Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Ramp and the Stop SignLinda Pollack-JohnsonWhen I first began working as a medical interpreter, my goal was simply to use my language skills to help people. I looked forward to learning more about the cultures of my two non-English languages (French and Italian). I did not anticipate that I would learn so much about the talents and culture of those who are differently-abled. I had no clue that I would learn to see the world differently—more fully—and that I would have the opportunity to be part of life-changing moments for those I serve.Most of my interpreting assignments are at hospitals and doctors' offices, where I help Italianspeaking patients navigate through the maze of the U.S. healthcare system. I often get assigned to work at one of the best hospitals in the country, where a lot of research into new treatments takes place.A new gene therapy drug was developed at that hospital to treat children suffering from a degenerative retinal disease. This disease gradually clouds the vision of the afflicted children. Without the one-time treatment, they eventually lose their vision completely. Six of the subjects who are part of the clinical trial for this drug are Italian. They live in Italy and fly back and forth to the US for their check-ups. They have been involved in this study for over 10 years, so all of them are young adults now. More recently, some of them are starting to come with their spouses.This was the case for Matteo (not his real name) who came for his annual visit with his wife Paola (not her real name). Matteo was one of the first courageous volunteers to get the experimental treatment. At that early stage, the dosage considered to be safe was significantly lower than the safe dosage they are using now. As a result, Matteo did not experience as much improvement in his vision as might have been possible later in the game. He can see things that are close to him but not at a distance. He has learned to use and rely on his other senses to compensate for his visual impairment.Matteo, Paola, and I were walking from the main hospital, where we had just finished a lunch break, and were heading to the building where Matteo was scheduled to meet with his ophthalmologist. I looked at my watch and realized we had time to kill before the doctor would be ready for us. I suggested we take a moment to tour a portion of the building that looked very inviting but that I had not had time to explore.A large section of the first-floor lobby of the building has an extra-high ceiling. It creates a kind of atrium, from the lobby to the second floor. A graceful, winding ramp meanders in appealing, gentle curves through this open space. It resembles a vine where the stem is the ramp and where an occasional round "leaf" sticks out from the side of the ramp and serves as a kind of rest stop or balcony where one can pause and appreciate the view. I think it would be really fun to explore it in a wheelchair, but that was not necessary or appropriate for our little group—Matteo is able to walk and navigate on his own, sometimes with the help of a guide. [End Page E1]I opted to lead them downhill, so we took the elevator up one floor and started from the top of the ramp at the second floor. From there, the first "rest stop" was an empty balcony where I described to Matteo that the clear, plexiglass panels making up the protective railing were etched with the names of what I imagined were the donors who contributed to the hospital or to this artistic installation. It was nice but not particularly "accessible" to a person with a visual impairment.We moved on down the ramp. The next rest stop was only slightly more interesting. It had a tall, clear glass display case in the center of the balcony. You could walk completely around it, but I was unsure...