PEOPLE from Northern Ireland have always had a communication problem. Not just about how we explain the Troubles, but about almost everything else. I sometimes think that we’re not altogether comfortable with the English language.
Unlike people from the south of Ireland, who seem to love words and roll them about their tongues like ice-cream, we have a tendency to use ours sparingly and spit them out like gobs of cod-liver oil. Maybe it’s the Scot in us.
To make matters worse, we also have a traditional difficulty converting our thoughts into words that make sense to outsiders.
Whenever I am challenged on this, I always produce a copy of a small book given to me by a friend who spent many years working as a receptionist for various local physicians and dentists. In this book she noted down striking things that people said to her on the phone.
For instance, she didn’t flinch when she was asked to “tell the doctor that I have a shooting pain in my arm and there’s a rat in the coal shed”. Easy. One obviously aggravated the other. Here are more examples of pieces of information that appear to conflict;
“My headache is so bad that I can’t get my tights on”.
“She twisted her ankle running across the road when the green man was flashing”.
“She isn’t eating and she’s going to Corfu”.
“I took a turn in my legs and the nurse on the caravan site won’t take responsibility for them”.
“Billy’s father has Parkinson’s Disease and I’ve looked after him for 23 years. Is it any wonder I’m a diabetic?”.
Sometimes a more cultured voice is heard on the line. Try this: “Mother and I have been looking at father’s circulation”. And sometimes the Troubles rear an ugly head; “He asked me to ring up and say that he needed another sick line cos he thinks he’s going to be assassinated!”.
Difficulty with describing physical symptoms seems to be common when people who are not accustomed to expressing themselves fully are asked to dig deep in an attempt to put the doctor in the picture; “He has a rash on his legs and it’s itchy and red and it gets worse when he’s in heat”.
“My wife has a weasel on her chest”.
“I’m filling up with water every three weeks”.
“There’s a thing at the back of my husband’s throat that makes him bark like a dog”.
“Every time my wife goes to the toilet her head is on the floor”.
“My husband pulled a muscle in his arm and now and again it grabs him”.
And, cryptically, “I have this eye!”.
Then there are people who are confused, frustrated by their inability to convey the true horror of symptoms that are almost too grotesque to outline; “He has a pain in his leg that moves up his back, then his legs leave him and his hands swell up. He also has bulging eardrums and a bubbly chest”. Hello, Elephant Man?
“He has heart muscles up the sides of his throat”.
“My leg keeps coming backwards and forwards”.
“I got those tablets the time my eyes were disappearing”.
“The doctor looked at my arms and told me that they were emancipated”.
“My husband has a T-bone shaped pain down his back”.
“She came back from Greece and her legs were like two elephants”.
“When my husband woke up this morning his brain was frozen”.
“I’m worried about my husband. He’s talking through himself”.
Of course, real problems arise when people have to give information of a…delicate, personal nature.
“I have an itch where I shouldn’t have one”.
“I have a burning sensation downstairs”.
“My husband wants to know if his swollen glands have anything to do with me being pregnant?”
“My family’s had VD for a week. It’s been all round the house”.
“I couldn’t be pregnant. My husband’s got a broken leg!”.
And then there is my personal favourite uttered, apparently in a conspiratorial tone; “Can you pull any strings in the wart clinic?”.
Incidentally, it’s not only the patients who say surprising things. My friend records in her notebook a comment that was scribbled on a casualty report by the doctor in charge. He wrote: “The patient was hit on the head by Santa’s horse”.
Beat that…
Originally published in The Belfast Telegraph