The Experience “So, how are you feeling today?” I retrieve the question off the doctor’s lips and compose myself before launching into an explanation. She is a stranger to me, and though she can easily see on my medical records that I am deaf, I wonder if she knows what that entails for our conversation. I wonder if she knows that, for me, deafness is not just a medical condition, a malady to be treated with prescriptions and therapeutic remedies. It is a dominant force that shapes the way I communicate, the way I understand my world. It has influenced my life experiences as much as any physical characteristic can, even while in another sense it is no different than, say, wearing contact lenses. I see through the lens of my deafness, and I use a particular set of strategies to surmount any barriers it sets before me, even while it is a deep and inescapable part of who I am. I also wonder if my doctor knows that, despite the “profound hearing loss” designation that must dominate my medical file, I come in today just as anyone else would, wanting to have a direct conversation about my body and my condition. I am sure she does, since she is treating me as she would any other patient. She listens, speaks normally, and looks down at her clipboard from time to time. I appreciate this; I am simply myself, and I am here for a routine physical. Yet difficulties seep in when she treats me like she would treat any other person. This is the paradoxical reality of my life: in many ways I feel and function just like anyone else, but I must often behave differently if I am to communicate on an equal plane.
2013-11-12 | 104 visitas | Evalua este artículo 0 valoraciones
Vol. 1 Núm.2. Junio 2013 Pags. 94-96 Int J Med Students 2013; 1(2)