Just 10 years ago, I sat across the desk from a doctor. "Yes," he said, "there is something wrong with the left, upper lobe . You have a moderately advanced case... You'll have to give up work at once and go to bed. Later on, we'll see." Feeling like a man who is in midcareer has suddenly been placed under sentence of death, I left the doctor's office, walked over to the park, and sat down on a bench. I needed to think. In the next 3 days, I cleared up my affairs, then I went home, got into bed, and set my watch to tick off not the minutes, but the months. Two years later, I left my bed and began the long climb back. It was another year before I made it. I speak of this experience because _ that passed so slowly taught me what to value and what to believe. I realise now that this world I'm living in is not my oyster  to be opened but my opportunity to be grasped. Each day, to me, is a precious thing. The sun comes up and presents me with 24 brandnew, wonderful hours--not to pass, but to fill. I've learned to appreciate those little, allimportant things I never thought I had the time to notice before:the play of light on running water, the music of the wind in my favourite pine tree. I seem now to see and hear and feel with some of the recovered freshness of childhood. How well, for instance, I recall the touch of the springy earth under my feet the day I first stepped upon it after the years in bed. Frequently, I sit back and say to myself, "Let me make note of this moment I'm living right now, because in it I'm well, happy and hard at work doing what I like best to do. It won't always be like this, so while it is, I'll make the most of it--and afterwards,  I remember--and be grateful. All this, I owe to that long time spent on the sidelines of life." Which word can best describe the author's feeling after visiting the doctor?
Hopeless. Curious. Confused. Energetic.
Question: Just 10 years ago, I sat across the desk from a doctor. "Yes," he said, "there is something wrong with the left, upper lobe . You have a moderately advanced case... You'll have to give up work at once and go to bed. Later on, we'll see." Feeling like a man who is in midcareer has suddenly been placed under sentence of death, I left the doctor's office, walked over to the park, and sat down on a bench. I needed to think. In the next 3 days, I cleared up my affairs, then I went home, got into bed, and set my watch to tick off not the minutes, but the months. Two years later, I left my bed and began the long climb back. It was another year before I made it. I speak of this experience because _ that passed so slowly taught me what to value and what to believe. I realise now that this world I'm living in is not my oyster  to be opened but my opportunity to be grasped. Each day, to me, is a precious thing. The sun comes up and presents me with 24 brandnew, wonderful hours--not to pass, but to fill. I've learned to appreciate those little, allimportant things I never thought I had the time to notice before:the play of light on running water, the music of the wind in my favourite pine tree. I seem now to see and hear and feel with some of the recovered freshness of childhood. How well, for instance, I recall the touch of the springy earth under my feet the day I first stepped upon it after the years in bed. Frequently, I sit back and say to myself, "Let me make note of this moment I'm living right now, because in it I'm well, happy and hard at work doing what I like best to do. It won't always be like this, so while it is, I'll make the most of it--and afterwards,  I remember--and be grateful. All this, I owe to that long time spent on the sidelines of life." Which word can best describe the author's feeling after visiting the doctor?
A. Hopeless.
B. Curious.
C. Confused.
D. Energetic.
Answer: