By now, everything is in the open between my mother and me: insomnia, indigestion, constipation, assorted aches and pains, hemorrhoids, prolapsed womb… And so are the prescriptions for all manner of drugs. This afternoon I sat behind a curtain and translated in a hushed voice while a doctor examined her colon and her vagina. This is how I learned about the prolapsed womb. As of ten days ago, a new pain has surfaced; a new worry is on the horizon. Tomorrow morning we will be going for an ultrasound scan of my mother’s left ovary, which seems to be inflamed. A cyst? A benign tumor? Something a bit more serious? At any rate, her secrets are no more. Now all the secrets are mine. All mine.

Addendum (December 10, 2000)

Well, not quite. Secrets are stubborn things. I just learned over lunch that my mother had two abortions before she gave birth to me. Both times she was pregnant with my father. The first time they were not married yet. They were too poor to start a family. The second time was just before World War II broke out. My parents knew the time was not right. After me, she could not get pregnant again. Even that pregnancy required medical intervention. To the best of her recollection, she was getting sugar injections of some kind to get her period back after a year and a half in a concentration camp, where she had promptly lost it.