You're eight months into your first pregnancy（怀孕）. You feel like your baby is in distress（悲痛）. You've started to bleed（出血） heavily. You're rushed（冲） into hospital. You find yourself lying in a trolley（手推车） in pain, confused, in the midst（中部） of a chaotic（混乱的） ward（ 病房） when a doctor rushes（冲） over to tell you. Mama, to not attack a kufanya operation in a caesarean section.

  How did that make you feel? Hold on to that feeling, because that is what so many patients experience any time they attempt（尝试） to access health care services. My name is Dr.Yasmin Moolji. I'm an obstetrician and gynecologist. My multi-cultural heritage（遗产） has made me recognize that language has been my primary way of communicating and expressing myself anywhere I've been. I believe that being able to have and use your voice is fundamental（基本的） for anyone to successfully integrate（使…完整） into any society.

  I hope this talk today will inspire（激发） us to rethink how we choose to address（写名字地址） the language barrier（(阻碍通道的)障碍物） in our everyday practice. The language you just heard me speak was Swahili, a language I grew up with having been born（承担） and raised in Uganda and Kenya（肯尼亚（非洲国家））. Any Swahili speakers in the house? You'll understand what I was talking about earlier on. And to the rest of you, perhaps you felt confused or uneasy. Although this may be an uncomfortable conversation to have, it is an important one for any multi-cultural society to engage（使从事于） in.

  So what the doctor said earlier on, but in English, was this. Miss, we need to do an operation called a cesarean section. If there is a delay（ 拖延） in delivering your baby and you continue to bleed（出血）, the baby could have reduced oxygen supply to the brain, could be born with learning（学习） disabilities（残疾）, and could even die. And your life could be at risk as well. We need to do this operation urgently as soon as possible in order to save yours and your baby's life. The Irish playwright（剧作家）, George Bernard Shaw, said that the single biggest problem in communication is the illusion（幻觉） that it has taken place.

  We've all been there. Been in situations where we've struggled（ 努力） to get our point across even when we're speaking the same language. We know how frustrating（令人沮丧的） and uneasy it can make us feel. Now, consider what it feels like when you don't share the same linguistic（语言的） proficiency（精通） as the people that you're trying to communicate with. If you're in a restaurant in France on a hot summer's day, summoning（召唤） the remnants（残余） of your schoolland friends from the depths（[海洋] 深度） of your memory, you confidently（ 确信地） ask the waiter for a drink en boissant. Until your dismay（沮丧）, the waiter returns 10 minutes later with a fish en poisson.

  Frustrating may be a little bit funny, but certainly not the end of the world. Now, consider this degree of miscommunication when lives are at risk. Emergency medical decisions are being made every day without patients being fully（充分地） aware of what's going on and what their choices are. The results of this can be life-changing and even life-threatening（威胁）. So how do we, as health care professionals（专业人员）, provide a quality service to our patients if we can't even engage with them in conversation? And who should the owners fall on to ensure（保证） that clinicians and patients understand each other?

  Us? Or the patients themselves?