Day Two: Hello, translator Yamal

Friday afternoons at San Jose Clinic are much like Friday afternoons at other professional facilities: everyone is eager to storm out of the building and start their weekend. Sadly, my schedule this semester only permits me to volunteer on Friday afternoons, so I went to the clinic this past Friday expecting to be offered little to no medical-related work to do, as most physicians are absent from the clinic after 11.00AM.

And I was somewhat right: I arrived at the clinic at 1.00PM only to be told there were only two doctors present and that the volunteering coordinator was in a meeting, so it was unclear what I was supposed to do that evening. The hour and half that followed consisted of waiting--napping, actually--until Samantha, the volunteer coordinator, found me and suggested helping translating for a doctor as the only clinical-related task available.

Such a nice experience. Although her name escapes me, the physician I helped had two follow-up appointments with Spanish-speaking patients suffering from diabetes. As previously stated, about 90% of patients at San Jose are Hispanic and with limited understanding of the English language. My task, then, consisted in allowing the patient communicate symptoms to the physician, and allow the physician communicate her orders. One particular lady saw a weight gain of four pounds and elevated levels of glucose since her last visit, three months ago; it was after asking the patient if she was taking her medication that she commented on running out of her prescriptions about a month ago, and losing her glucometer while in Mexico. Thankfully, her symptoms were not very severe, and she shared with me that she became diabetic after giving birth. Excuse my ignorance, but this was quite a revelation to me.

The second patient of the day had been keeping a log of her daily glucose levels contradicting her tests taken that day, and it wasn't until I translated the correct way of keeping a log that we realized she had been recording her glucometer reading too early after her midday meal. Continuing with the second patient, her worsening condition demanded higher doses of insulin. It was after I translated the new dosage instructions that I realized how crucial my role as a translator was; how unsafe would it have been for the patient to be told a "two unit increase of insulin a week to be necessary" and not comprehend was she was just instructed to do!

I most certainly could continue describing each patient's appointment, but I am confident the above instances depict just how productive my Friday afternoon at San Jose was. In a somewhat unrelated note, I would like to share a flashback I had soon after leaving the clinic: It has been about five years that I moved to Houston from Venezuela, having had such poor knowledge and control over the English language that I was overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and isolation for several months after my arrival. Language, as marvelous as it is, can be a barrier, so to be typing these very words, fully conscious of their meaning, and to have helped those two patients communicate with their physician put a wide smile on my face.

"The limit of my language means the limit to my world" - Ludwig Wittgenstein 

- Yamal