I love my father. I truly do. Sometimes I just wish he’d listen to me.
Not that I actually think that is ever going to happen. It doesn’t matter that I am in my 30’s, own my own home (and am closer to paying it off than he is), have a stable career, a good marriage or a child of my own. I am still his little girl and therefore, incapable of giving anything more than a suggestion, even when it comes to my life.
In his defense, this time he wants to do something he feels is sweet and supportive. Usually that’s the case. He just doesn’t always believe that I know what I really need.
I’m having my gallbladder removed this Thursday. I am not particulary freaked out about this surgery, although I’m not exactly looking forward to having any part of my anatomy sliced open. Even if they are only little holes this time. But it’s an outpatient procedure, and I should be home in a few hours. I’ll be sore, but should be able to function….more or less.
My dad wants to come for the surgery. I know, I know, it’s sweet of him. He wants to be there to help support me. The only problem is that it’s going to be a lot of him sitting around a waiting room with me woozy and disoriented when I do get to see him. The last time I had a procedure and he came for it, I hardly remember him being there, in part, because once he found out I was ok, he took off. Later he told me that the sight of me all pale and out of it scared him and he had to get out.
At the time it annoyed me since he deals with sick and dying people daily, but now that I have a kid of my own, I kind of get it. The thought of seeing my little guy in pain or peril is thorougly frightening.
The problem here, is that I would rather him come to visit me this weekend, after I’ve had a day or two to recover, and when I might really need him. I won’t be able to pick my son up, and I know he’ll really want me to. But, if he had grandpa to play with, he’d be less likely to want to crawl all over me. Plus, he and my step-mom would be able to help my husband with things around the house. I tried to tell my dad this.
When I talked to him tonight, he asked me about my surgery times. I gave him all the details, including my weekend plans. His reply? “Well, maybe I’ll take a drive down on Thursday.” It’s like I wasn’t even having a conversation with him.
Sigh…no matter what I do, I’m still going to be 10 in his eyes.