Back in the 50's, people did NOT talk about issues. Everything was internalized - unhappiness, anger, resentment were all swallowed. When illustrator David Small was a boy, he felt all those repressed feelings, even though they weren't spoken. His mother's little cough, his father's absences, all spoke volumes.
He internalized his own feelings, of not feeling loved or wanted, but they manifested physically as asthma and sinus troubles, exacerbated by the smoke from the nearby factories, and his own father's smoking habit.
The treatment at the time, especially given the fact that his father was a radiologist, was x-rays. Lots of x-rays. Not that going to the hospital was anything new for David. It was a place of both familiarity and comfort, and of the worst kind of nightmares.
Later, in his early teens, David developed a growth on his neck, and eventually had surgery to remove it. The surgery did literally what life in his family had tried to do - it silenced his voice. His parents hid the truth from him, but that was nothing new. He discovered on his own that it was cancer, as he discovered the truth about other things happening in his family. And as he regained his ability to talk, therapy began to uncover the truth behind the tacit lies of his family life.
This book broke my heart, for all the unhappy lives represented by this one family. The illustrations of David's dreams and nightmares may just give ME nightmares. The 50s were NOT a golden era for America. Underneath all that conformity was simmering resentment and lost happiness. Be glad you live now.