I remember it clearly—my surprise and growing sense of horror.
Somehow my mother being unable to speak honestly to her doctor of many years awoke in me a deeper understanding of how I was raised. She wouldn’t speak that day about all the problems and discomforts with her heart, her appetite, her body.
I had accompanied my mother, who was in her 90’s, to the doctor. He had been her doctor for years, knew her well, was a caring and careful man yet that day, when he asked how she was, she smiled with awkward shyness and replied, “Just fine.”
I realized that, I, too, wasn’t raised to speak my truth. Continue Reading