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 Member since Oct '11
Working languages: German to English
Italian to English
| JacquelineCasey
Award-winning Translator
NA Local time: 04:42 BST (GMT+1)
Native in: English  | |
Freelancer,  Verified member | | Translation, Editing/proofreading | | Specializes in: | | Philosophy |
| | Wire transfer | Sample translations submitted: 1 Italian to English: Veritas University Challenge
General field: Art/Literary
Detailed field: Poetry & Literature | Source text - Italian
C’è iniezione e iniezione…
C’è quella di rigorosa memoria astronautica, quando, nei viaggi spaziali della seconda metà
del secolo scorso, l’Apollo deviava dall’orbita terrestre per immettersi in traiettoria di
raggiungimento della Luna.
C’è poi l’iniezione, volgarmente detta “puntura”, che non ha niente a che vedere con quella da
insetti (zanzare, vespe e affini) e vien praticata perlopiù sulle natiche, in caso di malattia, da
personale esperto o quasi esperto o principiante.
Dipende da cosa passa il convento.
O, meglio, passava.
E’ chiaro che non mi riferisco alla pratica medica odierna in cui uno spray sostituisce uno
sciroppo o un cerotto vale quanto una pillola.
Penso agli anni in cui ogni difficoltà di salute si risolveva a iniezioni, con tanto di siringa fatta
sterilizzare nel bollitore apposito, con il suo ago che non era affatto indolore, con il batuffolo
di cotone imbibito di alcool denaturato pronto per disinfettare la parte corporale incriminata.
In ogni famiglia c’erano donne che custodivano il segreto di come operare al meglio, col
minor dolore per il paziente, con la mano più leggera possibile.
Generalmente erano le zie vedove o zitelle che diventavano le Florence Nightingale
dell’iniezione, depositarie della conoscenza ravvicinata dei culetti di ogni età, visionati
periodicamente, alla bisogna.
Mi ricordo personalmente di una zia Leonarda, vedova della Guerra del ‘15 – ‘18, ormai
anziana e artritica che infilzava tutto il parentado quando nel periodo invernale soccombeva
all’influenza, mentre lei resisteva ai bacilli come ultimo baluardo di difesa e di protezione,
probabilmente immunizzata a ogni forma di infezione essendo stata tra coloro che erano
sopravvissuti alla Spagnola.
Alla sua morte, nella seconda metà del secolo scorso, il testimone di esperto familiare
dell’iniezione passò a mio padre, uomo disponibile, serio e compito che aveva sulle spalle una
lunga esperienza militare ed era la discrezione fatta persona.
Per mia fortuna non sono mai stata un tipo deboluccio e non ho quasi mai subito iniezioni per cui ho sempre rifuggito dal rito infermieristico e dalla voglia dell’imparare come si fa. Mia madre, invece che è curiosa di natura - anche se non lo ammetterebbe mai, anche adesso che ha superato i novant’anni – ma è anche fifona e parecchio schifiltosa, intorno ai suoi quarant’anni improvvisamente decise che era necessario che un altro in famiglia imparasse l’arte per ogni evenienza e per ogni necessità. Sotto la guida di papà si esercitò per giorni con un cuscino su come, dove e con che intensità operare, decidendo di mettere in pratica le sue conoscenze alla prima occasione, un malaugurato colpo della strega che colpì mio padre inaspettatamente. Agì come le era stato insegnato: siringa sterilizzata, ago infilato, medicinale aspirato, fuoriuscita di alcune gocce per eliminare l’aria, pizzicotto nell’immaginario quadrante superiore esterno, colpo deciso per inserire l’ago. L’urlo fu impressionante. Ma non era di mio padre che, invece, protestava: - Smettila! Non ho sentito niente!- Era lei, con l’ago della siringa infilzato nel pollice sinistro che gridava: -Aiuto! Aiutami! Mi faceva senso e ho chiuso gli occhi per non vedere: mi son centrata il dito. Ti prego, vestiti! Fa’ qualcosa!- Altri tempi, ricordi lontani che mi tornano sempre in mente quando passa la pubblicità del “Già fatto? Pic Indolor, l’ago niente male!”. | Translation - English
There are injections and injections...
There is the injection that lives on in astronautic memory, used during the space missions of the
second half of the twentieth century, when Apollo left the Earth's orbit to embark on the trajectory
that would take it to the moon.
Then there are the injections you get when you're ill, commonly known as "shots", though they have
nothing to do with drinks or weapons. These are usually administered in the buttocks, by experts,
near-experts, or beginners.
It just depends on pot luck.
Or rather, it used to.
Obviously I'm not talking about current medical practice in which sprays replace syrups, and a patch is
as good as a pill.
I'm thinking of the time when all health problems could be solved with injections, with a syringe
sterilised in a suitable kettle, with a needle that actually hurt more than just a bit, with a cotton ball
soaked in surgical spirit ready to disinfect the target area. There were certain women in every family who guarded the secret of the best way to treat a patient, with as little pain and the lightest hand possible. Usually they were widowed aunts or spinsters who became the Florence Nightingales of injections, fountains of first-hand knowledge of bottoms of all ages, which they examined from time to time when the need arose. I remember my own aunt Leonarda, a widow of the First World War, already old and arthritic by then, who gave the whole clan their shots when they succumbed to flu in the winter, while she herself, the last bastion of defence, resisted all germ onslaughts. Surviving the Spanish flu had probably rendered her immune to any kind of infection. When she died, in the second half of last century, she passed the baton of family injection expert on to my father, a polite, helpful, serious man and a model of discretion, with a wealth of military experience behind him. Luckily for me, I've never been the sickly type, and I've hardly ever had to have an injection, so I've always shunned this medical ritual and disdained to learn how to do it. My mother, on the other hand, is curious by nature, though she'd never admit it even now she's past ninety. But she's also a worrier and a bit of a fusspot, and when she was about forty she decided that someone else in the family needed to learn the art, ready for any eventuality. Under my dad's watchful eye she practised with a cushion for days on end, learning how and where to insert the needle and how much pressure to use. She decided to put her new knowledge into practice at the first opportunity, when my father was unfortunate enough to do his back in unexpectedly. She did exactly as she'd been taught; sterilised the syringe, fitted the needle, filled the syringe, squirted out a few drops to get rid of any air, mentally divided the buttock and pinched the upper outer section, and the inserted the needle with a single, firm stroke. There was a blood-curdling yell. But it didn’t come from my father, who grumbled, "Stop that! I didn't feel a thing!" It was her, with the syringe needle sticking out of her left thumb shrieking, "Help! Help me! I felt queasy! I shut my eyes so I couldn't see and pricked my finger! Please get dressed and do something!" These distant memories of bygone times always come back to me whenever I hear someone say "Don't worry, it's just a tiny prick, it won't hurt a bit!" |
More Less | | Master's degree - University of Bath | | Years of translation experience: 1. Registered at ProZ.com: Jul 2011. Became a member: Oct 2011. | | N/A | German to English (University of Bath)
Italian to English (University of Bath)
| | N/A | | Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word, SDL TRADOS | | JacquelineCasey endorses ProZ.com's Professional Guidelines. | | About me I completed a Masters' in Interpreting and Translation last year and have since been working as a freelance translator and have translated a wide variety of texts. The quality of my translation is shown by the fact that last year I received an award for winning the Italian > English category in a UK wide translation competition. My experience teaching and running a University society has given me good organisational skills and I have also had the opportunity to carry out a work placement and a mentoring session with two translation companies, which enabled me to gain knowledge about the industry. I can offer flexible rates and working hours to suit the client. In April I will also be starting an online degree in psychology accredited by the British Psychological Society. |
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Keywords: translation, Italian, German, English, philosophy, psychology, ethics
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