Presentation on theme: "Graceful Hands 组员：刘珊珊 陈柔静 陈晓雨 黄建英 郑莹. The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.——Joseph."— Presentation transcript:
Graceful Hands 组员：刘珊珊 陈柔静 陈晓雨 黄建英 郑莹
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.——Joseph Conrad 【约瑟夫 · 康拉德（波兰出生的英国作家）：将邪 恶的产生归结于超自然的因素是没有必要的，人 类自身就足以实施每一种恶行。】 In the above us people, as long as a rebuff or a cold expression, it will cause we hate; but a greeting or a smile, it will immediately change our minds frost. 【拉布吕耶尔 : 位居我们之上的人们，只要露出一丝 拒绝或冷淡的神色，就会招致我们的仇恨；但只 需一声问候或一个微笑，又会立刻化我们心头的 冰霜】
天堂午餐 A mother is a person who if she is not there when you get home from school you wouldn‘t know how to get your dinner, and you wouldn’t feel like eating it anyway. 当你放学回家的时候， 如果母亲不在家里，你就不知道该吃些什么，或者什 么都不想吃。 Take the word ‘family’. Strike out the ‘m’ for mother and the ‘y’ for youth--and all you have left is ‘fail’. 看看 “ 家庭 ” （ family ）这个字眼吧。划去 代表 “ 母亲 ” （ mother ）的 “m” 和代表 “ 青春 ” （ youth ） 的 “y”—— 你就只剩下了 “ 失败 ” （ fail ）了。
四级词汇 graceful adj. 优雅的；得体的 chart n. 图；图表 preceding adj. 在先的；前面的 decay n. 变坏；腐烂 v.( 使 ) 腐烂； ( 使 ) 变坏 decayed adj. 变坏的；腐烂的 pit n. 坑 v. 使有小凹痕；使相斗 pit A against B 使 A 与 B 相斗 switch n. 开关；电闸；改变；转换 v. （使）改变；（使）转换 skeleton n. 骨骼；骨架；梗概；提要 骨瘦如柴的人或动物 loose adj. 松动的 loosely adv. 松动地；松弛地
secure v. 固定；绑紧；使安全；保卫 adj. 安全的；保险的；可依赖的；有把握的 fluid n. 液体 adj. 流动的；流体的；易变动的 drip v. 使滴下 n. 水滴 pulse n. 脉搏； ( 有规律的 ) 跳动；波动；脉冲 v.( 脉 ) 搏动；跳动 straw n. 吸管；稻草；秸秆 moisture n. 潮湿 moist adj. 潮湿的；润湿的 slide v. 滑动；滑行；悄悄移动；潜行 n. 滑动；滑溜；滑面；滑道；幻灯片 thirst n. 渴；口渴；渴望 procedure n. 程序；步骤；手续
Part 1 I have never seen Mrs. Clark before, but I know from her medical chart and the report I received from the preceding shift that tonight she will die.
The only light in her room is coming from a piece of medical equipment, which is flashing its red light as if in warning.As I stand there, the smell hits my nose, and I close my eyes as I remember the smell of decay from past experience.In my mouth I have a sour,vinegar taste coming from thepitof my stomach.I reach for the light switch, and as it silently lights the scene, I return to the bed to observe the patient with an unemotional, medical eye. Mrs. Clark is dying.She lies motionless: The head seems unusually large on a skeleton body; the skin is dark yellow and hang loosely around exaggerated bones that not even a blanket can hide; the right arm lies straight out at the side, taped cruelly to a board to secure a needle so that fluid may dripin; the left arm is across the sunken chest, which rises and falls with the uneven breaths. Part 2
I reach for the long, thin fingers that are lying on the chest.They are ice-cold, and I quickly move to the wrist and feel for the faint pulse.Mrs. Clark's eyes open somewhat as her head turns toward me slightly.I bend close to her and scarcely hear as she whispers, "Water".Taking a glass of water from the table, I put my finger over the end of the straw and allow a few drops of the cool moisture to slide into her mouth and ease her thirst.She makes no attempt to swallow; there is just not enough strength."More," the dry voice says, and we repeat the procedure.This time she does manage to swallow some liquid and weakly says, "Thank, you."
She is too weak for conversation, so without asking, I go about providing for her needs.Picking her up in my arms like a child, I turn her on her side.Naked, except for a light hospital gown, she is so very small and light that she seems like a victim of some terrible famine.I remove the lid from a jar of skin cream and put some on the palm of my hand.Carefully, to avoid injuring her, I rub cream into the yellow skin, which rolls freely over the bones, feeling perfectly the outline of each bone in the back.Placing a pillow between her legs, I notice that these too are ice-cold, and not until I run my hand up over her knees do I feel any of the life- giving warmth of blood.
When I am finished, I pull a chair up beside the bed to face her and, taking her free hand between mine, again notice the long, thin fingers.Graceful. I wonder briefly if she has any family, and then I see that there are neither flowers, nor pictures of rainbows and butterflies drawn by children, nor cards.There is nohintin the room anywhere that this is a person who is loved.As though she is a mind reader, Mrs. Clark answers my thoughts and quietly tells me, "I sent... my family... home... tonight... didn't want... them... to see..."Having spent her last ounce of strength she cannot go on, but I have understood what she has done.Not knowing what to say, I say nothing.Again she seems to sense my thoughts, "You... stay..."
Time seems to stand still.In the total silence, I feel my own pulse quicken and hear my breathing as it begins to match hers, breath for uneven breath.Our eyes meet and somehow, together, we become aware that this is a special moment between two human beings...Her long fingers curl easily around my hand and I nod my head slowly, smiling.Without words, through yellowed eyes, I receive my thank-you and her eyes slowly close.
Some unknown interval of time passes before her eyes open again, only this time there is no response in them, just a blank stare.Without warning, her shallow breathing stops, and within a few moments, the faint pulse is also gone.One single tear flows from her left eye, across the cheek and down onto the pillow.I begin to cry quietly.There is a swell of emotin within me for this stranger who so quickly came into and went from my life.Her suffering is done, yet so is the life.Slowly, still holding her hand, I become aware that I do not mind this emotional battle, that in fact, it was a privilege she has allowed me, and I would do it again, gladly.Mrs. Clark spared her family an episode that perhaps they were not equipped to handle and instead shared it with me.She had not wanted to have her family see her die, yet she did not want to die alone.No one should die alone, and I am glad I was there for her.
Two days later, I read about Mrs. Clark in the newspaper. She was the mother of seven, grandmother of eighteen, an active member of her church, a leader of volunteer associations in her community, a concert piano player, and a piano teacher for over thirty years. Yes, they were long and graceful fingers. Part 3