Interpreting a Foreign Language
I recently decided to start a new adventure on the World Wide Web. With advances in technology today, I figured that designing my own website would be easy. I was wrong. I ran into so many difficulties and had trouble finding answers. What I learned was that I didn't even know the language necessary to ask the questions I had in my head. Such acronyms as CNAME and HTML made sense in one context, but when I went to apply the information, I was lost. Quickly, I grew frustrated.
Later that day, I went to work. I was still fuming at my inability to do something that so many people had expressed as easy. I received report only to find out that this one family was refusing to allow us to perform any procedures on their ill child. I shook my head and sighed. I didn't know if I had the energy to deal with this after my frustrating ordeal at home.
It took a lot of effort, but I put it all aside, forced a smile and entered the room. The air was thick with hostility. Both family members glared at me. The child was alert, her cheeks flushed with fever. She was sick, but holding her own. Her fussiness was apparent, as was the fatigue the mom was feeling. My heart softened and I knew we had to find a way to help this family.
I began speaking and was bombarded with questions of why and how come. I tried very hard to explain the rationale of the ER team. It didn't work, at first. So, instead of just walking out, I sat down on the bed next to the primary caregiver. We talked, a lot; I explained big medical terms and acronyms repeatedly. We compromised by discussing what she was comfortable with allowing and what I was comfortable with letting go. It wasn't going to be the ideal care situation, but it was most certainly a place to start.
The next day, when I sat down at my computer to again try to make sense of web design, I thought of this family. I remembered their frustration and anger and realized it was no different from mine. I speak the medical terminology language. They don't. So, essentially, they were hearing big words and acronyms they did not understand. I was experiencing the same thing, just in the computer world.
They came back a few days later. I was happy to see them, despite their higher level of frustration. But this time, I approached the situation differently. I understood their anger; I had felt it too. I realized that they didn't even know how to ask questions in regard to their feelings, because they couldn't vocalize what they needed to hear. The hospital was a foreign land; they were lost, and unable to navigate. It was my job to act as an interpreter and give them a few tools to find their way around.
In the end, I used an interpreter too. My brother is a computer software engineer. He helped make sense of the terms I was seeing. My website is up and running. I understand more than I ever thought possible. And, I realized that the culture of nursing is so integrated into everything I know that, at times, I forget to act as an interpreter. It sounds basic, but I think that is one of the hazards of experience. I am so fluent in hospital lingo that I assume everyone is, until a ‘difficult' family challenges me.
So, the next time I am faced with hostility I know I will be different. As hard as it can be, I will try to hear what they are saying before I attempt to translate what I need to say. And, I will be easier on myself. Learning a new language is hard, but worth it. And maybe, just maybe, I can make a difference in how someone perceives the foreign land of hospitals.