Fifteen months ago，Paul Ruscavich lay on the hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his head from crown to the nostrils，his body swollen to about twice its normal size．Nurses and doctors came and went，pricked him with hypodermic（1）needles，asked him questions，shook his arms，as machines gurgled（2）and hummed．Paul remained perfectly still，like a mummy，day and night．On the Glasgow Coma Scale，the standard measure of unconsciousness，he scored 4out of a possible 15，indicating a deep coma（3）．
On a cold Saturday night two days earlier， Paul，his wife，and a friend were broadsided as another car ran a red light．When the emergency medical service arrived，their 1976 Charger was upside down and Paul was sprawled on the pavement，his head busted open（4）．Doctors at Stonybrook Medical Center on Long Island，New York，predicted he wouldn't live through the night with such massive head injuries．When he did，they said he'd die the following day．But each hour brought good news to the 29-year-old's friends and family assembled outside the intensive care ward．He was alive．
“That's Paul？”thought his wife，Holly，a 24-year-old former secretary，who was found wandering down the highway drenched in gasoline，in a daze．It took a while for her to register that under the bandages Paul had only one eye left．Nearly every bone in his face was broken，and he was paralyzed on his right side．Married only two years，Holly was devastated（5）．Most of all，she wanted the awful waiting to beover；she wanted some signs of what the future would hold．
But for days，then weeks，Paul hung on in a state between unconsciousness and death． Would he，as doctors suggested，remain comatose for life（6）？Or would Paul wake up tomorrow？Would his brain find a way to recuperate and fire up again？
Holly tried her best not to become paralyzed by such questions．If Paul twitched a finger，she jumped，thinking he was waking up．But by the time the nurses responded to her call that he was stirring，he'd be motionless again．Two and a half weeks after the car accident，Holly was with her mother-in-law at the hospital when a doctor casually mentioned that they might want to try to wake Paul up．Doctors still don't know what treatments or stimulation therapies help a patient emerge from a coma，so families often get conflicting or delayed advice．Holly strode over to Paul 's bed．
“It was Oh my God，this is the first thing I can do for him，”Holly remembers．“So I was screaming，‘Wake up！Wake up！Get yourself out of bed！You've been in bed two and a half weeks．Get the hell out of bed！’I was really mad．I guess we were mad at ourselves for not trying to wake him up before，that we might have helped him and didn't．We didn't know．”
As the two of them yelled and swore at Paul，he started hiccupping ，and he tried to scratch at his feeding tube．Although Paul's movements weren't significant enough to impress the doctors—gastric responses are involuntary— Holly took it as a sign that he had heard her．A hiccup gave her hope．
Things looked grim as Jim Polan，a Fort Lauderdale，Florida，police sergeant，carried his limp，pregnant wife into the emergency room one night in September 1994Michele，a 23-year-old firefighter，had complained of a terrible headache all day．About midnight Jim called her obstetrician，and following his orders，put an ice pack on Michele's head，elevated her feet on the couch，then went to bed．Minutes later he awakened to alarming noises．Downstairs，he found Michele passed out（7）on the couch，moaning．
A CAT scan revealed massive bleeding on the right side of her head，caused by a weak blood vessel that ruptured under the stress of the pregnancy（8）．The couple's families were summoned to the hospital as the life-and-death crisis unfolded．Dozens of relatives，firefighters，police officers，and friends crowded the hallway and waiting room，waiting for news．A quick cesarean section（9）brought out a four-pound seven-ounce boy six weeks before the due date；Jim named him Jeremy Michael．As doctors operated to drain blood from Michele's brain，news drifted out to the waiting room that she wasn't doing well and that the baby was paralyzed．Family members saw the baby's incubator being rushed down the hallway away from them．
The long night of waiting turned into another endless day，with Michele barely hanging on．Her father，Bucky GREene，a retired police officer，remembers the relief when they learned the baby was okay，then his fears that his son-in-law would have to raise the child alone．“The doctors were telling us to prepare for the worst，her dying，”Jim says．In the ICU he sat beside Michele and moved her arms and legs as instructed，washed her，then ran downstairs every three or four hours to feed Jeremy while others took over vigil．“Two days after surgery， the doctor told us that she didn't see her coming out of the coma，”he says．“That's when we made arrangements with the hospital to bring Jeremy to Michele．We thought it might be the only opportunity for the two of them to be together．”
The baby was brought in and placed， howling，on Michele's chest，which thumped up and down to the rhythm of the breathing ma-chine and the pressure pants that helped circulate blood through her legs．Jim took the infant's hands and rubbed her face with them．“The whole thing was so rough，”he remembers．“I wouldn't put my worst enemy through that．” Even the nurses turned away．
During the next few days the neurologist did everything short of advising that the family to remove Michele from life support．Her brain stem appeared severely impaired（10）and tests showed little brain activity．The family，however，knew how strong Michele was，and they wanted to give her more of a chance；they set up a schedule so that she was never alone，and delegated baby care to others．Jim's buddies at the station house worked his shifts，even his overtime，so he would continue to gethis regular paycheck ．A friend sent plates of catered food to the hospital，to keep up the strength of family members who sat vigil．
With the passing days，the situation GREw sadder．Yet the more unbearable it became，the tighter the family seemed to get under the strain．Finally，after 13 days of rain，Bucky and Jim opened the blinds early one morning， and sunshine poured into the hospital room． They looked over at Michele and saw she'd opened one eye halfway—and wherever they walked，her eye followed．
The two police officers sat down and wept．
．．．
About a week after Michele Polan opened her eyes，she was transferred to a rehabilitation hospital（11）．Again，doctors weren't optimistic． Michele's muscle coordination was so impaired she couldn't speak or eat and could barely grasp someone's hand．The baby was now home， keeping Jim up at night．Even so，Jim came every day to the hospital and nudged Michele through her brutal therapy sessions（12）．To everyone's surprise，she spoke haltingly and in a deeper，more monotone voice than before．
Gaining control of the rest of her body proved trickier．Her legs and arms，locked in a stiff position during the coma，had to be pried out with casts and therapy．When Jim went home at night，a friend or relative stayed into the early hours，to be there when she awakened in tears from what felt like a dozen charley horses（13）up and down her legs．
As Michele struggled with her recovery，her grandfather died unexpectedly．Then Jim's father died of cancer．The sadness seemed over-whelming to the family，but instead of suffocating under it，they came to watch Michele，in tears，relearning how to put on a shirt．She got better each day，far surpassing her doctors'expectations．But without her short-term memory， Michele didn't see the improvement．She didn't know what she'd been like last week，or two days ago．She couldn't even remember being pregnantcy．All she could compare herself to was what she was like before the coma，before her pregnant，which depressed her．To keep her motivated，Jim brought the baby to visit every evening and did anything to get her to try harder．
On Thanksgiving，less than two months after her coma，Michele came home for dinner in an ambulance，driven by her old colleagues．Jim cut her food and helped her eat．In December she regained control of her neck．But late in January she was home for good，months earlier than doctors predicted．She could walk，albeit with a limp，carry the baby，even unscrew bottles．Not wanting another tragedy，the family set up a schedule so that Michele was never alone，but the arrangement bugged her so much they discontinued it after about a month．She did fine．
Now，almost two years after her accident，Michele takes pleasure in showing that doctors had been wrong about almost every aspect of her coma and recovery．She rides a bicycle and works out to regain the strength and coordination necessary to get her job back at the firehouse．Her mind is so sharp，she's already repassed her paramedic's test．She's mostly back to normal except for a sway in her gait when she's not paying attention．
Her father is so proud he wells up with tears watching Michele and her baby play．“I've been a police officer for 32 years，but this really slammed me，”he says．“Before I was just a cynical cop．I now cry at movies and stuff like a woman．My feeling is，let's get in as much life now as we can．”
On April 18，a full year and eight surgeries after his first hiccup，Paul Ruscavich came home from the hospital dressed in sweats，a cap，and sunglasses that Holly had brought toconceal his impairments．He still can't talk or walk，and communicates by nodding about 80 percent of the time．Although he's been able to eat a few bites of Italian ice，Paul is still hooked up to（14）a feeding tube．He can stand，but only with assistance in a“standing box”．Each morning Holly tells him who he is，where he is， what happened to him，and what day it is．“He's not so responsive today，”says Holly with a sigh as she fidgets with his shirt collar．On good days，she says，he can do portions of a 60-piece puzzle，catch a ball，write some words and messages，including scribbling the letter H inside a heart．
That particular heart is arranged under a glass-top coffee table next to dozens of pictures and cards from the hospital．Every night they go over the pictures，and she asks him to identify people．“He used to be 10 percent accurate．”Holly says．“Now he gets people's names right about 80 percent of the time．”Holly shows off their wedding photo and says she doesn't want much out of life anymore except for them to have a family．
On the Rancho Los Amigos Scale，he is close to level seven，she says，sometimes trying to dress himself and able to pull himself out of a wheelchair．His social worker，Annette Hoffmann，however，reveals later that his official diagnosis is a bit lower，closer to a six．“Holly sees things that the therapists don't．A lot of that is getting her to be realistic，”Hoffmann explains．“Paul is severely impaired．Some people who've had head injuries are able to recover to a point where if you met them you might think they're slow or not paying attention．I don't think Paul will get there．”It's impossible to tell what's going on in his head as Holly prepares to give him a kiss．She leans down， wraps her arms loosely around his neck，and puckers up(15)．He stiffens．He's not looking at her．“You a little embarrassed？”she asks loudly．“Embarrassed？”Paul's lip，ever so slightly，curls up．Then she turns．“I don't think he wants to kiss in front of you．”
Mark the following as True or False
1．Paul was close to a six on the Rancho Los Amigos Scale．
2．Three days after surgery the doctor told them that she didn't see Michele coming out of the coma．
3．Bucky GREene was a retired policeman．
答案：
1—3 FFT
Notes：1．皮下注射的2．机器声嘤嘤嗡嗡响个不停3．按照格拉斯昏迷度量制———测量昏迷的标准———他在合理的15分中得了4分，15分表明是深度昏迷。4．头已被撞裂5．结婚才两年，Holly一下子不知所措。6．一辈子昏迷不醒 7．昏倒；失去知觉8．CAT扫描结果显示，她的右半脑大量出血。这是由于怀孕的压力致使一根细小的血管破裂而造成的。9．剖产手术10．她的脑干已经出现严重损伤。11．伤残康复医院12．那段令人目不忍睹的治疗时间 13．〈美〉四头肌僵硬 14.与……联系 15. 噘起嘴
