Saturday, April 11, 2015

My Chief Complaint: When Communication is One-Sided



Me: “Hola, Soy Dra. Hromin, vamos a empezar el examen.”

Patient: “ Hi. How are you? I’m fine.” (spoken with little to no accent)

Me. “You can have a seat right there. So, I see you’re here today for a general eye exam and follow up from the last visit. Do you have any particular concerns you’d like to tell me about?”

Patient: (looking confused) “Sorry, not much English”.

Me: “Oh, está bien – puedo hablar en español – Usted habló inglés tanto bien antés, pensé que Usted querría conducir el examen en inglés. Pero está bien, ¡sólo tiene que decirme!”

Patient: (looking serious and somewhat angry) “Bueno estoy aquí por lentes nuevos.”

For anyone who’s been reading my blog and following my blog, you know that the purpose of my entries is primarily to educate and to share. You know that I’m a practicing ophthalmologist who grew up speaking only English in my family’s household. You already know it wasn’t until I started the 7th grade that I was given an introduction to basic Spanish in school and that over the years as I grew, my Spanish grew with me. I took Spanish learning to every level of my education, high school, college, medical school. I’ve documented for you that just as conversation English and English medical terminology are two very different elements, so too are medical and conversational Spanish. You know that I want to help other physicians who learned Spanish secondarily to use it proficiently in their communications with Spanish speaking patients. My opinion of language learning is that it is fun—though it requires work and dedication – at the core it is fun, cool even!, to be able to converse with someone who you otherwise wouldn’t be able to if you didn’t speak their language.

There is on-going controversy here in the U.S. regarding whether it should be a requirement of doctors to learn Spanish to communicate with their patients. My feeling is that, though it shouldn’t be a requirement, doctors should attempt to communicate (or find services that can) in their patient’s language while patients too should take responsibility for their U.S. health care and attempt to learn some English. 

Over my last 10 years of ophthalmology practice, my overall experience with my Spanish speaking patients is that they have been nothing but grateful at my communication skills with them. There is relief, gratitude, happiness and a true sharing and learning that has taken place between doctor and patient. However, every now and again during that time period, I do come across a patient who is not grateful and friendly, but rather has a very arrogant attitude about Spanish language use in this country. Fortunately, I have had so few of these encounters I can count them on one hand, but negative experiences stand out most in our minds, unfortunately. And though these experiences were so few, they will not be forgotten.

The earlier conversation in this entry documents one of these interactions. I return to it now:

Me: “Se dice aquí que la última vez, cuando estaba aquí, el oftalmólogo empezó un tratamiento nuevo para Usted. ¿Por qué no lo ha continuado?

Patient: (somewhat heated) “El otro medico no me dijo lo que tenía yo, o que tuve que continuar con el tratamiento.”

Me: “Ok, está bien, bueno, voy a examinar sus ojos hoy, y despues podemos discutir lo que tiene que hacer.”

After the exam, having explained the patient’s diagnosis and treatment, I turned to the computer to print out his new eyeglass prescription:

Me: “Déme un momentito a escribir su receta por lentes-“

Patient: (talking to me, as I’m typing out his prescription) “Es bueno que habla español,--debe hablar español. Hay veintiseis milliones de personas quien habla español en este país. Usted debe tener la abilidad hablar con ellos.Yo vine aquí demasiado viejo a aprender inglés. No puedo aprenderlo. Mis hijas, aunque, son bilingues.”

Me: “Oh.” 

There were so many things I felt like saying, but I realized any retort would be provocation for an argument and to be honest, I wanted to finish up my prescription and get the patient on his way. His presence and words made me uncomfortable.

For the first time ever, at that moment I regretted knowing Spanish. If I didn’t know it, then I wouldn’t have understood his arrogant remarks. He felt that I “should” know how to speak and understand Spanish, to make up for his (and anyone else’s) choice not to learn enough English to at least interact with the larger community living outside his family/friends. 

I didn’t learn Spanish to satisfy this man or to make up for his short-comings. I learned Spanish because I like to learn, I love language, and because I recognize that the United States is an immigrant nation, the largest immigrant group of which happens to be Spanish speakers (the latest census of which documents 45 million Hispanophones). I knew that in my medical career there would be a very good chance I would be interacting and caring for these patients, and I wanted a personal way of communicating, more personal than a telephone line or interpreter service.
The United States has no official language. English is primarily spoken, followed by Spanish, followed by Chinese, Tagalog, Vietnamese and French, followed by an even smaller array of Slavic, European, Middle Eastern and Indian languages. With so many languages, unless one is a gifted polyglot, it is impossible to know them all fluently, let alone medical vocabulary in all of them. So, we have to find a way to work together to communicate with each other. For me, it makes sense to know the business language of the world, English, primarily but then to learn secondarily the language of the community of people I interact most often with. For anything else, I need the services of an interpreter. But I think if everyone made an attempt at learning something beyond their native tongue, this would work toward better communication and a stronger bond between one another. After all, we are citizens of a beautiful, culturally diverse nation. We should embrace that – not use it to make more divisions.

In the end, I actually felt sorry for my patient. I hope I never reach a stage in my life when I deem myself “too old” to learn something. And I hope when faced with a choice, I choose the path that unites, not divides.

Political Opinions, Preko, Croatia