Miss-Delectable
New Member
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2004
- Messages
- 17,160
- Reaction score
- 7
Skilled-interpreter shortage presents hurdle in deaf MD’s quest to become dermatologist - The Globe and Mail
For Jessica Dunkley, the toughest part of medical school was the surgical rotation: Deaf since childhood, she not only had to master complex procedures but cope with colleagues who doubted her ability to function in a high-stress arena.
She studied furiously, determined to be the best-prepared student in the operating room. It helped when a sympathetic colleague told her he’d worked with an anesthetist who was blind. If a blind man can be an anesthetist, she thought, I can be a doctor.
She made it – only to run into a daunting roadblock. As a dermatology resident at the University of British Columbia, she needs the help of sign-language interpreters to complete her five-year program. So far, it’s not clear where that help will come from – a predicament that highlights the bureaucratic cracks in services for the disabled and the critical shortage of interpreters in Canada.
“There are a lot of factors bogging down the process,” Dr. Dunkley, 30, said recently in a Vancouver coffee shop, where she spoke through a sign-language interpreter. “Because I am the first deaf person in this program, there is no system in place. But it’s not just for me but for anyone in the future who may want to study here.”
As a student, her disability would have been accommodated by UBC, which provided interpreters for her at no charge when she pursued an undergraduate degree in physical therapy. Similarly, the University of Ottawa supplied sign-language interpreters during her studies for a medical degree. In some other provinces, medical residents are considered students and therefore fall under universities’ accommodation policies.
But as a medical resident in B.C., she’s an employee of Vancouver Coastal Health, a provincial health authority. Vancouver Coastal is now trying to figure out how to accommodate Dr. Dunkley, weighing costs and staffing requirements as well as safety concerns for patients and medical staff. Privacy is also an issue because patients must consent to having an interpreter in the room.
“We’re working with UBC and the resident to resolve the situation,” said Vancouver Coastal Health spokeswoman Anna Marie D’Angelo. “We certainly want to support her in completing her medical education.”
Born in Vancouver to two deaf parents. Dr. Dunkley first learned to communicate using American Sign Language. English is her second language; she’s also fluent in signing in French.
She is no stranger to breaking new ground: A Métis, Dr. Dunkley is a graduate of the University of Ottawa’s aboriginal program, which aims to turn out 100 native physicians by 2020 to help fill gaps in medical services.
She chose dermatology in part because it involves plentiful visual clues, at which she excels. UBC’s department of dermatology and skin science is Canada’s first, and only, academic dermatology department. Places in the program are coveted. Dr. Dunkley learned in March she had been accepted.
Because she would require the services of more than one interpreter, and because those interpreters would themselves require extensive training, it could cost as much as $250,000 a year to provide her with the help she needs to complete the program.
For now, UBC is paying for limited interpreter service this fall and has revised Dr. Dunkley’s schedule so that her first few months will be spent in rotations that will require minimal assistance from sign-language interpreters, including research and family medicine. In those settings, which for the most part involve face-to-face communication, Dr. Dunkley has been able to rely on her lip-reading skills.
Her hospital clinical duties, which were to start on July 1, are on hold pending resolution of the accommodation issues. The health authority, the university and the labour union that represents medical residents in B.C. are all involved in talks aimed at resolving the issue.
There is a critical lack of interpreters in Canada, especially ones trained in areas such as law and medicine.
“The resources at that level are spread thin,” said Cheryl Wilson, director of Ontario Interpreting Services for the Toronto-based Canadian Hearing Society, adding that it can take years for interpreters to develop the skills, experience and knowledge required in certain fields.
Dr. Dunkley, who’s skied competitively in deaf sporting events and this month took part in the RBC Whistler GranFondo, a 122-kilometre cycling tour between Vancouver and Whistler, says she wants to forge a path for other deaf people who may want to pursue medicine as a career.
“I want to be regarded as Jessica, for my skills, for what I can do,” she said. “Not for just the deaf part of me.”
For Jessica Dunkley, the toughest part of medical school was the surgical rotation: Deaf since childhood, she not only had to master complex procedures but cope with colleagues who doubted her ability to function in a high-stress arena.
She studied furiously, determined to be the best-prepared student in the operating room. It helped when a sympathetic colleague told her he’d worked with an anesthetist who was blind. If a blind man can be an anesthetist, she thought, I can be a doctor.
She made it – only to run into a daunting roadblock. As a dermatology resident at the University of British Columbia, she needs the help of sign-language interpreters to complete her five-year program. So far, it’s not clear where that help will come from – a predicament that highlights the bureaucratic cracks in services for the disabled and the critical shortage of interpreters in Canada.
“There are a lot of factors bogging down the process,” Dr. Dunkley, 30, said recently in a Vancouver coffee shop, where she spoke through a sign-language interpreter. “Because I am the first deaf person in this program, there is no system in place. But it’s not just for me but for anyone in the future who may want to study here.”
As a student, her disability would have been accommodated by UBC, which provided interpreters for her at no charge when she pursued an undergraduate degree in physical therapy. Similarly, the University of Ottawa supplied sign-language interpreters during her studies for a medical degree. In some other provinces, medical residents are considered students and therefore fall under universities’ accommodation policies.
But as a medical resident in B.C., she’s an employee of Vancouver Coastal Health, a provincial health authority. Vancouver Coastal is now trying to figure out how to accommodate Dr. Dunkley, weighing costs and staffing requirements as well as safety concerns for patients and medical staff. Privacy is also an issue because patients must consent to having an interpreter in the room.
“We’re working with UBC and the resident to resolve the situation,” said Vancouver Coastal Health spokeswoman Anna Marie D’Angelo. “We certainly want to support her in completing her medical education.”
Born in Vancouver to two deaf parents. Dr. Dunkley first learned to communicate using American Sign Language. English is her second language; she’s also fluent in signing in French.
She is no stranger to breaking new ground: A Métis, Dr. Dunkley is a graduate of the University of Ottawa’s aboriginal program, which aims to turn out 100 native physicians by 2020 to help fill gaps in medical services.
She chose dermatology in part because it involves plentiful visual clues, at which she excels. UBC’s department of dermatology and skin science is Canada’s first, and only, academic dermatology department. Places in the program are coveted. Dr. Dunkley learned in March she had been accepted.
Because she would require the services of more than one interpreter, and because those interpreters would themselves require extensive training, it could cost as much as $250,000 a year to provide her with the help she needs to complete the program.
For now, UBC is paying for limited interpreter service this fall and has revised Dr. Dunkley’s schedule so that her first few months will be spent in rotations that will require minimal assistance from sign-language interpreters, including research and family medicine. In those settings, which for the most part involve face-to-face communication, Dr. Dunkley has been able to rely on her lip-reading skills.
Her hospital clinical duties, which were to start on July 1, are on hold pending resolution of the accommodation issues. The health authority, the university and the labour union that represents medical residents in B.C. are all involved in talks aimed at resolving the issue.
There is a critical lack of interpreters in Canada, especially ones trained in areas such as law and medicine.
“The resources at that level are spread thin,” said Cheryl Wilson, director of Ontario Interpreting Services for the Toronto-based Canadian Hearing Society, adding that it can take years for interpreters to develop the skills, experience and knowledge required in certain fields.
Dr. Dunkley, who’s skied competitively in deaf sporting events and this month took part in the RBC Whistler GranFondo, a 122-kilometre cycling tour between Vancouver and Whistler, says she wants to forge a path for other deaf people who may want to pursue medicine as a career.
“I want to be regarded as Jessica, for my skills, for what I can do,” she said. “Not for just the deaf part of me.”