Remaining Life, Rebirth: The First Morning Back Home
民國114年12月28日。
清晨醒來，意識還在半夢半醒間徘徊。慣性使然，恐懼先於思緒一步湧上心頭——我在想，是不是又要有人強行掰開我的嘴，灌入那股我最厭惡的牛奶味？
在養老院的日子，早晨是從痛苦開始的。我不喜歡牛奶，更不想喝牛奶，但在那裡，我沒有說「不」的權利。外籍照服員為了省事，總是用灌的方式強迫我喝完，乳白色的液體常噴濺得整件衣服都是漬跡。我曾哀求大兒子停止支付那筆奶粉錢，以為沒了錢，我就能免於這場儀式，但我的願望從未實現。
因為巴金森氏症，我的身體成了我最親近卻也最陌生的囚籠，僵硬的手腳不聽使喚，無法反抗；因為青光眼，我的世界只剩無盡的黑暗。我只能像具木偶，任由他們擺布。
直到左手小指傳來一陣鑽心的刺痛。
那痛覺像是一道閃電，擊碎了殘存的噩夢。我突然意識到：我不在養老院了。我在家。在那個闊別三年、真正屬於我的家。我不再需要忍受那令人窒息的灌奶，我可以決定我要吃什麼，我自由了。
December 28, 114th year of the Republic of China
I woke up this morning, my consciousness still lingering in a half-dreaming, half-awake state. Inertia kicked in, and fear surged into my heart before any thought could form—I wondered, would someone force open my mouth again and force-feed me that milk flavor I loathed most?
In the nursing home, mornings began in agony. I disliked milk, and I didn’t want to drink it, but there, I had no right to say “no.” The foreign caregivers, to save time, always forced me to drink it, the milky liquid often splattering all over my clothes. I begged my eldest son to stop paying for the milk powder, thinking that without the money, I could escape this ritual, but my wish was never fulfilled.
Because of Parkinson’s disease, my body became my closest yet most alien prison; my stiff limbs were unresponsive, unable to resist; because of glaucoma, my world was nothing but endless darkness. I could only be like a puppet, at their mercy. Until a piercing pain shot through my left little finger.
The pain was like a lightning bolt, shattering the remaining nightmare. I suddenly realized: I was no longer in the nursing home. I was at home. In that home I had left three years ago, a home that truly belonged to me. I no longer needed to endure that suffocating force-feeding; I could decide what I wanted to eat; I was free.
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