(Part of a series based upon Stiles, The Anatomy of Medical Terminology (Radix Antiqua 2015; ISBN 978-1-988941-240)
TIGERS OF INDIA?
TIGERS OF INDIA?
In
"Noisy Words" I invoked what I called the "Golden Age of
Latglish" to advance the point that in that particular mythic past (up to
1950 or so, for the sake of argument) users of medical terminology (like users
of Latglish in all its subtypes) both created and understood complex words more
or less unconsciously, at need, being virtual "native speakers" of
this particular jargon. It is only a
small exaggeration to claim that these people would no more have thought of
looking up a complex word "in
the dictionary" (to see if it exists; or how to say it, or spell it, or
what it means) than we native speakers of English would think of looking up a sentence in some imaginary
dictionary-like "corpus" of all the possible correct utterances in
English.
In the
Golden Age, as a linguist might put it, the jargon was "productive."
But
this wide-spread "fluent Latglish" is of course a thing of the
past. Still, I would like to argue here
that the jargon remains productive, despite limitations caused by the fact of a
much smaller number of users with "native-speaker" proficiency, and a
consequent much larger number possessing on average a far smaller useable
repetoire of word-parts and patterns of combination.
Partly
due to these limitations, the current and developing jargon is changing in ways
that are not only unpredictable (all language change is unpredictable) but also
inconsistent and sometimes even contradictory or backwards-going.
Future
blogposts will discuss some of the more egregious of these in detail; for now I
want to suggest that at some point the medical world might wake up to the fact
that amidst all the heroic measures currently taken to prevent (for example)
infection and procedural errors in the operating room, there is lots of room
for improvement in this realm of vocabulary....
Since any
such "awakening" might just provoke a "return to best practices"--that
is, those of the (perhaps, as so often it is, mythical!) past, some of the
obsolescing, but very useful, past patterns might be recognized as worthy of
revival.
And so
it seems safest, in order to best prepare students for the real world of
contemporary expert usage, to ground them solidly not only in how the jargon is
being used now but also in how it has been used in the past, as well as in how
both past and present patterns may lead to future possibilities, whether
realizeable in the short term or for now remaining merely potential.
But we
need to base any study of these patterns firmly upon an understanding of the
ways complex words tell us about themselves, and on how such information can differ
from their "dictionary definitions."
So, to
review: a word consisting of only one morpheme needs a "definition"
(which tells us what the word "means") with reference to the real
world. Thus the word elephant, like the word tiger, requires a "definition"
which (minimally) enables us to recognize the beast itself. In the first case perhaps this will be a
description provided by one or more of the famous blindfolded wisemen--several
agree that it is vaguely cylindrical, variously experiencing a leg, the tail,
the trunk and a tusk; it is soft and ropy, says the one at the tail; no no it
is hard and sharp and pointy, asserts the tusk-man. (Note that any of these descriptions might be
more useful than one arising from "the elephant in the room;" or--for
the elephant-joke enthusiast among us--the one provoked by the famous
footprints in the butter.)
Before
we leave the descriptions provided by the unseeing sages, just imagine if one
of them grabbed an elephant tusk and another a sabre-tooth-tiger-tooth! (Note, in passing, that this last word tells
us that it names a tooth belonging to the kind of tiger known as a sabre-tooth
because it has a long hard sharp pointy one.)
But
more likely our description will be more useful than any of these: the elephant
isn't going to eat us, while the tiger--whether one of William James'
"tigers of India" or a plain ordinary sabre-tooth (which by the way
scientists now say is not a member of the category "tiger" at all!)
is not likely to crush us to death jumping out of its tree at four o'clock in
the afternoon (did no one else grow up on elephant jokes?).
A word
consisting of two or more morphemes on the other hand by and of itself already tells
us a great deal about what it (the word) "means," by the reference it
makes to other words. Thus the word elephant-s tells us that, whatever one
"elephant" is, we are now postulating the existence of two or more of
them--we may be surrounded!; elephant's,
by contrast tells us that, while there is only one, he owns the thing (the
butter, the room, the tusk or the tail) which we're trying to take away from
him, while elephants' tells us that our
objective belongs to a whole bunch (consisting of at least two, but quite
possibly way more) of whatever it is that one of them is.
Similarly,
in the sentence, "there's a tiger over there," the "real world
definition" of "tiger" may be extremely important. But in the sentence "there's tigers over
there, the morphemic definition (whatever a "tiger" is, now there's
two or more) may actually be more important, as in the slightly expanded
sentence, "I have exactly one
unerringly accurate tiger-stopping tigerbullet in my tigergun, but there's tiger-s over there."
The
reason all of this is so relevant to medical terminology is that in direct
contrast to the kind of definition I have been presenting, in which we as it
were "listen to" what the word is as it were "telling us about
itself," the typical medical word in your medical dictionary is generally
"defined" in a completely different way. Specifially, when a complex word names a
diagnosis, that diagnosis is often
given in the dictionary in place of a definition
of the word's meaning--in place of
"what the word tells us about itself." Similarly, when a word names a medical
procedure or treatment, the so called "definition" given is usually a
description of that procedure or treatment rather than, again, one based upon
"what the word tells us about itself."
In
other words, "noisy" words are being "defined" as if they
were the "mute" type.
Now,
these dictionary "definitions" might be perfectly appropriate for
words of the "arbitrary," "unmotivated," one-morpheme type;
but for each one of our "noisy" words we need a definition which
articulates a description of what the word names in terms of what that name itself tells about itself--a definition,
in other words, that assumes we are all grown up now and speak just as good a
Latglish as our mostly departed elders.
I agree
completely that in the realm of medical terminology, the first type of
definition, telling us what a thing is with reference only to the real world
(rather than with reference to what a word
by its meaningful parts tell us), is
the business of the Physiologist rather than of the Philologist; what a
polymorphemic word tells us about itself, on the other hand, is clearly the
business of the Philologist. But, as one
of these, I want to argue here that most Physiologists can also benefit from
the kind of definition we are are talking about.
For
example, in our present context we classicists (and our students) would report
that the well-attested word elephant-oid
tells us because it is used in a
medical context that it its meaning must be quite precise:
elephant-oid resembling
something involving elephants
That is, in the context of mastodons or mammoths, our word
would means (as it tells us) "resembling an elephant;" but because
"elephants" (whatever they are) are not a normal part of the
physiology of the average human, the medical
word we are looking at here clearly denotes something metaphorical.
By
contrast, here's what we learn from the dictionary (by proceeding from the
adjective through a cross-reference to the name of the condition the adjective
alludes to):
elephant-oid "...resembling...lymphedema
secondary to chronic
obstruction
of lymphatic vessels, with hypertrophy
of
the skin and subcutanous tissues...usually of
a
lower limb or the scrotum"
"Hyper-trophy of the skin" gives a clue, and the
last ellipsis an even clearer hint: left out is the bracketed word pachy-derma ("thick-skin"),
which evokes our beast, categorized (along with rhinos and hippos and the
horse, interestingly enough) in what is now regarded as the
"obsolete" taxonomic Order Pachy-dermat-a
by no less a 19th century eminence of Latglish (species Biological
Nomenclature) than Georges Cuvier.
And the
the cross reference I omitted is of course
elephant-oid ...resembling elephant-iasis
(which disorder, if you have ever seen a picture, pretty
clearly does have something to do with elephants!)
But I
hope you see at least two problems here.
The first is that (to repeat it, for stress) the "definition"
quoted above is not a definition at
all but a description of the
condition named by the word; the second is that, although the noun contains an
essential second part (-ias-is)
telling us that we are talking about a disease here (and so too does the
adjective in -ias-ic), the word elephant-oid manages to leave that part
out entirely! This is, of course, where
we Philologists might actually be helpful to the Physiologists. Here are the dictionary words in question,
defined as usual in terms of what the parts are telling us:
elephant-iasis the abnormal presence of
something involving elephants
elephant-ias-ic pertaining to the abnormal presence of
something involving elephants
elephant-oid <translated in the dictionary as if the word
were
*elephant-ias-oid>
*elephant-ias-oid resembling
the
abnormal presence of
something involving elephants
This
second point may seem like a quibble; but "classical" medical
terminology works because it follows patterns, and this "violation"
of a pattern not only hints that Latglish is an endangered language, it more
seriously exemplifies the predictable result of ignoring patterns when they are
available: by treating all words as if they are equally
"unmotivated," we leave ourselves little choice but to learn to
understand each and every new word in isolation--as a morpheme to be understood
and memorized without reference to the helpful patterns manifest in all of the
words actually closely related to it.
Dispense with *elephant-ias-oid
(which is not even in the dictionary as an alternate form) and you have no
choice but to memorize the picky little detail that sometimes when you think
you see an elephant it might actually
be the dread disease called elephant-iasis
instead. No big deal? No one single example of most things is (one
tiger?--no biggie...; but two?).
It's
interesting that Cuvier (wrongly) categorized horses with the more predictable
pachyderms--for although there are no tigers yet so far as I've ever heard tell
in medical terminology (but who knows?-- when I was a kid, who'd ever heard of
prions?) there are at least two horses.
Leaving the bent brain one aside for now, let's take a quick look at the
urine-horse.
The
dictionary helpfully tells us what hippo-ur-ic acid actually is in the real world:
hippo-ur-ic acid "a crystallizable acid from the
urine of domestic
animals,
occasionally found in human urine"
But my point here--my point in this blogpost--is that in our
search for the meaning of the word,
to settle for a description of that
thing in the real world which the word
names is to ignore the useful information that the word itself tell us
about itself:
hippo-ur-ic acid acid
pertaining
to
the
urine
of
horses
In the
real world, of course, most useful of all would be a "blend" of the
two styles. My own modest proposal
begins with what the word tells us, as
being most important, and follows this with an explanation providing a link to
a description of the real-world
referent:
hippo-ur-ic acid acid pertaining to the urine of
horses, or horse-urin-ary
acid;
called this because the chemical so named was
first isolated in horse urine; in fact
this acid is found in
a range
of domestic animals and sometimes in humans
My im-modest proposal is that this suggestion
provides a far more useful template for all
dictionary entries, in the case of the innumerable polymorphemic words
(attested and unattested!) of contemporary Medical Terminology.
-
o -
No comments:
Post a Comment