如果你想学医学英语和口译，一起来学一波医疗英语口译。希望对大家的学习有所帮助。 Anxiety Attacks Anxiety attacks are sometimes interpreted, by society at large but also by their confused, guilty or shamed sufferers, as an illness close to madness: the result of a mysterious chemically-based flaw in the brain that severs us from the reality of normality. The suggested treatment is therefore medical, involving forceful attempts to dampen and anaesthetise parts of the misfiring mind. Yet such an interpretation – however kind in its intentions – depends on one assumption: that the normal response to the conditions of existence should be calm. But why should it be, given the obvious insanity of the world? The root cause of an anxiety attack is just unusual sensitivity to a madness in the world that most people dampen out. Of course, once you think about it, it’s entirely understandable that one might have an anxiety attack at a party, when talking to a colleague or on a crowded train. There is genuine terror beneath the surface of such things. In her great novel Middlemarch, the 19th-century English writer George Eliot, a deeply self-aware but also painfully self-conscious and anxious figure, reflected on what it would be like if we were truly sensitive, open to the world and felt the implications of everything: “If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.” It is, as Eliot recognises, both a privilege and a profound nightmare to hear that grass growing and that squirrel’s heart beating – and, also, by extension, to feel everything so deeply. We might well, as she sometimes did, long for a little more ‘well-wadded stupidity’ to block it all out.
