The Spanish Teacher

The following scenario commonly occurs when I am in the middle of performing an eye exam on a Spanish speaking patient, who happens to have brought along a family member or friend who is bilingual. 

Me: ¿Cuándo empezaron los síntomas?

Patient: Hace una semana.

Me: ¿Tuvo Usted estos síntomas en el pasado?

(loud interruption from the patient’s friend, sitting in the room while the exam is going on)

Friend: ¿TENÍA Usted los síntomas ….?”

Patient: No.

Me: ¿Usa Ud. lágrimas artificiales?

(Patient looks at her friend, quizzically)

Friend: GOTAS…..¿Usas GOTAS?

Patient: Una vez al día.

(later in the exam)

Me: Usted tiene una infección de los ojos se llama conjuntivitis.  Use esta gota cuatro veces al día (showing her a medicated eyedrop) y recuerde Usted---lavése los manos frecuentemente. Esta infección….

(interrupted by the friend again)

Friend: …lavése LAS MANOS frecuentemente….

Me (after a pause):…..las manos frecuentemente porque la infección es muy contagiosa. Va a regresar aquí en tres semanas para la próxima cita.  

To summarize, I suspect a patient has viral conjunctivitis based on her symptoms and I ask her more about the symptoms she is having.  While speaking, I make a mistake in my choice of verb tense and I mismatch a masculine article with a feminine noun.  The patient’s friend, without being asked, elects herself to correct me throughout the conversation.   

Depending on the day, how confident I feel and my overall mood,  I may view the Spanish-teaching friend of the patient as a help—or a hindrance—to me in the exam room.  I realize that anyone looking at this situation objectively may think, what’s the harm? If anything, the patient’s friend is there helping me learn – in essence—helping me hone my Spanish speaking skills.  

And this is true—I can think of many instances when my knowledge of Spanish or medical Spanish vocabulary increased because these generous people volunteered information:

“tubito”—when I was trying to find the word for “vial”, as in, the small vials preservative free tears are sold in

“parpadea”—when I was telling a patient to open and close his eyes, unable to remember the word for “blink”

“fomento tibio”—when I attempted to describe a towel soaked in warm water to apply as a compress and could come up with nothing more than “toalla caliente”

“mentón”—when I told a patient, “Ponga la barbilla aquí.” And he didn’t understand this alternate word ‘barbilla’ for “chin”

“signos de diabetes” to mean “signs of diabetes”not “señales de diabetes” because señales are traffic lights, not signs

As the patient’s physician, I want to be intelligent in my speech.   I don’t want to speak in choppy sentences or make grammar mistakes or mispronounce my words.   I want to sound professional and, in doing so, put the patient at ease.  I do have a certain level of insecurity when attempting to accomplish this in Spanish, my non-native language.  Even after all my years of learning, I realize that there is still much more to learn and I may or may not ever reach the vocabulary level of a native speaker.  But I do wish to try and at least sound articulate in Spanish.  To have someone else in the room, listening to and correcting my every word, in essence, virtually diagramming my sentences as they come out of my mouth, only serves to highlight my mistakes and insecurities—and there are moments when this can and does make me very uncomfortable.  Not to mention the fact that attention is drawn away from the patient and the exam.

One solution I have found that works particularly well for me is to put the Spanish Teacher “to the test”.    In other words,  when this person starts correcting me, I make a mental note of the correction---and begin asking  grammar questions right back at him/her!  

For example:

(talking to the patient)

Me: ¿Tuvo Usted los síntomas en el pasado?

Friend, aka, The Teacher: ¿…TENÍA los síntomas…?

Me (to The Teacher): Well, I used “tuvo”, the preterite past tense, because the action in the sentence happened once in the past--it wasn’t ongoing. But you’re saying I have to use the imperfect tense?

The Teacher:  I don’t know about preterite or imperfect. I just know what sounds right.  That’s how I would say it.

Me: Está bien. Gracias.

In this way, I acknowledge my mistake and take an opportunity to learn from it.  At the same time, I force the Teacher to explain herself (even if she doesn’t know exactly why she says the things she does in the language).  I believe this helps put me back in control of the exam—and allows me to give my undivided attention to the one who requires it: my patient!