Here are the opening paragraphs of a NYT article
"When the Doctor Is in, but You Wish He Wasn't":
Joanne Wong's doctor correctly figured out what was wrong with her. But he would not tell her.
Ms. Wong, a software engineer in Sunnyvale, Calif., was having abdominal pain and nausea. Her doctor told her to have a blood test, then ushered her out of his office, ignoring her when she asked what the test was for.
"The test came back, and he said I have a virus," Ms. Wong said. "He said, 'Take this medicine for two weeks.' I asked, 'What kind of virus do I have? How did I get it?' But he just said, 'Take the medicine and come back in two weeks.' "
Two weeks later, she still felt ill. "He said, 'You're fine, you're fine,' " Ms. Wong said. "I said, 'At least tell me the name of the virus.' " But, she said, "He just patted my shoulder and sent me out," telling her to return in three months for another blood test.
Perhaps, Ms. Wong said, the doctor did not want to spend the time to talk to her, or perhaps he was put off by her Chinese accent and thought she would not understand. In any event, she never returned to that doctor. When she got her medical records, she learned that she had had hepatitis A, a viral liver infection.
It's one of those anecdotes that I'm seeing everywhere now that my dissertation "Sounding Asian American" is confronting head-on accent discrimination.