Word Foundation

In an effort to improve my medical editing skills, I am currently re-studying English grammar, something I studied many years ago in elementary school as a child. I’ve discovered throughout the process that either I have: a) minimal recall or b) maximal forgetfulness as I meander my way through concepts either long-abandoned or never learned. Concepts such as predicate adjective, compound sentences and dangling modifiers. Listen, they are vague memories, but very vague, and I’m working to coax them to the fore.

What surprises me most during this process, however, is that certain grammar rules that I do remember and have relied upon my whole life are apparently themselves set for an overhaul. Things are changing. Rules are changing.  Case-in-point: Remember the verb: to prove? When I was a child growing up, the first, second and third principal parts of this verb were taught as:

prove               proved             proven

To give an example, if you were to use the word had or have before prove, you would have written it:

I had proven my theory at the conference.   Or...

I have proven that I am a worthy opponent.

Well, I’m here to tell you all Generation Xers, grab on to the seat of your pants, because my English-language sources are now telling me that the third principal part proven is being replaced by proved.   

For ex:

I had proved my theory at the conference.  Or..

I have proved that I am a worthy opponent.

My grammar book proceeds to tell me that “..while using proven is not considered incorrect, ...it is considered somewhat old-fashioned.”

Can you believe this? Old-fashioned? When did I become ‘old-fashioned’?

During an English to Spanish translation class I participated in recently, I discovered that the Spanish language is experiencing similar forms of change. For example, there was a time when there was a clear distinction between these two words:

sólo and solo

The accented solo meant ‘only’.  The non-accented form meant ‘alone’.  Now, however, the Real Academia Española (RAE) – or the Royal Spanish Academy – has determined that the accented form of the word should be dropped altogether and the meaning of solo inferred from the word use in the sentence. (Incidentally, the Royal Spanish Academy, founded in 1713, serves the purpose of monitoring, preserving and modifying the Spanish language. Questions regarding a particular word, its meaning, spelling and grammar in the Spanish language are directed to the RAE.)

This evolution of languages reminds me of a time in college when I wrote the word aforementioned in an essay I handed in to my English professor. I thought it sounded regal, stately. But my essay was returned with a lower grade and a red circle around aforementioned, with the comment ‘archaic’. I don’t get it. I spent years being taught that what’s important in English writing is word spelling, sentence structure and grammar. I worked hard to memorize rules and meanings. Now, I choose a veritable English word and it’s not ‘with it’ enough? If I pass my days reading Victorian novels, who is to tell me that words like aforementioned and betwixt are archaic? For me, it would be everyday. It would be standard. I learned that the third principal part of the past tense of to prove is proven and therefore it should always be proven, because it’s been tried, true and, well, proven – to me, in my everyday life.

I think we keep certain words in our word foundation, if you will, that we rely upon every day or almost every day, to communicate with people and to make a point. I am always willing to learn something new, but chip away at my current word foundation, and I feel a bit...lost. I need to have a set of vocabulary and structure upon which I can rely. If that foundation is taken away, what do I have to stand on?

I have built a certain medical word foundation in Spanish over the years while practicing medicine with Spanish-speaking patients. There are certain phrases I use ad infinitum when speaking to patients. They always seemed to work, meaning, they were understood by the patient. But after a conversation I had with a patient recently, my reliance on these comfortable phrases was threatened:

Doctora: <al acabar el examen> Todo está bien. Tiene ojos sanos.

Paciente: <expresión de temor extremo> ¿Qué es lo que tengo?  ¿QUÉ tengo?

Doctora: Tiene ojos sanos. Ojos sanos. SANOS. <elevar la voz en manera obligatoria> Tiene ojos saludables. No tiene una enfermedad del ojo. Todo está bi-

Paciente: <aparecer aliviado> Ay, whew, ¡Pensé que me dijo que tengo ojos con gusanos!!!

Doctora: <sonreír> O, no, ojos sanos. <pensar de qué más un paciente no entiende, dependiendo de mi pronunciación de las palabras, o de mi elección de palabras particulares.>

I rely on particular phrases in Spanish during my conversations. Usted tiene ojos sanos is one of them. The phrase is grammatically correct, You have healthy eyes, but either it’s not commonly used by Spanish-speaking doctors (how does an ophthalmologist in Spain or Nicaragua tell her patient: Everything looks good!) or I’m mispronouncing it, because this patient thought I said, Usted tiene ojos con gusanos, essentially, that he has worms in his eyes! Extreme relief ensued when he found out that’s not what I meant! It was funny at that moment, but after the patient left I got to thinking, how many more Spanish-speaking patients of mine have been misinterpreting this seemingly harmless phrase- or worse- anything else that I’ve been saying?

When I come across these issues: vocabulary words that I’ve come to rely upon tossed aside for more modern expressions; phrases that I’ve become accustomed to that are misinterpreted, and grammar rules that are modified or entirely abandoned, I worry. I worry because these are more than just words or expressions to me. They’re a part of me, in a way. They’re who I am. They’re what I’ve cultivated over the years. How we speak is more than just language. It is personal.  It says something about us as people. Certain expressions and words, like the accent a person has, tell a story about that person’s life. Where she comes from. What her experiences have been. I understand that life evolves, and so does language. And I am willing to go along with the ebb and flow of a language’s evolution.  But I’m not willing to set aside my story (and my way of expressing that story) simply because it’s not en vogue.

To this end, I’ve decided: I’m going to continue to use what works. If I speak to my patients in a certain manner and am understood, then that is all that matters. If they don’t understand me, then I will find an expression that they do comprehend.  That’s not old-fashioned and it’s not archaic. It’s an adaptable uniqueness.  And to me,  it’s beautiful.

References

Witte, Flo, PhD. Basic Grammar and Usage – An Essential Skills Workshop of the American Medical Writers Association. American Medical Writers Association, 2011.

Desert Adaptations, Joshua Tree Nat'l Park