在門診診間裡,我們每天都在與疼痛對決。檢測報告上的數據、復健的進度、藥物的劑量,都是我們衡量康復的標準。然而,行醫久了,有時會在某些病患的眼神裡,捕捉到一種令人困惑的寂靜。 那是一種在得知病情好轉時,非但沒有鬆一口氣,反而閃過一絲抗拒與迷茫的眼神。 後來我才明白,在某些病患的潛意識裡,其實有一部分是並不想好起來的。 很多時候,無法痊癒的痼疾、反覆發作的疼痛所承載的,是無法言說的委屈與不甘心。因為內心的傷痕是看不見的,只好轉化成身體上的病痛與殘缺。 In the consulting room, our daily work is a battle against pain. We measure recovery by the numbers on investigation reports, the progress in rehabilitation, and the dosages of medication. Yet, after years in practice, I occasionally catch something confounding in the eyes of certain patients. It is a look that surfaces the moment they are told their condition is improving—not a sigh of relief, but a fleeting shadow of resistance and bewilderment. Only later did I come to understand that, deep within the subconscious of some patients, a part of them simply does not wish to get better. More often than not, chronic ailments that refuse to heal and recurrent pains carry a weight of unspoken resentment and grievance. Because the scars of the mind remain invisibl...