Means of Access

Shervin Rezaei

I snapped a photo down the corridor as we were waiting for a physician in the Women’s Health Center. For the interpreter and me, it was our first sense of respite from an emotionally taxing day. The day prior, I observed an Arabic interpreter navigate outpatient clinics with seamless ease, with smiles and laughs abounding. Shadowing in Women’s Health with a Portuguese interpreter struck a different tone. Our first visit was with a young mother who required visits from multiple teams to coordinate care of a potentially life-threatening pregnancy, for both her and her nascent twins. The pace of conversation was slowed, the gravity leaving a palpable air. At the end of her consecutive visits, the patient uttered a heartfelt “thank you” to the interpreter. Much like the window in the corridor, her interpreter was a light in an otherwise unnavigable world. I began to think of a time I was sick abroad, and how deathly scared I was of seeking help in a new system, in a foreign tongue. For this woman to grapple with the potential for dire tragedy, the interpreter was far more than conduit for language exchange. She was a solution, a means of hope, and a light with which to traverse the most difficult of experiences. For non-English speaking patients, proper interpreters are everything – the difference between successful care, and being left in the dark.   

Shervin Rezaei is a second-year medical student and second-generation Iranian-American. While in medical school, he strives to train in the art of relationship-centered, compassionate care.