The Language Of Medicine 12th Edition Pdf Novels & Stories

However, young love was as perfect and long-lasting as the stars. I walked over and tilted his head up so that I could stare into his eyes. "It's okay, Samuel. You still have me. I'm going to study medicine, and I'll cure you." His face flushed deeply. "Tell me. If I'm your doctor, will you accept treatment?" His eyes sparkled as he looked back into my eyes. "I will!" He was blushing hard as he wrapped his arms tight around me. "Hannah, only you can be my doctor."

"You have 'Visit Summary' but it should be 'Clinical Encounter.' And this button says 'Talk to Doctor' when the correct term is 'Provider Communication.'" "I used simple language on purpose. For patients who aren't familiar with medical jargon." "Medical software needs to use proper medical terminology. Otherwise it's not professional." "The whole point is to make it accessible." "The point is to make it accurate." Their voices were rising. Everyone else in the room had gone silent, watching the exchange like a tennis match. "I've been working on this design for six months," Kristine said through gritted teeth. "I've done extensive user testing. Patients prefer simple language."

I read it now with the attention I should have brought to it five years ago, the cold analytical focus of someone reading a document for accuracy rather than confirmation. The procedure described was a standard clinical procedure. The language was correct in the general sense, the kind of correct that came from researching the terminology rather than practicing the medicine. But there were phrases that sat slightly wrong, the way a translation sits slightly wrong when the translator understands the words but not the idiom. The patient was administered standard protocol. Standard protocol. No physician wrote standard protocol in a clinical report. Physicians wrote specific protocols. Dosages.

A few older issues of Annals of Internal Medicine that she'd clearly read more than once. I told myself I wasn't going to read them. I lasted two days. On the third morning, I was alone in the office, and I picked one up. Just to look. The language came back to me the way a language always does when it belongs to you — immediately, completely, like it had never left. Myocardial. Peritoneal. Contraindication. I turned the pages and felt something loosen in my chest that I hadn't realized was tight. You spent six years learning this, I thought. You don't get to pretend you didn't.