Language in Hospitals by Billy Stoddard

I recently endured a visit to the ER. While I was there, I witnessed firsthand how different types of languages were employed during my stay. Hospitals are full of information- tons of signs on the walls, labels on equipment, dialogues between patients and healthcare professionals. The whole process went like this.

I had injured my leg by falling off an exercise box. I could see my tibia inside the wound. I thought I had compound fractured my leg. My mother was hysterical. She pulled up to the ER and got out of the car. The police officer came outside to see what was going on. I attempted to get out of the car.

"Woah buddy. Stay where you are we will get you out in just a second". The officer was assertive. He commanded me to stay where I was to prevent further injury to myself.

"Mike, I need a wheelchair out here." Again the officer used assertive language to make things happen quickly. He wrapped his arm around me and helped me out of the car.

"You are going to be okay kid. Hang in there. We are going to take good care of you." The officer comforted me and my mom with compassionate language.

I then was wheeled into the waiting area.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" The first triage nurse again comforted me with her kind words.

"How is the pain level on a scale of 1-10?" She used inquisitive language to gather more information. After taking my vital information, she turned to the other nurse.

"We have a possible urgent surgical here. I need Dr. Thomas here ASAP. Tell Jen to prep x-ray purple for an immediate scan." The nurse spoke shortly, sharply, decisively. She conveyed lots of information very quickly and left no doubt about what she wanted done.

A couple more people in scrubs were running around me. I was wheeled into the x ray room.

"Alright honey, ever had an x ray before?" The technician assisted me onto the table. She explained to me what was going on and used soft tones to keep me calm.

I then was taken to a hospital room. I played out on the bed as the doctor came in.

"Hi, William. My name is Shannon Thomas but you can call me Shannon. Do you mind telling me what happened while we wait for your x rays?" Again, soft language.

"Mrs. Stoddard, could you step outside?" Brief, polite.

I could hear the voices in the hallway.
"It looks worse than it is. He has no breaks in the tibia, and he has the greatest pareosteum I have ever seen in a sixteen year old. The american diet is terrible for bone structure. What does he eat? I mean, these are the thickest... this white part here? Yes that's it. They look fabulous. Couldn't be better. Right now, he has a deep laceration but that is really nothing threatening. Because we could see bone inside the laceration, we were concerned about a compound fracture.  We have a muscle tear here, the anterior or rear one. That will take some time to heal. We will get him some sutures and then he will be good to go. Yes ma'am, everything is fine."

What really stood out to me was the contrast between the dialogues. When talking to me or my mom, the doctors and nurses spoke softly and soothingly. When addressing each other, they were brief, to the point, exact. They were almost rude. However, this type of language was present all over the hospital. The difference in tones and word choice was really obvious.