Translation: Language article I, part 3

This represents the completed translation of the article, "Sobre 'pilota', portavoza', 'miembra' y otros femeninos," by Salvador Gutiérrez Órdoñez:

Más cercano tenemos el caso del arbitraje. En la dirección de los partidos de fútbol y de otros deportes, en un principio solo teníamos la forma árbitro. Cuando acceden las mujeres a esta profesión, al principio la norma de los hablantes (guiada por la costumbre) rechaza el femenino árbitra, que es perfecta según el sistema de la lengua. Se acudía la forma común: el árbitro y la árbitro. Pero pasó el tiempo, y hoy hemos incorporado el femenino árbitra con toda normalidad.

More recently we have a case of contention. In the realm of soccer teams and other sports, in the beginning we only had the form árbitro (referee). When women entered this profession, at the beginning the general rule of the speakers (guided by custom) rejected the feminine word árbitra (female referee), which is perfect according to the language system.  They went along with the common form: el árbitro and la árbitro (the male referee and the female referee, respectively). But time went by, and today we have incorporated the feminine árbitra (female referee) into regular use.

En ocasiones, posibles femeninos, formados siguiendo las normas de la lengua, encuentran restricciones a causa de prejuicios sociales o corporativos. Los femeninos jueza y fiscala, bien construidos, sufrieron (y a veces sufren) rechazo normativo, hecho que ya no ocurría con abogada, catedrática ni magistrada. Otro caso de rechazo corporativo de femeninos perfectamente formados es el de los grados militares: sargenta, tenienta, caba, soldada...

On occasions, feminine forms continue to become part of the norm of the language, we find restrictions as a result of social or business/corporate prejudices. The feminine forms jueza (female judge) and fiscala (female prosecutor), though well constructed, suffered (and at times suffer) rejection from the code of rules, a fact that has not yet occurred with abogada (female attorney), catedrática (female professor), or magistrada (female judge). Another case of corporate/business rejections of perfectly constructed feminine word forms is that of military ranks: sargenta (female sergeant), tenienta (female lieutenant), caba (female corporal), soldada (female soldier)...

Un resumen de lo hasta aquí expuesto, sería aconsejar que, cuando se presente un problema en la formación de un femenino de profesión, lo mejor es atenerse al sistema, ya que la norma "è mobile". Abundemos ahora en un caso reciente: el femenino de piloto. Dado el escaso número de mujeres que intervenía en competiciones automovilísticas o en la dirección de vuelo, la palabra piloto no había desarrollado la forma femenina que le permite el sistema de la lengua. Era un término común en cuanto al género: el piloto y la piloto. Cuando aparece el femenino la pilota y las pilotas surgen el escándalo o la inquietud. Existen dos tipos de preguntas: una se dirige a la norma ("¿Es correcto decir la pilota?"); la otra se dirige al sistema de la lengua ("¿Está bien formado el femenino la pilota?"). A la primera se responde: en la norma actual, el uso sancionado como correcto por la mayoría hablantes es el piloto-la piloto.

In summary of what has been talked about here, it would be good advice that, when one is presented with the problem of creating the feminine form of a profession, it is best to abide by the system, and the system is always changing. We surround ourselves now with a recent case: the feminine of piloto (male pilot). Given the scarce number of women that enter into the automotive industry or the arena of flight, the word piloto (male pilot) had never developed a feminine form permitted by the language system. It was a common ending applied to both genders: el piloto (male pilot) and la piloto (female pilot). When the feminine form of the word, la pilota (female pilot) and las pilotas (female pilots) appeared, it was considered scandalous and created upset. There are two types of questions: one is directed toward the social rules (Is it correct to say la pilota [female pilot]?); the other is directed toward the language system (Is the feminine form of la pilota [female pilot] correctly formed?). One responds to the first question in this way: according to the current social sentiment, the use that has been sanctioned as correct by the majority of speakers is el piloto (male pilot)-la pilota (female pilot).

Sin embargo, la respuesta adecuada a la segunda pregunta es que el femenino la pilota está bien formado según el sistema de la lengua. Así se han creado múltiples femeninos de profesiones que, en un principio, pudieron resultar extraños, pero que hoy nos son familiares: bombera, bedela... Y, aunque algunos oídos rechinen, ya se está asistiendo al uso de obispa, ujiera... también formados correctamente según el sistema de la lengua.

However, an adequate answer to the second question is that the feminine la pilota (female pilot) is well formed according to the language system. In this way, multiple feminine forms of the various professions have been created that, in the beginning, seemed strange, but today are very familiar: bombera (female firefighter), bedela (female custodian)...And, although some may grate on the ears, words like obispa (female bishop) and ujiera (female usher) are being accepted into use, also correctly formed according to the language system.

Vayamos ahora con la segunda parte: ¿Y no existen restricciones en la aplicación de esta regla de formación en los femeninos de profesiones? Sí existen, pero no son absolutas.

We now move on to the second part: Are there any restrictions when applying the rules of word creation related to female professionals? Yes, they exist, but they are not absolute.

Veamos, en primer lugar, el femenino miembra. ¿Está bien formado según el sistema? La respuesta es positiva. ¿Está aceptado por el juicio normativo de los hablantes? La respuesta es "aún no". La causa del rechazo proviene de las connotaciones. Resulta que los femeninos de sustantivos que designan individualidades suelen venir cargados de asociaciones negativas: así ocurre con tipa, individua, elementa, fulana, prójima, e incluso socia. Sería difícil que miembra se librara de una connotación peyorativa.

First let’s look at the feminine miembra (female member). Is it well formed according to the system? The answer is positive. Is it accepted by the social norms of the speakers? The answer is, still no.  The reason for this rejection comes from the word’s connotations. This results when feminine nouns that designate individuals begin to carry negative associations: this happens with tipa (female type), individua (female individual), elementa (female element), fulana (female whore), prójima (female neighbor), and also includes socia (female business partner). It would be difficult for miembra (female member) to free itself from this pejorative connotation.

Por las redes ha circulado estos días una crítica mordaz a los ignorantos e ignorantas que forman femeninos de antiguos participios de presente: no decimos cantanta, escribienta, atacanta, etc. Esta es, efectivamente, una de las restricciones originarias en la formación de femeninos en -a, pero no una restricción absoluta. En el inicio de la lengua se decía la infante, la parturiente, la sirviente; pero hoy se han generalizado la infanta, la parturienta, la sirvienta, la presidenta, la gobernanta, la clienta, la intendenta, la gerenta... Que no se digan aún cantanta, estudianta, videnta... es cuestión de norma, es decir, de aceptación de los hablantes (hecho mudable), no prohibición del sistema.

For some days, a scathing critique spread through social media regarding the ignorantos (male ignoramus) and ignorantas (female ignoramus) that create feminine forms from the past participle of the present tense: we don’t say cantanta (female singer), escribienta (female writer), atacanta (female assailant), etc. This is, effectively, one of the original restrictions in the creation of feminine word forms using –a, but not an absolute restriction. In the beginning of the language, one said la infante (the female infant), la parturiente (the female in labor), la sirvienta (the female servant), la presidenta (the female president), la gobernanta (the female ruler), la clienta (the female client), la intendenta (the female mayor), la gerenta (the female manager)... that they don’t even say cantanta (female singer), estudianta (female student), videnta (female fortune teller)...is a question of social norms, that is to say, of acceptance by native speakers (made changeable), not something prohibited by the system.

Algunas terminaciones de sustantivos presentan alguna resistencia a la creación de femeninos en -a, pero, como en los casos anteriores, la resistencia no es absoluta. No se usa cancillera, crupiera, sumillera, pero tenemos normalizado bachillera. Junto a lo extraño de alféreza, hallamos jueza y aprendiza.

Some noun endings present particular resistance to the creation of a feminine form of the word in –a, but, just like in the previous cases, this resistance is not an absolute. One does not use cancillera (female chancellor), crupiera (female croupier/dealer), sumillera (female wine steward/professional), but we have normalized bachillera (female baccalaureate). Similarly, there is the odd-sounding alféreza (female ensign), yet we find jueza (female judge) and aprendiza (female trainee).

En cambio, sí parece representar una ruptura del sistema el femenino portavoza, al menos mientras se mantenga la conciencia de que se trata de una palabra compuesta, formada por la unión de porta y de voz (que ya es femenina y no designa persona). Pero tampoco en este caso quiero sentar cátedra. La lengua es caprichosa. En la calle he oído más de una vez el femenino guardiacivila.

On the other hand, it appears the rules of the language system are broken with portavoza (female spokesperson), at least when one keeps in mind that this is a compound word, formed from the union of porta (holder/port) and voz (voice) (both of which are already feminine nouns that do not designate a person). But, I do not want to lecture even in this case.  Language is capricious. In the street, I have heard more than one time the feminine guardiacivila (Spanish military policewoman).

Salvador Gutiérrez Órdoñez es catedrático de Lingüística, miembro de la RAE y consejero de Fundéu

Salvador Gutiérrez Órdoñez is a professor of linguistics, member of the RAE, and advisor of Fundéu.

Courtesy Morningside Translations

References

Gutiérrez, Salvador Ó. (2018 February 10).  Sobre 'pilota', 'portavoza', 'miembra' y otros femeninos. El Mundo. Retrieved from: www.elmundo.es/espana/2018/02/10/5a7df963ca474179478b4698.html

(2014 September 16). Humorous translation and localization errors. Morningside Translations. Retrieved from: https://www.morningtrans.com/humorous-translation-localization-errors-2/

Translation: Language article I, part 2

This entry marks my continued translation from Spanish to English of the online article, "Sobre 'pilota', 'portavoza', 'miembra' y otros femeninos." by Salvador Gutiérrez, published in El Mundo February 10, 2018. I began the translation some months back and started to share it with you, then came a hiatus from blogging. I disappeared! Actually, my medical writing and editing have been keeping me very busy, and busy is good! But I want to be more diligent about making time for these entries, which for me, keep the Spanish-English linguistic muscle alive and flexing! 

Before continuing with the article, I'm going to side-step for a moment and mention something which initially here will seem out of place. A while back I had seen a movie called Sideways. If you've never seen it, please do! It's a wonderful film about wine, life, struggle, friendship, love, truth, deception, and self-discovery. If you have seen it, then you know what a great movie it is without further explanation. Well, at one point, one of the characters in the film refers to a bottle of wine as being alive. That if it was opened on one day, it would taste different than if it was opened on any other day. I mention this here because, in many ways, I'm finding the process of translation to be very much the same. Translation is a living process. How I express what is written on the page in Spanish one day changes if I put the writing down and return to it at another time. How does it change? Well, I can't alter the meaning the original author intended, but the way I express that meaning varies as I vary. It's fluid, as I'm fluid. It changes with me. I prepared the following paragraphs 3 months ago, but I read them again today and made changes, because I'm not looking at it through the same eyes--from even as little a time as 3 months back. I leave you with this quote from Heraclitus, which best sums up this experience better than I can express it:

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."

*

Con la norma hemos dado, amigo Sancho. En estas situaciones, recuerdo las palabras de Emilio Alarcos en el "Prólogo" a su Gramática de la lengua española: "Conviene así que el normativismo se forre de escéptica cautela". Incluía esta afirmación después de hacer referencia al Appendix Probi, un texto normativo del siglo IV en el que se condenaban la forma de pronunciar y de escribir más de 250 palabras en el latín hablado porque se apartaban de la norma del latín clásico: "mensa non mesa", "tabula non tabla", corregía. El éxito de tales anatemas fue nulo: casi la totalidad de las formas repudiadas triunfaron en las lenguas romances. El resultado del análisis coincide siempre con la tesis de Horacio en el Arte poética: la palabras perecen o reviven "si el uso lo quiere" ("si uolet usus"). El pueblo es el dueño del idioma.

With the norm we have given, friend Sancho. In these situations, I remember the words of Emilio Alarcos in the “Prologue” to his Spanish Language Grammar: “It helps that normativism is lined with skeptical caution.” It included this affirmation after making reference to the Probi Appendix, a text of rules from the 4^th century in which condemned the manner of pronouncing and writing more than 250 words in spoken Latin because they were separated from the classical Latin rules: “mensa non mesa”, “tabula non tabla”, they corrected. The success of such exclusions amounted to nothing: almost the entire number of rejected words found their place in the romance languages.  The result of this analysis always coincides with the thesis of Horacio in Poetic Art:the words appear or relive “if their use is warranted” (“si uolet usus”). The people are the keepers of the language.

En las discusiones sobre la corrección de una forma o de una expresión lingüística conviene diferenciar dos conceptos: el sistema y la norma. El sistema es el marco formal que establece las posibilidades de variación o de combinación que permite la lengua. Muchas de esas posibilidades no están aplicadas o explotadas por el uso, a causa de diferentes razones. La norma recoge lo que en un momento dado los hablantes consideran correcto. El sistema es estable, cambia con extrema dificultad. Sin embargo, la norma es variable, tornadiza. Depende de la valoración del pueblo.

In discussions regarding the correction of a word form or a linguistic expression, it helps to differentiate between two concepts: the system and the rule. The system is the formal mark that establishes the possibilities of variation or combination that the language permits. Many of those possibilities are not applied or fully explored in through regular use, due to various reasons. What is considered “the rules” at the moment is what speakers consider correct. The system is stable, and changes only with extreme difficulty. However, the rules are variable, like a tornado’s path. They depend on the acceptance of the people.

Pongamos algunos ejemplos. El sistema de la lengua nos dice que el femenino de sustantivos de profesiones se forma morfológicamente añadiendo la desinencia -a al masculino. Sin embargo, por diversas razones (muchas veces relacionadas con la realidad social), esa posibilidad del sistema no siempre se realiza. En las Cortes de Cádiz el término diputado era masculino y solo designaba a varones, pues la mujer no podía ser elegida parlamentaria. Cuando alcanza este derecho, el término diputada, perfecta según el sistema de la lengua, chocaba con la costumbre, con la norma, por lo que se prefirió durante algún tiempo diferenciar el sexo solo a través del artículo (el diputado/la diputado). Más tarde, el uso generalizará la forma femenina y hoy decimos con toda naturalidad diputada.

We’ll give a few examples. The language system tells us that the feminine of professional nouns is formed morphologically by adding the ending “-a” to the masculine. However, for various reasons (many times related to the social climate), that suggestion of the language system is not always accomplished.  In “Las Cortes de Cádiz”, the term “diputado” was masculine and only meant for men, because a woman couldn’t be elected to parliament. When this right was achieved, the term “diputada”, perfect according to the language system, clashed with custom,  with the accepted norm, which preferred during that time to differentiate between the sexes through a change in the article (el diputado/ la diputado). Later, with use, the feminine form would become more common and today we say completely naturally “diputada”.

Reference

Gutiérrez, Salvador Ó. (2018 February 10).  Sobre 'pilota', 'portavoza', 'miembra' y otros femeninos. El Mundo. Retrieved from: www.elmundo.es/espana/2018/02/10/5a7df963ca474179478b4698.html

Translation: Language article I

“Translation is like a woman. If it is beautiful, it is not faithful. If it is faithful, it is most certainly not beautiful.” – Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Some might read the above quote and think it’s out of line. Sexist. Inappropriate. And maybe it’s all of those things, but I also think that it’s pretty funny. It gave me a chuckle, particularly the part about a translation being too faithful to the text of origin – the end result is usually quite cumbersome and repulsive. I’m thinking specifically about a practice test I recently took for the American Translators Association (ATA). The ATA offers exams in an unlimited number of languages, to and from one language or another. If you pass the test, you are certified by the ATA in that language group. And it’s desirable to have this certification, because it means you have achieved a certain level of adeptness in translating between the two languages. But passing, here, is the operative term, indeed. I must say, having just handed in my practice exam, I did not imagine that it would be so difficult.

My language pair of interest is, as it should be painfully obvious to anyone who’s read my blog, Spanish into English. I’m a native English speaker. I studied Spanish in grade school, high school, college, graduate school and I’ve taken courses in translation. I thought, how hard can this be? But there is so much to think about when translating. You want to preserve the meaning of the source language. In order to do that, sometimes you have to greatly alter the way the material is expressed in the target language. If you do this, you have to work hoping you don’t obscure or change the original meaning. You have one and a half hours to translate two small paragraphs—at least this is what I had to do during the practice exam. But the level of second-guessing myself and back-tracking was incredible! I am entirely expecting that my end result, once graded, will not be good. However, I’m using this as a learning experience, hopefully from which to glean some know-how before taking the test for real.

In an effort to improve translation skills and increase Spanish non-medical vocabulary, I have decided to start taking articles of interest from the internet and translate them in sections in my blog. My method of translation is to initially write what I know. Then I look up words and/or phrases that are unfamiliar or potentially confusing in the Spanish-English dictionaries, both online and in text, and look for parallel text examples either via Google searches or a very helpful site I found called “Linguee.es”. I follow the newspaper, El Mundo, on social media sites, and recently they posted an article regarding the on-going battle to feminize some traditionally masculine words in the Spanish language. I love reading pieces like this, where feminism takes the fight to the linguistic level.

In English, words are not masculine or feminine unless they are structured that way, ie, the mailman, the waitress.  But these can easily be changed to be neutral, by changing the word altogether or having the formerly masculine word be used to denote both men and women, ie, mailperson, mail carrier,  waiter (m & w), waitperson. This article addresses similar terms in Spanish, one of them being:  portavoz  which means spokesman. The argument is, women can be spokespeople too, so make the word feminine: portavoza. 

I will translate the article to go into more detail, but I am just thinking now, if I had to translate an article that contained the word portavoz, I would likely translate it as spokesperson in keeping with the trend of neutrality in language today. In this way, to the reader, the spokesperson can be either man or woman. But if I was translating an article that said portavoza, I would have no choice but to translate it spokeswoman. I’m just thinking, maybe in the end, this isn’t liberating at all – only just as restricting? Maybe it’s not about changing the word, but changing how we think about the word? Well, let’s find out what the author Salvador Gutiérrez Órdoñez has to say in the article and reconvene after the translation of all the sections is completed.

Sobre 'Pilota', 'Portavoza', 'Miembra' y Otros Femeninos

 Salvador Gutiérrez Órdoñez

De vez en cuando los políticos sacuden la conciencia normativa de los ciudadanos con la propuesta de femeninos rupturistas. Así ocurrió con jóvenas, miembra y, estos últimos días, con el uso de portavoza. En tales casos, se producen debates intensos, incluso encarnizados, que, con independencia del costado al que se incline la razón, denotan una saludable preocupación por la salud y pureza de la lengua. Todos hemos interiorizado en los años de formación, primero, y, luego, a lo largo de toda la vida, una preocupación por las normas de la corrección (el recte loquendi del que hablaban dos gramáticos hispánicos de relieve universal: Quintiliano y Nebrija). Es normal asimismo que, en el fragor de la discusión, los ciudadanos airados giren la mirada hacia los gramáticos y hacia los académicos pidiendo una condena inquisitorial ("crucifícalo, crucifícalo"). Las personas menos airadas, pero sorprendidas, solicitan una aclaración: "¿Está bien dicho?".

Every once in a while, politicians shake the normative conscience of its citizens with the proposal of breakthrough feminine (words) . As it’s happened with youths, member, and in recent days, with the use of spokeswoman. In such cases, there are intense debates, rather brutal ones, which, regardless of the side to which reason is inclined, they denote a healthy concern for the health and purity of the language. We have all interiorized during the formative years, first, and later, for as long as a lifetime, a concern about the corrective rules (the recte loquendi spoken about by two Hispanic grammarians of universal importance: Quintiliano and Nebrija). It is normal, likewise, in the heat of the discussion,  angry citizens turn their gaze toward the grammarians and to the academicians asking for an investigative condemnation (“crucify him, crucify him”). The less angry, but surprised, people ask for clarification: “Is it being said correctly?”

Reference

Goonjur, Medhav K. (2017 September 6). Funny translation from Chinese to English. MTA Network the Sign of Success. Retrieved from: mtanetwork.net/funny-translation-chinese-english/

Gutiérrez, Salvador Ó. (2018 February 10).  Sobre 'pilota', 'portavoza', 'miembra' y otros femeninos. El Mundo. Retrieved from: www.elmundo.es/espana/2018/02/10/5a7df963ca474179478b4698.html

 

Courtesy: MTA Network, Goonjur MK

Despedirse

(Aviso legal: los siguientes párrafos representan mi opinión y se escriben en mi español – el español de una hablante nativa de inglés, quien trata todos los días a aprender un poco más de español que lo que ella conocío el día anterior.)

Doctora: (después de acabar el examen) Me complace ver que el medicamento funcione para usted. Debe regresar en seis meses para otra revisión de los ojos.

Paciente: Sí, gracias, los colirios me hicieron sentir mejor de los ojos. Los ojos no me queman o pican no más.

D: Está bien. Pero una cosa, cuando regresa para la cita en seis meses, desafortunadamente, no estaré en esta oficina.

P: ¿No trabajará aquí? ¿Qué, se muda?

D: No sé todavía. Quiero pasar el tiempo afuera del ámbito médico para un rato.

P: Me hace decepcionada oír estas noticias. Usted era la sola médica que me ayudaba  con la sequedad de los ojos. Y porque tengo confianza en usted, llevé a mí mamá para verla también. Tenía yo muchos otros doctores en el pasado, pero ellos no estaban dispuestos a dedicarles el tiempo necesario para ayudarme y a mí mamá.

D: Estoy agradecida oír sus palabras simpáticas. No sé, tal vez un día, regresaré al mundo de medicina, pero por ahora, tengo que utilizar el tiempo para explorar otras oportunidades. No sé lo que traiga el futuro. Dile a su mamá un saludo de mí. Les deseo a ustedes todo el mejor, especialmente la salud buena – para el cuerpo, incluir los ojos – y la mente.

P: Gracias, (mientras irse), le diré a ella. Buena suerte.

                                                                        *

Algunos meses atrás, bueno, en realidad algunos años atrás, hice la decisión irme del ámbito médico. Bueno, no de la especialización de medicina completamente, solo medicina clínica. Por diez años después de la residencia médica (y la residencia duró tres años), yo trabajaba siempre para otros médicos – para sus practicas, según sus reglas. Aunque yo tenía el control de los casos de mis pacientes, no podía hacer muchos de mis decisiones propias en su cuidado. Yo debía someterme al gobierno, a los seguros médicos y a los jefes de la oficina. Normalmente, por ejemplo, un examen completo de los ojos – particularmente uno donde se han dilatado las pupilas – requiere a menos veinte minutos para realizar.  Pero, las clínicas médicas donde yo trabajaba me obligaron realizar un examen completo en no más que cinco a siete minutos. ¿Por qué? Un examen más corto significa hay espacio en el horario para más pacientes. Para mí, y para la mayoría de los médicos, eso no es bastante tiempo para pasar con el paciente: para oírle, para escucharle, para examinarle, para explicarle lo que tiene, para asegurarle. Los días de la relación tradicional (donde el médico, y no el gobierno, o el director de la oficina, o la compañía de seguros médicos, hizo las decisiones para el paciente) entre del médico y del paciente se acaban.

Ahora, hay un éxodo de médicos de la especialidad de medicina en los EEUU. Y, si el médico no puede funcionar en una manera independiente, para tener el control total sobre las decisiones de la salud de una persona, para ordenar las pruebas necesarias para diagnosticar correctamente, para recetar los medicamentos que son vitales para la supervivencia, entonces ella está obligada dejar de ser médico. Si no, ella continua funcionar como marioneta del sistema.

Yo continuo a dedicarme al aprendizaje, a la palabra escrita, a la edición de informes y artículos eruditos de médicos y científicos destinados para publicación en los diarios académicos. En esta manera, puedo continuar con la cultivación de conocimientos médicos en la forma más pura – sin obstrucciones de “la autoridad” y según mis principios y mi horario en mi propio tiempo.

Y, un día, si hay una revolución (y sí, es completamente posible con el sistema en su estado actual) y la practica de medicina vuelve al método original, tal vez volveré al mundo de medicine. Pero por ahora, no. Solo el futuro nos dirá lo que va a pasar.

                                                                        *

(Disclaimer: the following paragraphs represent my opinion and are written in my Spanish – the Spanish of a native English-speaker, who tries every day to learn a little more Spanish than she knew the day before.)

Doctor: (after finishing the exam) I’m happy to see that this medication is working for you. You should return in six months for another eye checkup.

Patient: Yes, thank you. The drops have made my eyes feel better. My eyes don’t burn or sting anymore.

D: Fine. But one thing, when you return in six months for your appointment, unfortunately I will not be in this office.

P: You won’t be working here? What, are you moving?

D: I don’t know yet. I want to spend some time outside the medical arena for a while.

P: I’m disappointed to hear this news. You were the only doctor that helped me with my dry eyes. And because I have faith in you, I brought my mother in to see you also. I’ve  had many other doctors in the past, but they weren’t able to dedicate the time necessary to help me or my mother.

D: I am grateful to hear your kind words. I don’t know, perhaps one day I will return to medical, but for now, I have to use this time to explore other opportunities. I don’t know what the future will bring. Say hello to your mother for me. I wish you both all the best, especially good health – for the body, including the eyes – and the mind.

P: Thank you, (while leaving), I will tell her. Good luck.

                                                                        *

Some months ago, well, truthfully some years ago, I made the decision to leave the medical field. Well, not completely from the specialty of medicine, only clinical practice.  For ten years after my medical residency (and the residency lasted three years), I always worked for other doctors – for their practices, according to their rules.  Although I had control over my patient cases, I couldn’t make many of my own decisions in their care. Normally, for example, a complete eye exam, particularly one that involves pupil dilation, requires at least twenty minutes to perform. But the practices where I worked forced me to do a complete exam in no more than five to seven minutes. Why? A shorter exam means there is room in the schedule for more patients. For me, and for the majority of doctors, that isn’t enough time to spend with the patient: to hear him, to listen to him, to examine him, to explain to him what he has and to reassure him. The days of the traditional relationship (where the doctor, and not the government, or the office manager or the medical insurance company, made the decisions for the patient) between a doctor and her patient are over.

Now, there is an exodus of physicians from the medical field in the United States. And, if the doctor cannot function in an independent manner, to have total control over decisions regarding the health of a person, to order the tests necessary to correctly diagnose, to write prescriptions for the medications that are vital to the person’s survival, then she is forced to cease being a physician. If not, she continues to function as a marionette of the system.

I continue to dedicate myself to learning, to the written word, to the editing of reports and scholarly articles by physicians and scientists meant for publication in academic journals. In this way, I can continue to cultivate medical knowledge in its purest form – without obstacles of the “authorities” and according to my principles and my schedule in my own time.

One day, if there is a revolution (and yes, it is completely possible with the system in its current state) and the practice of medicine returns to its original methods, perhaps I will return to the medical arena. But for now, no. Only time will tell what is going to happen.

NYC mural by Ashli Sisk