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試譯A Volunteer Service Meaningful to Me

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我一向只求達意    無豐富詞藻

相較於懷玉的英文用詞    我的譯文非常白話

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一次有意義的志工經驗

由於媽媽在地區醫院當過數年一般志工，我對志工服務內容有相當的瞭解。我曾經用血壓計幫病人量血壓，在復健中心幫忙整理器材，也嘗試以生硬台語唸故事給年老的病人聽。在媽媽轉到安寧病房服務後，我到醫院當志工的機會就減少了；當時我認為安寧病房處理的是「死亡」問題，而對十歲的我來說，這主題毋寧太嚴肅了些。這種心態持續到我十四歲，那年，我做了最有意義的志工服務！

那年六月，家人發現了一張海報，某安寧病房將為末期癌症病人舉辦慶生會，病房徵求志工在慶生會上表演。這對我和家人是全新的經驗，我們決定提出申請，做四十分鐘的志願表演，內容包括說故事、唱歌、跳舞，這些表演都搭配我的小提琴演奏。我們瞭解表演的對象是末期病人，深知此次表演對他們的重要性，因此花了很多時間和心力來準備每個細節。

在一個星期的準備中，我每天練好幾小時的小提琴；由於兼任主持人，要在表演節目間穿插介紹台灣老歌或舞蹈，我也必須熟記台語串場台詞。排演時，每次我一出錯，全家總是大笑不已，不過我堅信，我可以勝任這些角色。

再過一個星期，我們和八個病人身處一個不大的表演場地，有些病人是坐著輪椅來，有些則躺在病床上。我對病人的回應無所期待，只想著專心表演。當我以台語歌開場，燈光打在我身上時，我看到了病人的反應，他們很喜歡我的表演；表演結束時，他們還報以微弱但持續的掌聲。我知道病人是盡全力表達感謝，於是深深鞠躬以答謝，也努力克制即將滑落臉頰的淚水。之後的表演，只記得我對那些眼中閃耀光采與激動的病人，回以一貫的微笑。我還記得，有些病人開口合唱呢！

慶生會的最後，我們切完生日蛋糕，「象徵性地」分送給病人，因為有些病人實際上是無法吃蛋糕了，這真令人傷心。我走向一位阿嬤，有點難過地遞給她蛋糕，阿嬤注視著我，平靜、滿足地說：「或許告一段落了！」聽到這句話，我天真地以為她指的是這慶生會在愉快中告一段落，頓時開心了些，還對她微笑。結果卻是病房在三天後通知我，阿嬤過世了。得知這椎心刺骨的消息，媽媽撫著我的肩頭安慰我，提醒我說：「別忘了，是你在慶生會上逗樂阿嬤……」，她也告訴我，阿嬤能平安離世，就是最大的福報。

從此，我瞭解安寧病房不只處理死亡問題，它也致力為離世前的病人創造最美的回憶。病人帶不走身體，但這些美好的回憶卻常駐心中，陪伴他們走向下一世的未知旅程。我體悟到，能參與這項神聖的任務是莫大的榮幸，而這次志工服務經驗不僅難忘和饒富意義，也讓我對生與死有一番全新的洞察。

A Volunteer Service Meaningful to Me

Having a mother who has been a volunteer at a local hospital for years, I am familiar with a variety of volunteer services. I have measured the blood pressure of some patients with diabetes, I have sorted out equipments used at rehabilitation unit, and I have even told some folk stories to the elder patients there in Taiwanese. However, when my mother moved to a specific unit that was in charge of palliative care, my frequency of volunteer lowered, because I thought that the unit spent most of its time dealing with death. I was only ten, and death was too much of a serious issue to talk about. Therefore, the situation remained unchanged until I turned fourteen, when I did the most meaningful volunteer service in my life.

  That year in June, my family and I noticed a poster of a birthday party held for the patients suffering from terminal cancer by the Palliative Care Unit. The Unit was asking for some entertaining acts that could be performed at the party. It was all new to me and my family, so we signed up to cover a forty-minute performing time, of course, as volunteers. We came up with an act that involved story-telling, singing, and a bit of dancing, and all were accompanied by the music I played with my violin. It took us a vast amount of time and effort to carry out the whole elaborate plan, but we all knew for whom we were going to perform and how important it might be to them.

  We spent a week rehearsing, and I was practicing playing the violin for hours every day. Moreover, I needed to remember lines in Taiwanese as I had to switch to a hosting role introducing some of our singing or dancing numbers that involved traditional Taiwanese music. There was always laughter during rehearsal because of my mistakes, but I told myself that I could see it through.

  Another week after, we were in a little room with eight other patients, some in their wheelchairs, and some on their wards, I didn’t know what to expect, so I thought I would just play along and see. The spotlight was on me when I started our performance with an old Taiwanese song. I observed the reactions of the patients as I played. It was well-received, and the song was met with weak yet nonstop applause as it came to an end. I knew that they were trying their best to show their biggest appreciation, so I took a deep bow and tried hard to suppress the tears threatening to roll down my face. For the rest of the performance, I only knew that I was consumed by waves of complicated emotions while maintaining my typical grin at the patients, from whose eyes radiating lights and excitement. They even sang to some of the songs occasionally!

  We concluded the party cutting the birthday cake and delivered it to the patients symbolically, because sadly, most of them could never taste a cake anymore. I walked up to an old woman and handed her the piece of cake with slight sorrow. She looked into my eyes, smiling, ‘Maybe it’s time to call it a day,’ she said calmly and in content. My heart brightened, and I smiled back, naively thinking that she was referring to the end of the wonderful party. The truth was, three days later, I was informed that she had passed away in her sleep. My heart was shattered upon hearing the news. My mother put a comforting hand on my shoulder and reminded me that it was I that inspired her lovely smile, and that her peaceful leaving should be the biggest reward.

  From that day, I learned that volunteering under Palliative Care Unit wasn’t just about dealing with death. It was about creating some of the best memories for the patient before they left this world. They couldn’t take along with them anything physically, but their happy memories would remain in their hearts and accompany them through the next, unknown part of their afterlife journey. I realized how lucky I was to participate in this sacred task. I felt honored to be part of someone’s last memories. This volunteer service was not only unforgettable and meaningful, but it also gave me a completely new insight into life and death.