English Original
I never liked being alone. It was too quiet and disconcerting. Ever since I was a little girl, I felt uncomfortable on my own. Even as an adult, I found it distressing.
One day, my son was at a friend's house, my daughter was away at her first year of college, and worst of all, my husband, Mike, was in the hospital. I was worried and alone.
It was a minor laparoscopic procedure. Nothing serious. He seemed fine and would be home the next day. "One more day," I thought while getting ready for bed.
I wished my mother could be with me, but she lived hundreds of miles away. Mike's parents were at their summer place. It was vacation time, and all my friends were out of town. I stared at the shadowy wall all night, unable to sleep, feeling the emptiness beside me.
First thing in the morning, I took a taxi to the hospital. "How's... everything... at... home?" Mike asked, his voice weak and labored. I took his hand; his skin was cold and clammy. His eyes were wide. Something was wrong.
A nurse with a cheery smile popped in. As she bent over Mike to take his vital signs, her smile disappeared. Before I knew it, the room was full of worried doctors and nurses. I was pushed back against the cold cement wall.
"Pulse is rapid." "Blood pressure elevated," I heard. What was going on?
Suddenly, Mike was whisked out. A nurse noticed me standing alone, my knees shaking. "Your husband is having trouble breathing. We're taking him for an MRI. We think he has blood clots in his lungs." She looked into my eyes. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry!" That's not what I wanted to hear. Blood clots in the lungs? That was serious!
I stepped into the hall, confused. "You should go to the ICU waiting room," a nurse said. "Second floor."
I sat there with other quiet, anxious strangers. I spotted a phone and fished for quarters. I called Mike's parents, then my mother, wishing she weren't so far away. Then I called my daughter, Kate. She'd always been my rock. Hearing her voice helped a little, but when I hung up, I choked back tears.
I had one last call. I dialed my church. An answering machine picked up. We hadn't been attending long, so I didn't know many people. Finally, I just said Mike was in the hospital and had taken a turn for the worse. Maybe they could say some prayers.
It seemed like forever. I put my head in my hands, hiding my tears. Suddenly, a woman approached me.
"Peggy?" she asked, kneeling beside me. "I'm Lisa. I'm a social worker here, and I also go to your church. The pastor called saying you were here, so I came to see if you were okay."
I looked up, surprised. She seemed calm and gentle. Seemingly out of the blue, someone had found me. I wiped my tears.
"If you need anything, ask someone to page me, okay?" She put her hand on my shoulder with a comforting smile.
"Yes, thank you," I sniffed. Before long, I was allowed to see Mike. He was hooked up to monitors, IVs, and an oxygen mask, but I was so happy to be with him. "You're going to be fine," I said, stroking his arm. I hoped.
"There are multiple clots in both lungs," the doctor said. "He's on blood thinners. The next few days are critical."
I understood. The clots needed to dissolve. If they traveled to the brain, it could be fatal. The doctor left, and Mike dozed off. I sat by his side, aching to help. I put my head against his hand and cried. Then it was time to leave. I returned home alone.
But as I sat in my quiet house, eating dinner, the phone rang. First, a woman from church named Sue called, offering rides to the hospital and insisting on driving to pick up Kate from college. Then someone else called to bring a meal. I didn't even know these people! Finally, just before bed, my mom called.
"I was trying to take a bus tomorrow," she said, "but my friend said, 'No way!' She's driving me there right now. We'll arrive around 2 a.m."
"She'll drive all that way in the middle of the night?" I asked, unbelieving.
"Yup. I'll see you soon. Just hang in there."
I did, thanks to the support of Lisa, Sue, and others I barely knew. Mike recovered, came home, and grew stronger. And I was stronger, too. With good, caring people everywhere, ready to lend a hand, I am never really alone.
中文翻译
我从来不喜欢独处。那太安静了，令人不安。从小时候起，独自一人就让我感到不适。即使成年后，我依然觉得独处令人痛苦。
有一天，我儿子在朋友家，女儿在外地上大学第一年，而最糟糕的是，我的丈夫迈克住院了。我忧心忡忡，形单影只。
那是个微创腹腔镜小手术，不严重。他看起来很好，第二天就能回家。我准备睡觉时想：“再熬一天就好了。”
我希望母亲能陪着我，但她住在几百英里外。迈克的父母在他们避暑的房子里。正值假期，我所有的朋友都不在城里。我整晚盯着昏暗的墙壁，无法入睡，感受着身旁的空虚。
一大早，我打车去了医院。“家……里……一切都……好吗？”迈克问道，声音虚弱而费力。我握住他的手；他的皮肤冰冷湿黏。他睁大了眼睛。出问题了。
一位面带 cheerful 微笑的护士走了进来。当她俯身为迈克测量生命体征时，笑容消失了。转眼间，房间里挤满了神色忧虑的医生和护士。我被推离床边，靠在了冰冷的混凝土墙上。
“脉搏很快。”“血压升高了，”我听到护士们说。怎么回事？
突然，迈克被迅速推了出去。一位护士注意到我独自站在墙边，膝盖发抖。“您丈夫呼吸困难。我们要带他去做核磁共振。我们怀疑他肺部有血栓。”她看着我的眼睛说，“我很抱歉。”
“我很抱歉！”这不是我想听到的。肺部血栓？这很严重！
我走到走廊上，茫然失措。“您应该去重症监护室的等候区，”一位护士注意到我的困惑说道，“在二楼。”
我坐在那里，周围是其他沉默焦虑的陌生人。我看到墙上有部电话，便在钱包里翻找硬币。我先打给迈克的父母。他们会立刻赶回来，但需要时间。接着打给我母亲，真希望她没住那么远。然后我打给女儿凯特。我不想让她担心，但她一直是我的支柱。听到她的声音让我好受了一点，但挂断电话后，我强忍住了泪水。
我还有最后一个电话要打。我拨通了教堂的号码。答录机接听了。我们参加那个教堂不久，所以不认识多少人。最后，我只是说迈克住院了，情况恶化，也许他们可以为他祈祷。
等待仿佛永无止境。我双手抱头，试图隐藏泪水。突然，一位女士走进来，向我走来。
“佩吉？”她跪在我旁边问道。“我是丽莎。我是这家医院的社工，也去你们的教堂。牧师打电话说你在这里，所以我过来看看你是否安好。”
我抬起头，很惊讶。她显得如此平静温和。仿佛从天而降，有人找到了我并提供帮助。我擦去脸颊的泪水。
“如果你需要任何东西，让人呼叫我，好吗？”她把手放在我肩上，安慰地微笑着。
“好的，非常感谢，”我抽泣着说。不久后，我被允许去看迈克。他连接着监控器、静脉注射管，戴着氧气面罩，但我很高兴能再次和他在一起。“你会好起来的，”我抚摸着他的手臂说。我祈祷着。我看向床边的医生。
“他双肺都有多处血栓，”医生说。“他正在使用肝素和华法林，都是抗凝剂。接下来几天非常关键。”
我明白了。希望血栓能分解消散。但如果不能，或者它们移动到大脑，后果可能是致命的。血栓是件严重的事。医生离开了，迈克打起盹来。我坐在他身边，渴望能做点什么来帮助他。我把头靠在他的手上哭泣。然后，晚上离开的时间到了。我独自回家。
但当我坐在安静的房子里吃晚饭时，电话开始响了。首先，教堂一位名叫苏的女性打来电话，主动提出接送我去医院。她甚至坚持要开车三小时去大学接凯特回家过周末。接着，另一个人打电话来说会送餐过来。我甚至不认识这些人！最后，就在我睡觉前，电话又响了。是我妈妈。
“我本来想安排明天坐巴士来，”她说，“但我的朋友说，‘绝对不行！’她现在就开车送我过来。我们大约凌晨两点到。”
“她会在半夜开那么远的路？”我不敢相信地问。
“是的。很快见。坚持住。”
我做到了，多亏了丽莎、苏和其他我几乎不认识的人的支持。迈克康复了，回家了，逐渐变得强壮。而我也变得更坚强了。因为到处都有善良、关心他人、乐于伸出援手的人，我从未真正孤单。