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Updated: May 18, 2025
For one patient that went to a physician in Polotzk, there were ten who called in unlicensed practitioners and miracle workers. If my mother had an obstinate toothache that honored household remedies failed to relieve, she went to Dvoshe, the pious woman, who cured by means of a flint and steel, and a secret prayer pronounced as the sparks flew up.
Oi, weh! what haven't I imagined, what haven't I dreamed, what haven't I lamented! Already three letters have I sent the last one, you know, you yourself wrote for me, Hannah Hayye, dear and no answer. Lost, as if in the sea!" And after the application of a corner of her shawl to eyes and nose, Hayye Dvoshe, continuing:
Hayye Dvoshe, the wig-maker, for the eleventh time repeating herself, to my mother, still patiently attentive, thus: "Promise me, I beg you. I don't sleep nights for thinking of him.
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