I like words. I like the sound they make, the pictures they draw and the sense they create when placed in a line. Onomatopoaeia (meaning imitating the sound described – e.g. ‘splash’) is a lovely word itself. In Irish nimhneach (pro. Niv-nyach) is a an onomatopoaeic term useful in a doctor’s work.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about communication difficulties between the doctor and the patient inEnglish alone – can you imagine the issues when two languages are involved? Sometimes these issues are benefits rather than problems.
My patient was Bridie Laverne. Strange name for an Norn Irish woman– she was reared in Gweedore and Irish was her first language. She married a Welshman and came to live in Northern Ireland; when I met her she was widowed, she soon discovered I spoke a little Irish and she loved greeting me and thanking me in her native tongue. This wasn’t too frequent, I should add, as she rather disliked attending the doctor at all, whatever the language!
Bridie developed a cancer in her seventies and despite doing well for a couple of years came to the terminal stage of her life. She was nursed at home by her dedicated daughter Ann– but every time I attended her there she spoke to me in Irish, so that Ann wouldn’t understand, and wouldn’t be upset! She spoke about dying, and about her symptoms.
Sure Ann knew the whole story – indeed it was she who discovered Bridie’s cancer in the first place, while helping her in the bath one day – but maternal instinct of protecting the daughter from distress was strong.
I didn’t understand all she said, but I had enough Irish to get the drift. And when Bridie was very ill, in her last few days of life, she spoke only in Irish. (Ann remembered that her mother’s sleep talking was always in her original tongue).
We were able to ensure Bridie was not nimhneach (sore) and had no samhnas (nausea) in her final days, and bhí bás suaimhneach aici. (she died peacefully).
I met Ann the other day and was reminded of Bridie agus an Gaeilge. Cronaím í. (I miss her).
Thursday 22 March 2007
Friday 16 March 2007
Difficult Doris
Difficult Doris (not her real name) was back in to see me. I wrote about her last year – she isn’t as sick as she wants to be, she complains all the time and annoys everyone. Her hairdresser hates to see her coming. “Nobody knows how much I’m suffering, Doctor!” she tells me. “I do, Doris, you tell me every week,” I think, but don’t reply.
“That eye doctor made a botch of the operation. I can’t see a thing, now!” was Doris’ most recent complaint. Well, I had to stop myself from administering a good smack! (Deep breath - me, not Doris … count to ten…no point in getting Struck Off for failing to control my temper).
So I settled down to try to explain…
Doris had good sight in her right eye but poor sight in the left. The measurement for the left eye was 6/36 – meaning that she had to be as close as 6 metres to see things ordinarily seen from 36 metres away. Examination showed a cataract in the lens of the eye, near the front of the eyeball. The surgeon removed the lens properly but unfortunately there was a disease on the retina at the back of the eyeball, so even though the cataract was away, Doris’ sight didn’t improve much.
The problem with the retina could not be detected before the operation – after all, if the cataract stops Doris seeing out, it also stops the doctor from seeing in! But Doris didn’t care about my explanation, she just wanted to complain. Her eyesight was bad, she had an operation and her eyesight was still bad, so that must be the doctor’s fault.
The cataract operation is one of medicine’s great successes in recent years. A cataract is a change in the lens of the eye, changing it from being like clear glass to being like frosted bathroom glass. Cataracts are commoner in older people, in diabetics, in people who take steroids and where there has been damage to the eye before. The operation can be done under local anaesthetic and doesn’t seem to take long. Suddenly the blind can see! Well – sometimes. If the cataract is the only problem and the rest of the eye is healthy, then it works wonderfully. If some other part of the eye is diseased, as in Doris’ case, it doesn’t.
It takes years and years to train to be an eye surgeon. The skills needed are needlework of the finest measure, a steady hand and of course good eyesight in the surgeon him/herself. The artificial lens that is put into the eye is tiny and delicate, and any slip can destroy it. The surgeons deserve great praise for their skills and the years of learning, and certainly don’t need Doris’ unfounded whinges.
Doris then wanted praise… “Other people would sue the eye doctor, but I’m not that kind of person!” see told me. Mmm. “In this case, where the operation was done properly and the problem was caused by diseases, not doctors, there would be no chance of showing negligence.” I told her. I think that only made her grumpier.
“That eye doctor made a botch of the operation. I can’t see a thing, now!” was Doris’ most recent complaint. Well, I had to stop myself from administering a good smack! (Deep breath - me, not Doris … count to ten…no point in getting Struck Off for failing to control my temper).
So I settled down to try to explain…
Doris had good sight in her right eye but poor sight in the left. The measurement for the left eye was 6/36 – meaning that she had to be as close as 6 metres to see things ordinarily seen from 36 metres away. Examination showed a cataract in the lens of the eye, near the front of the eyeball. The surgeon removed the lens properly but unfortunately there was a disease on the retina at the back of the eyeball, so even though the cataract was away, Doris’ sight didn’t improve much.
The problem with the retina could not be detected before the operation – after all, if the cataract stops Doris seeing out, it also stops the doctor from seeing in! But Doris didn’t care about my explanation, she just wanted to complain. Her eyesight was bad, she had an operation and her eyesight was still bad, so that must be the doctor’s fault.
The cataract operation is one of medicine’s great successes in recent years. A cataract is a change in the lens of the eye, changing it from being like clear glass to being like frosted bathroom glass. Cataracts are commoner in older people, in diabetics, in people who take steroids and where there has been damage to the eye before. The operation can be done under local anaesthetic and doesn’t seem to take long. Suddenly the blind can see! Well – sometimes. If the cataract is the only problem and the rest of the eye is healthy, then it works wonderfully. If some other part of the eye is diseased, as in Doris’ case, it doesn’t.
It takes years and years to train to be an eye surgeon. The skills needed are needlework of the finest measure, a steady hand and of course good eyesight in the surgeon him/herself. The artificial lens that is put into the eye is tiny and delicate, and any slip can destroy it. The surgeons deserve great praise for their skills and the years of learning, and certainly don’t need Doris’ unfounded whinges.
Doris then wanted praise… “Other people would sue the eye doctor, but I’m not that kind of person!” see told me. Mmm. “In this case, where the operation was done properly and the problem was caused by diseases, not doctors, there would be no chance of showing negligence.” I told her. I think that only made her grumpier.
Monday 5 March 2007
A Load of Groins, and Bill McLaren
The football commentators were at it again yesterday – referring to ‘testicles’ as groins. They must know better, but some strange shyness comes over them when a footballer gets felled by a ball in the balls. The tv men mustn’t have been reading our website: (http://www.bbc.co.uk/northernireland/mindyourself/) where we tried to help with the words. I wonder what they say at the doctor’s? A lump in the groin is very different from a lump in the testicle – the doctor could be examining the wrong part.
The groin is the fold at the top of the leg, where the leg joins the lower tummy. It is diagnonal, running downwards and inwards. It holds lots of tendons, tubes of blood, a bunch of nerve cables and small lumps called lymph nodes. There is one on each side. Girls have groins too. A ‘groin strain’ is a pain from overstretching the muscles in the groin area.
The testicles are the ball-like things in the scrotum (also called ball-bag, no surprise there). The testicles are very, very sensitive and a thump in the testicles is very sore indeed. For some strange reason, when a man sees a colleague collapse in pain from such a thump, he – the first guy – smiles. I don’t know why this is, but we all do it, even the nice guys. Girls don't have testicles.
The words are straightforward, easy to pronounce and not at all rude. So commentators – let’s hear them.
That said, I remember the great rugby commentator Bill McLaren, describe an incident when a huge Welsh forward was changing his torn shorts at Cardiff Arms Park. His teammates gathered around him, for modesty, or as Bill said “So that he wouldn’t frighten anybody.”
The groin is the fold at the top of the leg, where the leg joins the lower tummy. It is diagnonal, running downwards and inwards. It holds lots of tendons, tubes of blood, a bunch of nerve cables and small lumps called lymph nodes. There is one on each side. Girls have groins too. A ‘groin strain’ is a pain from overstretching the muscles in the groin area.
The testicles are the ball-like things in the scrotum (also called ball-bag, no surprise there). The testicles are very, very sensitive and a thump in the testicles is very sore indeed. For some strange reason, when a man sees a colleague collapse in pain from such a thump, he – the first guy – smiles. I don’t know why this is, but we all do it, even the nice guys. Girls don't have testicles.
The words are straightforward, easy to pronounce and not at all rude. So commentators – let’s hear them.
That said, I remember the great rugby commentator Bill McLaren, describe an incident when a huge Welsh forward was changing his torn shorts at Cardiff Arms Park. His teammates gathered around him, for modesty, or as Bill said “So that he wouldn’t frighten anybody.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)