The
technician handed me the chart of an emergency patient that just walked in. “He
was hit with a tree branch.”
Before my
eyes flashed the words I knew I would be using:
Árbol
Le duele
Le golpeó
¿cuándo le
pasó?
But then I
thought to myself, how do you say ‘branch’?
Not knowing the word for ‘branch’ in Spanish would not prevent me from
talking to the patient, getting the history, examining him and diagnosing him,
but I realized that I never knew the word and wanted to find out how to say it
in Spanish.
After I
took his chart, I quickly asked a secretary at the front desk, “I know ‘árbol’
is tree in Spanish, but how do you say ‘branch’? She thought for a second or two, then
answered, “Just say ‘palo’, he’ll know what you mean.”
So I called
the patient in:
Me: Señor,
la enfermera me dijo lo que pasó—¿le golpeó un palo del árbol?
Patient:
Sí.
Me: ¿Cuándo
le pasó?
Patient: Esta
mañana. Me duele el ojo aquí (pointing to corner of eye)
Me: ¿Trató
Ud. usar lágrimas artificiales u otro medicamento?
Patient:
No.
Me: OK. Voy
a poner anestesia dentro del ojo...vamos a ver...
And so the
exam ensued. It made me smile when the patient understood the word ‘palo’. I find it amazing that in language learning, a word which to me means nothing more
than letters on a page or a sound when spoken, has a familiar and known meaning
to another.
Incidentally,
I looked up ‘branch’ after the visit. It’s
‘rama’.
In this next
encounter, neither the patient nor myself knew the correct word, but we deduced
the meaning based on symptoms and description alone--
Me: ¿Cómo
está Ud.?
Patient:
Bien, gracias.
Me: Siéntese
allí, por favor. ¿Tiene algunos
problemas quiere decirme?
Patient: No puedo leer bien con mis lentes. Tengo que
esforzar cuando quiero leer letras pequeñas.
Me: Vamos a
ver....
(some
minutes later)
Me:
Bueno, tiene ojos sanos. No tiene
glaucoma, una enfermedad del nervio óptico. No tiene problemas macular, y las
arterias son sanas. Pero recuerda Ud, la
última visita estábamos hablando de sus cataratas en cada ojo. Ahora un año más
tarde, son más densas. Debemos cambiar sus lentes.
Patient:
Está bien, pero, una pregunta más, Doctora. Tengo, no sé qué es, en el músculo,
algo aquí en el parpado del ojo (pointing to the upper lid of her left eye). Un movimiento...
(She didn’t
know the word for it, and I didn’t know how to say it in Spanish, but I knew
based on her description and where she was pointing what she was talking
about).
Me: Oh, es
como, en íngles se llama un “twitch”.
Patient: ¡Sí!
¿Qué es?
Me: Bueno,
tiene razón, hay un músculo ahí, alrededor el ojo, y como los otros músculos en
el cuerpo, pueden tener espasmos.
Cuando se siente este “twitch”—el movimiento—entonces, debes frotarlo.
En tiempo, la sensación desaparece.
Patient:
Bueno. Gracias.
English:
twitch = Español: tic
The bottom line is, in language learning, your vocabulary will never expand unless you make it expand. And, in order to learn, you must lower your pride and ASK QUESTIONS! When I come across a word or phrase I don't know in Spanish, I always try to ask my technicians for their input. They bring to the office a rich knowledge of Cuban, Puerto Rican and Mexican vocabulary and dialect. I even ask the patient and his/her family (see The Spanish Teacher). This dynamic learning helps me better remember new words as I come across them. When you don't know, you must ask! What better way to grow in a language and enrich your patient experiences!
