A kind nurse rolled me out of the hospital yesterday, eternally grateful to be headed home after several days of tests and treatments. I'm on the mend again, feeling much better and smarter all at the same time. I went in speaking only English. I came out bi-lingual, fully understanding medi-speak. I hope you don't have to use this, but just in case, I want to share with you the most relevant language being used in a modern hospital.
Hat: you'll never want to wear one of these one your head. It's what they call the little plastic bowls they put in the toilet before asking you to "collect" your own "elimination."
Temporary discomfort: if told you "might experience a little temporary discomfort" you're in trouble. It really means, "This is going to hurt like hell but you'll get over it in a few days."
Hot stick: you don't want one of these. It means a "special IV technician" is about to take a harmless looking needle with wings and stick it way deep into a vein, thrusting it in an out while your entire body burns. Just before you pass out, the technician will cheerily announce, "OK, I think I've found one that works!" Resist the urge to respond, "Are you sure? I once went on an archeological dig that wasn't this comprehensive or time consuming."
We're trying to isolate the problem: this is what doctors say when they don't agree with one another on your diagnosis. One of mine thought I had Crohn's Disease. Another was sure my problem was e.coli. After a rousing game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors" they concluded they were both right.
Nutrition: this used to be called "food service." In recognition of the fact that few people would call it food, lawyers are now requiring hospitals to stick with the simplest, most objective term. After all, everything on the tray does, in fact, have some kind of nutrition in it. (Except for the shredded iceberg lettuce with low fat dressing.)
Blood products: Adding the word "products" is apparently supposed to give blood transfusions more of a consumer feel, almost like you're getting something you've shopped for. When these products are delivered right to your bedside, they also come with multiple nurses, who check one another's ability to match the names and numbers on your arm band with what is printed on the bad of blood (which, btw, isn't red so much as it's maroon). When you see the intensity on their faces while they read, it makes you very nervous and grateful all at the same time.
Vital signs: these are things that must be checked every 12 minutes, day and night, especially when you're sleeping. For some reason, vital signs cannot be checked at the same time you're being given medicine or food. It's a whole separate procedure that also can be done only with all the lights on.
My favorite word is discharge because it means you're headed home. At this point, you receive all kinds of paper work that essentially says "here's how you take care of yourself." They slip in several paragraphs that note that if your insurance company doesn't pay the bill, you have to give the blood back or they'll come to your house and do an instant "walletectomy."
I'm certain this language will keep evolving, so I encourage you to share what you have learned from your own personal experience. We have to do our parts to remain relevant as patients because, believe me, you don't want to be an irrelevant patient!