The Gaelic? The Gaza

From Germany originally, I fell in love with the wild West of Scotland and did my trainee post on Mull. A few words of Gaelic went a long way. Fliuch (wet) gave you some street credibility and described the weather on an almost daily basis. Thawing out in front of the fire of a remote cottage with a hot cup of tea I realised that I must have been picking up the singing lilt of my native Gaelic speaking patient when he asked me: “Doctor, are you having the Gaelic?”  “No,” I replied, “but I am having the German!” “Aye, aye,” he nodded slowly, “that would do.”

Then I worked as an anaesthetist in Gaza. Arabic was a wee problem, but as my patients spent most of the time asleep, I could usually keep it very simple.

During recovery almost all problems could be solved with two commands:

Chud nefes! (Take a deep breath!)

Ifta tumak! (Open your mouth!)

On my first Chud nefes! nothing happened. I asked Mohammed, the anaesthetic nurse, for help. So he shouts CHUD NEFES! at a hundred decibels. What a big breath!

The British are right about foreign languages. If anyone doesn’t understand you, Shout Louder!!

Nurse!! Where’s my towel?