Lost in Translation Again

 6 a.m. Saturday is an ideal time for a call. I had finished writing and was sitting down to breakfast. I told the dispatcher that I would be at the hotel in an hour.

The freeway was clear. Parking, even downtown, would be easy. My phone rang as I drove. It was the guest’s travel insurer warning that there was no answer when he phoned to tell her when I’d arrive. When guests request my services directly and then vanish, I don’t get paid, but this is not the case with travel insurers, so I drove on. It was unlikely she had left the hotel.

At this hour, I check at the desk to make sure I don’t knock at the wrong door. The clerk confirmed the room, called, and reported that someone had answered and then hung up.

It was good news that she was present, not so good that she had immediately hung up. That’s a sign that a guest doesn’t speak English. 

A young Japanese woman greeted me at the door, ushered me inside, consulted her Ipad, then announced in triumph: “......stomach!!....”

One advantage of travel insurance is that dispatchers will interpret. Despite my admonition, they prefer to edit, abridge, and summarize rather than simply translate; their English is often rudimentary, and passing the phone back and forth makes for a long, tedious visit.

On the plus side, these guests usually have uncomplicated problems. It worked out. 

Lost in Translation Again

As I stepped out of the elevator, a Japanese man was waiting. “Are you the doctor for the hotel?” he asked.

I was pleased. “Yes. Are you going to interpret for me?”

He stepped back in alarm and waved his English-Japanese phrase book. Hiding my disappointment, I followed him to the room. When he began flipping through the booklet, I shook my head and pointed to the phone before dialing the guest’s Japanese insurance service for an interpreter. There followed a lengthy encounter as the phone passed back and forth between me, the father, and the patient.

The patient had complained of fatigue the previous day. He was otherwise in good health with no other symptoms, and I found nothing abnormal on examination. Sudden fatigue is an ominous sign in the elderly but rarely in a child. I suspected an emotional problem, perhaps from the stress of foreign travel. This is hard to explain across both language and culture, made even harder because I didn’t give a medicine. Giving medicine is a universal language; that’s why doctors prescribe even when it isn’t necessary.

Luckily these were Japanese, so they listened with unfailing courtesy, through the interpreter, to my reassurance and advice (get a good night’s sleep, continue with their itinerary, call if the problem persisted), nodding approval, and thanking me effusively as I left.

Lost in Translation, Part 5

“My husband…  not good…”

“Tell me what’s happening.”

“….chest…. Not good.”

The desk clerk helped by repeating my words in a loud voice.

“She doesn’t speak much English,” he pointed out.

She wasn’t Hispanic, so there was no hotel employee to interpret. If she had travel insurance, someone at the agency office would help, but it was hopeless to ask about it.

“Would you like me to come to the hotel?”

“WOULD YOU LIKE THE DOCTOR TO COME TO THE HOTEL!!” 

She would. I then listened as the clerk informed everyone within shouting distance of my fee.

The scene in the room resembled absurdist theater. One guest made funny noises (?coughing). Another tapped various parts of the patient’s body. A third read from an English phrase-book (…“can you prescribe an appropriate medication…?”)

Everyone listened intently when I asked a question and then exchanged glances to see if anyone understood. Finally, all nodded agreement.

I’m exaggerating. Guests have simple problems, and there’s usually enough comprehension to get along. So far everything has worked out.