Friday, July 18, 2014

A Thousand Words is Worth a Thousand Words




Blefaritis

1-Tenga que limpiar los párpados cada mañana y noche con una toalla tibia.

2-Tome 1,000mg de Omega-3 (dos píldoras con la comida).

3-Ponga dos gotas de lágrimas artificiales en cada ojo dos veces al día.

One of the topics that I repeat ad infinitum in this blog is that, no matter the language or the culture, people are people.  We are all subject to the same concerns, fears, questions, hopes. We all have the same goals as patients—we want to stay healthy, be well and are willing to do what we must to keep things that way.  Ophthalmology patients want the best for their most important sense: they want to see the sharpest, maintain their vision, and continue with their daily routines sans eye irritation or discomfort. They of course have concerns, having an understanding of what conditions like ‘macular degeneration’and ‘retinal detachment’are-- they want to make sure such vision-threatening diseases are preventable or at the very least, caught early and treated.

It’s alot to think about, and as a patient in a doctor’s office (a place where many people have a low-lying level of nervousness to begin with), sometimes it is difficult for the patient to A) remember all the questions he want to ask his doctor and B) listen to and remember all the doctor is telling him regarding his diagnosis and instructions for treatment. And this is assuming that the doctor is explaining things in plain language.  If technical medical jargon is being used, then this adds an extra element of confusion to the mix for patients.

I have found time and again since my third-year medical school clerkship days, that even when I explain in my native English a patient’s diagnosis and treatment to a native English-speaking patient, many times in the end my patient will still have difficulty remembering everything I’ve said, let alone the steps to take to treat the condition. I make every effort to use plain language and not medical terminology. I take as much time as necessary to explain everything and answer all questions to my ability. Yet, when I ask the patient to repeat back to me what her understanding of her eye condition is and how I want her to proceed with the treatment regimen, many times she can’t do it! She nods her head in understanding, but in the end she still does not fully remember everything I’ve said. As I mentioned earlier in this post, most of this has to do with a certain level of anxiety the patient may be experiencing, in addition to having to take in a large amount of new information which, honestly, takes time to digest.

Think about it—if this happens, and it does frequently happen, in my native English language, imagine how much more convoluted and confusing the story gets when I am attempting to explain the same diagnosis in my secondary language of Spanish! Sure I have a professional fluency, but it is not native level, and the native Spanish-speaking patient is therefore subject to my personal interpretation, my accent, and my linguistic angle of his language. –Eso es decir, hablo el idioma bien, pero no soy un hablante nativo de Español, y estoy segura que hay veces cuando mis frases suenan extrañas. –>Maybe even this sentence!  When speaking or listening in a non-native language, there will always exist misinterpretations or confusing elements. Add to this scenario the usual time crunch in a busy clinical setting, and we have the perfect storm which can result in a patient leaving the office frustrated and not fully understanding his/her diagnosis and what to do about it.

To make life a little easier and clearer, what I like to do is have written material available in Spanish which I can give to the patient at the end of his visit.  This serves as a take-home reminder of what we discussed in the office. The American Academy of Ophthalmology is one of several sources that offers  brochures on their website which thoroughly cover a variety of eye diseases in Spanish (see below for link).  However, I find that sometimes, such information is a little bit too lengthy.  Even written information, when given in too large a quantity, becomes a giant ocean where the main points are lost.

During my residency, when the time crunch really really mattered, I became master of writing out instructions on small pieces of paper or index cards of the most common eye maladies I treated: dry eye, blepharitis, corneal abrasion, bacterial keratitis, open-angle glaucoma, metallic corneal foreign body removal, the list goes on and on. I would photocopy them and hand them out at every opportunity.  I did this in both Spanish and English, and I opened this particular blog entry with an example of my “Blefaritis” treatment information card.  A little extra work to prepare these went a long way in driving home understanding of the disease and/or treatment. It meant the difference between seeing a patient at follow-up who was fully recovered versus the patient who was still suffering because he/she couldn’t remember how many times a day to use the drops.

Of course, some patients returned the next visit having lost my cards, but I would hand them another copy and we’d start all over again!  In the end, it’s about doing all you can to make sure there is an understanding between doctor and patient, regardless of the language in which you communicate.

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American Academy of Ophthalmology Patient Education Brochure link:

The Adirondacks, NY 



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