Doctors are often criticised for failing to communicate adequately with their patients and for using medical jargon. But what about “patient speak” — those words that are nearly what we thought we meant? This collection of medical mispronunciations has been carefully recorded in a notebook (yes, one from a pharmaceutical company) kept in the top drawer of a suburban general practitioner's desk, and edited over dinner by the medical members of the family: we share them with you for the festive season.

The obituary gland seems a sad place to start. Moving down the ophagus tube, past the broccoli, a fundoapplication may help. You may recognise the psychiatric nerve, but what about the haricot veins? The introverted uterus is a little shy, but the crucial ligaments are obviously important. Platinums and playtex are everywhere. (Pituitary gland, oesophagus, bronchi, fundoplication, sciatic nerve, varicose veins, retroverted uterus, cruciate ligaments, platelets.)

Having sorted out the anatomy, the various ailments are next. There are many inflations in the vocabulary. Does the human Pavarotti virus affect the vocal chords? What organs are involved with a hippopotamus or a helicopter? (Inflammations, human papillomavirus, hypothalamus, helicobacter.)

For the surgeons, we need help with the biblical hernias and erupted spleen. It may be a little more difficult to decide which specialist to refer a fractured zygote, a utopic pregnancy, bunyips, painful anodes and the occasional Arnold Curarie. (Umbilical hernias, ruptured spleen, fractured zygoma, ectopic pregnancy, bunions, nodes, Arnold Chiari malformation.)

We could probably send the pigsty, cellutosis, cradle crop, scarytosis, and ectopic eczema to the dermatologists (if they are not at a conference in Barcelona or Melanesia), but who treats septic ulcers? (Stye, cellulitis, cradle cap, solar keratosis, atopic eczema, basal cell carcinoma, melanoma, peptic ulcers.)

The respiratory physicians, with their stereophone can move from sleep apathy to bronchial ecstasy, but should postnatal drips and reproductive coughs go to them or the obstetricians? Even more confusing are Alka Seltzer's disease, tetanus and tendonitis, which are not what they seem. The physicians could investigate grout, osteoferocious and facetious anaemia and handle a myocardial infraction. And for the lawyers — is needless dysplastic syndrome considered as incompetence or a minuscule tear? (Stethoscope, sleep apnoea, bronchiectasis, postnasal drip, productive cough, Alzheimer's disease, tinnitus, gout, osteoporosis, pernicious anaemia, myocardial infarction, dysplastic naevus, incontinence, meniscal tear.)

Then there are the things that doctors do to patients which make one wonder about informed consent. If you seduced the patient into pornography what would you expect? A tubal litigation may follow, or perhaps swifter justice with a lumbar punch. Monograms and egg, lettuce and fried tomatoes are common investigations, but who wants the Geiger counter or MI5? If the patient asked for the locum, or, worse still, for the results of their own autopsy, how would you respond? They may be better going to the physioterrorist, or just to the choir practice. (Induced, colostomy, tubal ligation, lumbar puncture, mammogram, E/LFT's, glucometer, MRI, local anaesthetic, biopsy, physiotherapist, chiropractor.)

But the best mispronunciations of all are the muddled medications. The metropolis tablets are real blocker beaters, and others prefer the condominium lifestyle, but on a bad day it may be necessary to retreat to Nimbin for a bit of peace and quiet. We could go there in the Valiant, filling up with Caltex on the way, but hopefully avoiding an argument when the map reading leads us astray. (Metoprolol, beta blockers, Coumadin, Nemdyn ointment, Valium, Caltrate, Augmentin.)

The medical profession has all sorts of alternative remedies, for Anzacs and aristocrats and perhaps even the odd pessowary. These include marzipan, genetic tablets and those well-known urinal tablets, and Laminex, but there is less demand for the repulsive tablets. (Zantac, Aristocort, pessary, temazepam, generic, Ural, Lasix, Prepulsid.)

In our spare time we could join the local music scene with a microphone, or go on a picnic with the transistor patch and the Mortein, taking Ventolin noodles and Caviar tablets for lunch. Or we could take up walking and ease the aches and pains afterwards with Catacomb ointment, Denturub or Aquarius cream. At the opposite ends of the spectrum are the libido and the celibacy tablets. Taken along with some clandestine erotics, who knows what galactic splendour may result? (Micropore, Transiderm patch, morphine, Ventolin nebules, Karvea, Kenacomb, Dencorub, aqueous cream, placebo, Celebrex, Canesten, Aurorix, Largactil, Plendil.)

On that note, now that you are completely confused by trying to be bilingual, get out the Kleenex, sit back and hope it all goes into remittance. (Nitrolingual, Keflex, remission.)