啕大哭。“对，就这样，”我鼓励着他，“哭吧，继续放声大哭吧。”
孙琳 摘自 Overseas English