Reflection: Lost in Translation
The frail man lay in bed, with his wife on the left side of the bed, looking expectantly. On the right side, I stood with my resident. The couple looked at my name tag, recognized a Vietnamese last name, and started a conversation. I replied cordially, making small talk until I could get a translator on the phone. When one finally answered, I handed the phone to the resident and took a step back so that the couple could focus their attention on the resident. As the resident interviewed the man via the translator, I listened to the translation of the man’s words, satisfied with what I was hearing. However, I heard a higher-pitched, lower-volume coming from the side of the bed. The wife was also speaking, though not as loudly, and the translator either did not hear or care to translate what she was saying. Though she was not providing any new facts, she was stating her feelings about the situation. The man had recently undergone radiation and chemotherapy in Vietnam for stage IV lung cancer. During the treatment, he and his wife had been told that he had been cured. However, his most recent x-ray showed multiple metastases all over his chest and abdomen. The patient had made his peace, telling the translator that he no longer wanted treatment. He was ready to die. The wife, however, did not want to give up. She wanted to hear all the available options, to know why the doctors in Vietnam had lied to them, to understand how this could ever happen to anyone. The resident, only understanding the translator, heard a man ready to die after a long life. I, hearing both the husband and the wife, saw multiple dimensions to the story and felt trapped in their dilemma.
