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It was well after mid night, wrapped in my warm fleecy robe I stood silently staring out the ninth floor window of the daunting New York hospital. I was staring at the 59th Street Bridge. It was as sparkling and beautiful as a Christmas tree. New York city has always been special to me; the Broadway theatre, the music, the restaurants from the delis to the Tavern On the Green. This is what the city is supposed to be about,I thought, dreading the morning to come and all the uncertainty it held. But the morning did come and at nine a.m. on that March 17th, I was wheeled into an operating room. Eleven hours and fort yfive minutes later I was wheeled into a recovery room and a very few hours after being returned to my own hospital room I found myself actually on my feet, half walking, half propelled by medical equipment and members of my family. The orders were to walk the length and back of the long hospital corridor. 时间早就过了午夜了，在雄伟威严的纽约医院，我裹在暖暖的羊毛睡袍里，静静地站在九楼病房的窗前凝视窗外。我看着眼前的第59街大桥，它像圣诞树般闪闪发光，美丽动人。在我心中，纽约一直有一个特别的位置，有百老汇的戏院，音乐，和形形色色、档次各异的餐馆。这个城市本来就应该是这样的，我想着，对即将到来的一天和它将带来的未知之数感到异常担心。但那天还是来了，就在那天，3月17日的早上9点，我被推进了手术室。11个小时45分钟后，我又被推进了疗养室，在被送回自己的病房后，仅仅几个小时，我就已经能下地行走了一半是自己在走，一半是被医疗器械和家人推着走。按医嘱，我要在医院的长廊里走一个来回。 | 
