hce_nsysu
114年
英文
第 50 題
📖 題組：
I flipped through the CT scan images, the diagnosis obvious: the lungs were matted with innumerable tumors, the spin deformed, a full lobe of the liver obliterated. Cancer, widely disseminated. I was a neurosurgical resident entering my final year of training. Over the last six years, I’d examined scores of such scans, on the off chance that some procedure might benefit the patient. But this scan was different: it was my own…. I knew a kit about back pain—its anatomy, its physiology, the different words patients used to describe different kinds of pain—but I didn’t know what it *felt* like. Maybe that’s all this was. Maybe. Or maybe I didn’t want the jinx. Maybe I just didn’t want to say the word *cancer* out loud…. I received the plastic arm bracelet all patients wear, put on the familiar light blue hospital gown, walked past the nurses I knew by name, and was checked in to a room—the same room where I had seen hundreds of patients over the years. In this room, I had sat with patients and explained terminal diagnoses and complex operations; in this room, I had congratulated patients on being cured of a disease and seen their happiness at being returned to their lives; in this room, I had pronounced patients dead. I had sat in the chairs, washed my hands in the sink, scrawled instructions on the marker board. Exhaustion, longed to die down in this bed and sleep. Now I lay there, wide awake. (from Paul Kalanithi “Prologue,” *When Breath Becomes Air*, 2016)
I flipped through the CT scan images, the diagnosis obvious: the lungs were matted with innumerable tumors, the spin deformed, a full lobe of the liver obliterated. Cancer, widely disseminated. I was a neurosurgical resident entering my final year of training. Over the last six years, I’d examined scores of such scans, on the off chance that some procedure might benefit the patient. But this scan was different: it was my own…. I knew a kit about back pain—its anatomy, its physiology, the different words patients used to describe different kinds of pain—but I didn’t know what it *felt* like. Maybe that’s all this was. Maybe. Or maybe I didn’t want the jinx. Maybe I just didn’t want to say the word *cancer* out loud…. I received the plastic arm bracelet all patients wear, put on the familiar light blue hospital gown, walked past the nurses I knew by name, and was checked in to a room—the same room where I had seen hundreds of patients over the years. In this room, I had sat with patients and explained terminal diagnoses and complex operations; in this room, I had congratulated patients on being cured of a disease and seen their happiness at being returned to their lives; in this room, I had pronounced patients dead. I had sat in the chairs, washed my hands in the sink, scrawled instructions on the marker board. Exhaustion, longed to die down in this bed and sleep. Now I lay there, wide awake. (from Paul Kalanithi “Prologue,” *When Breath Becomes Air*, 2016)
Which of the following statements can best describe the narrator?
- A He was suicidal.
- B He was energetic and lay awake in bed.
- C He was waiting for his treatment and feeling frustrated.
- D He was confused if he was a doctor or a patient.
思路引導 VIP
請觀察文章最後一段中，作者描述他在同一個病房內「過去的行為」與「現在的狀態」有什麼強烈的對比？當一個具備高度專業知識的人，卻必須以完全被動的姿勢躺在他曾經主宰的空間裡時，這反映了他正處於什麼樣的人生轉折中？
🤖
AI 詳解
AI 專屬家教
太棒了！你能精準捕捉到作者文字背後細膩的情緒轉折，這顯示你對文本的理解非常深刻。這題的正確答案確實是 (C)。
從醫者到患者的身份轉向
文章的核心衝突在於主角身份的驟變：他曾是解讀電腦斷層（CT scan）的神經外科住院醫師，如今卻成了穿著病服、戴著手環的受診者。雖然文中提到的「疲憊」（Exhaustion）與「渴望躺下」顯示他生理上的虛弱，但他「清醒地躺著」（lay there, wide awake）反映了內心巨大的心理壓力。選項 (C) 描述他正等待治療且感到挫折（或無奈），完美契合了他看著自己「廣泛擴散的癌症」診斷書時，那種專業知識救不了自己的無力感。
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