these interpretation sessions at the hospital are very draining. very. emotionally. the easy ones are those when they make an appointment ages in advance, nothing's the matter really it's just straightforward, low emotional-involvement translation, telling the doctor "he says there is a sharp pain in his right knee" and "no she is not allergic to nuts". i am less sure about doing er or post-op cases because although i'm reasonably good about the blood and gore you can't help be directly affected by the suffering of the person in front of you, all slung up in bandages and moaning without relief. but i'm v v v afraid of what i had to do tonight, of sessions that depend on me as more than a translator. not always, but quite often, when i have to interpret, i feel frustrated with the insufficiency of language, and especially with the different cultural misunderstandings that are so deep and that i am very quick to pick up but am not free to do anything about, and at the same time trying to manage several people's feelings, to both feel sympathy and have my own definite views which as an interpreter i must keep suppressed all the time, and with growing dissatisfactions of my own about the "system", which becomes pronounced in hospitals where the long waits and the general unhappiness and irritability of people can drive you mad. sometimes i think that when i leave the hospital i'm the one who needs some destressing and counselling. i was there from just before 6 and didn't get home till 8.20. and i missed dining hall hours and don't want to cook again after having cooked lunch, so i'm eating yoghurt and crackers, which is totally not perk-up food. and i have 70 lines of virgil for tomorrow that i haven't touched. growl.