trip to the clinic

entrance to clinic which is part of apartment complex

William still hasn't full kicked his cold or, more likely, he caught another one. To help ease his cough and throat, he continues to use a nebulizer. Instead of going to the nearby hospital to use it, we decided to take him into our neighborhood clinic. As far as I know, every neighborhood (housing complex) in China has its own clinic. Ours is run by a husband and wife, who are a doctor and nurse (adorable!). They provide basic care such as administering IVs (probably their most popular service), taking blood pressure, and prescribing medicine.

Whenever I go to the clinic, there is a little old granny roaming around. She must be the mother of either the husband or wife. As a typical old Chinese lady, she loves to chat. Unfortunately, I usually don't feel much like talking when I am out with William, especially when we are alone. I feel worn down by the constant comments, criticisms, and advice strangers feel the need to dole upon us (me). While in America I often like talking with strangers and am somewhat outgoing, in China I often find myself avoiding eye contact, hoping to (please, just this once,) be left alone.

As the elderly woman approached, I sang to William. I hoped this would be a clear enough indicator that I was busy and not up for conversation. Of course, my silly western social cues were lost on her and it just fueled her desire to comment.

“Us grown-ups can't understand you, how can he understand you?” she pondered.

Sigh. While this is certainly flawed logic, I can somewhat understand it. When I first came to China I was momentarily confused when I heard people speaking to their dogs in Chinese. I didn't know what the owner was saying, so how could a puppy possibly understand? But a moment later I realized that obviously an animal learns commands in whatever language it's trained in. Babies are no different, but I didn't feel like explaining this to an old lady. She should have been able to figure it out on her own. So instead, I just smiled and continued singing.

Before long, William started to fuss. Nothing major, just a little squirming. The wife (nurse) rushed over to distract him. You'd think I'd be happy for the help, but I knew what was coming. Sure enough, before long she said to him gently, “Your mom can't handle you.”

I could feel the smoke coming out of my ears. I can't handle him? Was she trying to say I was inept? An unfit mother? Or my child was too unruly? What, exactly, was she insinuating?

“An eight-month-old fusses from having to sit still for 25 minutes doing a nebulizer and YOU have the AUDACITY to say I CAN'T HANDLE HIM,” I wanted to scream. But didn't. I don't know the Chinese word for audacity (but I do now know the word for nebulizer).

But it didn't end there. As I talked and sang to William, trying to get him to relax, the nurse cooed to him sweetly, “Aww, grandma's not here today. There's no one to talk to you.”

I was willing to excuse the 90-year-old woman for her similar comment, but a middle-aged lady should know better. Just because you don't understand the words I'm saying, doesn't mean I'm not talking. But at that moment, I let the wave of anger pass over me. They obviously weren't saying these ridiculous comments in an attempt to hurt me. I kept singing. One day William will be bilingual and he'll be able to speak for himself, in both English and Mandarin.

Have you ever had a frustrating experience due to language differences? How did you deal with it?