1992年2月21日星期五在日本，因流產而需要做手術。整個手術過程中醫生自然是忙碌的，但我也沒閒著。手術後我立刻坐在病床上急急忙忙、歪歪扭扭、錯字百出地把剛剛的那段經歷寫下來。但凡來探望的人，都會聽到我繪聲繪色地講述這段離奇的經歷。他們都納悶兒，剛剛做過手術的我，怎麼還能有那麼好的精神、體力，沒有應有的傷感和憂鬱。
以下是我記錄在筆記本裡的經歷，筆記本裡錯字百出，比如「想知道」，我卻寫成了「想只到」，這個錯誤好像是用電腦打字輸入拼音時才容易犯的啊，我當時是手寫，怎麼會犯這樣的錯誤。
我整理過的文字如下：
上午11：00進手術室，大約一個小時左右出來。使用全身麻醉不是第一次了，但是今天感覺很奇怪。前兩次腿骨的手術，麻醉時全部失去感覺。
但今天，當護士說開始加入麻醉劑時，麻醉劑從左臂彎處吊著的輸液管進入，瞬時的感覺是有股強風但不感覺涼，從腦的左面衝入，將我推出我的軀體。
接著是，順著這股勁力「我」這個我只有靈魂與眼睛存在，以光的速度在一個深奧的洞裡暢遊起來。在剛開始飛的時候我還低頭看了看，確實沒見自己的身子、手、腳。什麼都沒有，但能看，也能感到速度，就以為眼睛還在，其實肉眼在手術台上呢。
洞裡是明亮的，圍壁彷彿是以天藍與白色的塑料做成的，凹凸有致。我忽上忽下地飛著，突然一落千丈進入了一個個「房間」（那時的房間與生活中的不一樣）我在這「房間」裡到處找尋，想知道我在哪兒。
但那個地方現在想起來好像是宇宙的空間。空曠，一無所有，只有我的幽靈四處遊蕩。遠遠的、遠遠的可以聽到有人說話的聲音，是超慢速度的變聲的說話聲音。這可能是醫生與護士的談話聲。而我一直在尋找，想弄清我在什麼地方。
突然，我找到了我的軀體。當時的感覺是那個只有精神的「我」突然找到我的身體躺在什麼地方。剎那間，我已在軀體內。整個軀體還沒有形象，像一團濃霧，在顫抖，只有幾秒鐘，這抖動的東西形成了整個的我。有手有腳。我感到我的呼吸，同時感到下身有東西被拉出的感覺，腰酸痛。
我聽到我在呻吟，感到醫生在從下身取出什麼東西。感到一下輕鬆許多。感到我在大喘氣。我聽到我在說話，「Jesus」這是我第一句話，接著說「すいません」（日語：對不起。因為我立刻意識到了剛剛的說法不太好。基督教信仰中，Jesus是上帝的兒子，直呼其名是不尊重的。當然有西方人遇到突發的令人不快的事時，會脫口而出「Jesus!」那等於說「Oh no!」 。我當時一醒過來便嘟囔了一句「Jesus!」，表達的也是那個意思：天哪！難受極了！）。在淺醒半昏之時我不時的睜開無力的眼睛想弄清我在什麼地方。恍惚中我看到的手術室的無影燈與屋頂。
手術很成功沒有出血，只有黃色的液體流出一點可能是藥物。
手術後12點多J與K來過，他們是趁搬家的間隙來的。問了結果就走了。F、K、N來探望，送了三枝紅玫瑰花。 F幾乎每天來探望，她自己還要去醫院檢查。
之後很長的一段時間裡，我一直有一種期盼，總希望能夠找到誰（當然我沒有去找過），心理醫生或科學家能給我的這段經歷一個滿意的解釋。
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| 這是用電腦打亮過的明亮度更符合當時的情景 This image has been brightened using a computer; the brightness matches the actual scene back then much better. |
1992年2月28日來到美國，開始長住。在1993年5月14日那一天，我試著將我的經歷體驗用油畫的形式表達出來。可是技巧不夠，沒有畫出一落千丈後那一間間，連在一起的不規則的「屋子」，其實是不同大小、深淺、自然相連的洞穴，以及那自然凹凸的洞壁。畫的是一雙帶著速度的我的眼睛，以光的速度，飛進一個深奧的洞，那是在一落千丈之前。如今想來當時的我是不是進入了「時空隧道」呢？
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| 東海大學附屬醫院 Panoramic view of the hospital affiliated with Tunghai University |
我在當時就讀的東海大學附屬醫院裡看病。婦人科醫師50多歲，他在給病人檢查時，是看不到病人的上半身和臉的。一間長方形大屋子的中間並排放置好幾個檢查床，床與床之間由一人多高淺藍色的布簾子隔著，床中間還橫掛著一塊簾子，形成H形狀。也就是說，這間大屋子當中橫向排列著五六個H布簾隔間。類似這個樣子：HHHHHH，這排H的一側靠走廊，另一側靠窗。兩頭的簾子一拉上就像個「日」字。
病人由護士領著從走廊一側進入H的小半間裡，換上護士遞過來的一件薄褂子，躺在檢查床上，腰腹部以下就被簾子隔到了另一邊，靜靜地等待。醫生帶著護士在靠窗的一側給病人挨個兒檢查。都檢查完了，換好衣服，病人才又一個個輪著被帶到大屋子頂頭醫生的辦公桌旁，坐聽醫生的講解，領取藥方。給我做手術的是個年輕的醫生。
在美國，去的基本上都是私人診所。我看過的婦科醫生中有男的也有女的。診所裡一般都有三四個檢查室。每個屋子裡就一個檢查床。病人換好褂子後在檢查床上等醫生。沒有簾子隔開醫生與病人，一般醫生檢查時還很友好、有的還很幽默地與病人交談、了解病情。一般男醫生給病人檢查時都帶著個女護士在邊上。
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A Parallel Dimension in 1992: An Encounter with the Soul, Anesthesia, and a Time Tunnel
On Friday, February 21, 1992, while in Japan, I had to undergo surgery due to a miscarriage. During the entire procedure, the doctor was naturally busy, but I wasn't idle either. Immediately after the surgery, sitting on my hospital bed, I hurriedly and unsteadily scribbled down the experience I had just been through, my notes riddled with typos. Afterward, anyone who came to visit heard me recount this bizarre experience with great vividness. They were all astonished at how I could possess such excellent spirits and stamina right after surgery, lacking the sorrow and melancholy one would normally expect.
The following is the experience as recorded in my notebook. It was full of miswritten characters; for instance, instead of "wanting to know" (想知道), I wrote "wanting only to" (想只到). This kind of mistake seems like something easily made when typing with a Pinyin input system on a computer, yet I was writing by hand at the time. How could I have made such an error?
My refined transcript of the text reads as follows:
I entered the operating room at 11:00 AM and emerged about an hour later. This was not my first time undergoing general anesthesia, but the sensation today was very strange. During my previous two leg bone surgeries, the anesthesia caused me to lose all sensation entirely. Today, however, when the nurse announced they were administering the anesthetic, it entered through the IV line hooked into the crook of my left arm. Instantly, I felt a gust of strong wind—though it didn't feel cold—rushing into the left side of my brain, pushing me entirely out of my physical body.
Next, riding on this momentum, "I"—this version of me consisting only of a soul and eyes—began to roam freely at the speed of light through a deep, profound cave. When I first began to fly, I even looked down, and indeed, I could not see my own body, hands, or feet. There was nothing at all, but I could see, and I could feel the speed, so I assumed my eyes were still there; in reality, my physical eyes were lying on the operating table.
The inside of the cave was bright, and the surrounding walls seemed to be made of light-blue and white plastic, with natural contours and textures. I flew up and down, and then suddenly plummeted a thousand feet into one "room" after another (the rooms back then were different from those in daily life). I searched everywhere inside these "rooms," wanting to know where I was.
But looking back now, that place seemed like cosmic space. It was vast and completely empty, with nothing but my spirit wandering around. From far, far away, the sound of people talking could be heard—it was the sound of altered voices speaking at an ultra-slow speed. This was probably the conversation between the doctor and the nurses. Meanwhile, I kept searching, trying to figure out where on earth I was.
Suddenly, I found my physical body. The feeling at that moment was that the "I" who possessed only spirit suddenly located where my body was lying. In an instant, I was back inside my physical frame. The entire body did not have a defined shape yet; it was like a thick mist, trembling. For just a few seconds, this shaking thing solidified into the complete me. Hands and feet appeared. I felt my own breathing, and at the same time, I felt something being pulled out from my lower body; my waist was sore and aching.
I heard myself groaning and felt the doctor removing something from my lower body. I felt a wave of immense relief. I felt myself gasping for air. I heard myself speaking. "Jesus" was my very first word, and then I said, "Suimasen" (Japanese for "I'm sorry"). This was because I immediately realized that what I had just said wasn't very appropriate. In the Christian faith, Jesus is the Son of God, and addressing Him directly by name is disrespectful. Of course, when Westerners encounter sudden, unpleasant things, they will blurt out "Jesus!"—which is equivalent to saying "Oh no!" When I first woke up, I muttered "Jesus!" to express exactly that: Good heavens! This is agonizing! In a state of being half-awake and half-unconscious, I opened my weak eyes from time to time, trying to figure out where I was. Through the haze, I saw the shadowless operating lamps and the ceiling of the operating room.
The surgery was very successful with no bleeding; only a tiny amount of yellow fluid flowed out, which was probably medication.
After the surgery, around 12:00 PM, J and K dropped by. They came during a brief gap in their moving schedule. They asked about the result and left right away. F, K, and N came to visit and brought three red roses. F came to visit almost every day, even though she had to go to the hospital for her own checkups as well.
For a long time afterward, I always held a lingering hope, constantly wishing I could find someone (though of course, I never actually went looking)—a psychologist or a scientist—who could give me a satisfying explanation for this experience.
On February 28, 1992, I arrived in the United States to begin my long-term residency. On that day, May 14, 1993, I tried to express my experience and perception in the form of an oil painting. However, my technique was insufficient; I failed to paint those irregular "rooms" connected one after another after that thousand-foot plunge—which were actually caves of different sizes and depths, naturally connected, as well as the naturally contoured cave walls. What I painted was a pair of my own eyes carrying speed, flying at the speed of light into a deep, profound cave, right before that thousand-foot plunge. Looking back now, was I entering a "time tunnel" at that moment?
I went to see the doctor at Tokai University Affiliated Hospital, where I was studying at the time. The gynecologist was in his 50s. When he examined patients, he could not see the patient's upper body or face. In the middle of a large, rectangular room, several examination beds were placed side by side. The beds were separated from one another by light-blue cloth curtains that were slightly taller than a person. Another curtain hung horizontally across the middle of each bed, forming an H-shape. In other words, five or six H-shaped curtained compartments were arranged horizontally across this large room. It looked something like this: HHHHHH. One side of this row of H's faced the corridor, and the other side faced the window. Once the curtains at both ends were drawn, it looked like the character "日" (ri).
Led by a nurse, the patient would enter the smaller half of the H-compartment from the corridor side, change into a thin gown handed over by the nurse, and lie on the examination bed. From the waist and abdomen down, the patient would be separated to the other side by the curtain, waiting quietly. The doctor, bringing along a nurse, would examine the patients one by one from the side facing the window. Once all the examinations were completed and the patients had changed back into their clothes, they would be led one by one to the doctor's office desk at the far end of the large room to sit and listen to the doctor's explanation and receive their prescriptions. The doctor who performed my surgery was a young man.
In the United States, the places I visited were basically private clinics. Among the gynecologists I have seen, there were both men and women. A clinic typically has three or four examination rooms, with only one examination bed in each room. After changing into a gown, the patient waits for the doctor on the examination bed. There is no curtain separating the doctor from the patient. Generally, the doctors are very friendly during the examination, and some even converse with the patient humorously to understand the condition. Usually, when a male doctor examines a patient, he always brings a female nurse along to stand by his side.
特別感謝 Gemini AI 提供充滿活力的翻譯和文本潤色。
Special thanks to Gemini AI for providing the spirited translation and text refinement.
第四百四十四篇
