🩺 Still Waiting

Another appointment. Another waiting room. Another empty chair where the interpreter should be.

I asked the receptionist, trying to stay calm, “Was an interpreter booked?”

A shrug. “No one told us you needed one.”

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard that.

Here’s the thing: it’s not the interpreter’s fault. It’s the clinic’s responsibility to make sure communication access is arranged. My access. My right.

But instead, I’m left trying to lipread a doctor I’ve never met. Guessing half of what’s being said. Nodding along while feeling completely in the dark.

I come prepared every time—writing things down, asking for everything in text, repeating myself. But I shouldn’t have to work this hard just to attend a basic appointment.

Still waiting—for access. For understanding. For systems that include us instead of constantly leaving us behind.