I found out, today, that I have to have (another) upper endoscopy performed to (hopefully) get to the bottom of the stomach issues I have been having for almost a decade now.
I’ve had this done a few times before, so I know the drill…since they sedate you for the procedure, so you need an escort to take you home afterwards. Years ago, I had it done near my family, so finding someone to drive me home was no problem. Now, that I’m almost 30 and living hours away from family, it’s not such an easy task. Especially on a weekday.
One friend offered to take off from work, but I couldn’t ask her to take off from a job she JUST started a couple of weeks ago (I know you’re reading this – and I appreciate your offer 😉 )
I called my Dad to tell him what was going on and before I could even ask if he’d be able to take off work he said “Just tell me when you’re having the procedure done and I’ll be there.”
Just like that.
No questions asked, no thought needed and, really, not up for discussion
(Yes, Mom – I know you would have come as well if I asked you and I love you for it)
After I hung up the phone, it got me thinking about my relationship with my Father. I know this is a blog about dating, relationships, and the many ‘youcantmakethisshitup’ moments that occur during both. But isn’t the relationship with her Father the first relationship a Woman experiences with a Man? And to be honest, I couldn’t make up a better Dad then the one I’ve got.
This post has nothing to do with the link, if any, between a woman’s relationship with her Father and her relationship with Men. I just want to take a second to talk about MY first relationship. My first true love…
One of my oldest memories with my Dad is of him teaching me how to ride a bike. Every day after school he’d take me out for a few hours and try to break me of my training wheels. He’d run along side me, holding on to the back of my seat while I rode up and down our dead-end street. Even though I knew he was holding on, I was terrified! Every bump and wobble made me feel like I’d crash to the pavement. But then I’d look down and see he shadow right beside me, and my fear would subside.
Every few minutes I’d shout “don’t let go, Daddy” and he’d always respond “I’m not going to let go I promise.”
Then I remember one day, after going up and down the street a few times, I looked down to see his shadow moving further and further away from me. I out of the corner of my eye and realized, he wasn’t holding on to my seat anymore! I had been riding for the past few feet on two wheels – all by myself!
Of course I immediately freaked out, lost my balance and my bike started wobbling all over the place. Within seconds he was right there again, steadying me and slowing me down to a stop.
I can’t remember if I was pissed at him or not (knowing me and my attitude at that age, I probably was). But I do remember the feeling I had when I rode that bike by myself for those few seconds. The feeling of doing it on my own, but knowing that he was there to catch me if I happened to fall.
As I got older, I had to BEG him to ‘let go of the seat.’ And I’ll admit, that sometimes his overprotective nature can be a bit annoying. But deep down, I love knowing that he’s the one man – the one person really – that I can ALWAYS count on; to drop any-and every-thing and come out of the shadows to be by my side in seconds whenever I need him.
I’ll be lucky if I find a man who loves me half as much as he does.