Really, I certainly do! No joke. Because where I’m going, everyone (so to speak, metaphorically) “knows” me, but I don’t know most of them. And this will be a trip to remember, I’m sure, in more ways than one.
In July, I’m taking the Amtrak Train with my three kids (alone) across the country from Virginia to Nevada. That’s a three day ride. My husband is flying out on the third day of our train trip and will be pulling in about eight hours after us coming in via the train.
It’s not the trip out that has me kind of already banging my head on a wall. Or the fact that I know for certain that every security person in ALL the casinos I may roam in to will be requesting my ID and asking if I am over 21. Blame that on my Dad’s genes of holding on to youth for way longer than seems conceptually possible.
It is the fact that everyone that knows Dad, knows me, and in turn knows about my having a transplant. And in affect, I will very likely be stared at, asked questions (even of the obscenely stupid kind), and will be having conversation after conversation of how it feels to have “someone else’s eyeball” (insert the eye-roll here).
No, I don’t mind my father updating friends that I know of in the complex. They too are kind of like an extension of his family and of mine. But gee! I’ll be getting “I have heard A LOT about you” from people at his bank, at the grocery stores that he frequents and whatnot. Makes me a bit jittery just thinking about how many strangers “know” me and of my life.
I’m going across the country to “get away from it all” on vacation. To see friends. To see my Dad and let him have time with his grandchildren. To meet up and reunite with cousins I haven’t seen in over twenty years. To take my kids and husband to see all the sights like Lake Tahoe and Virginia City. To have fun.
But I don’t want to have to re-explain myself and feel like a broken record. Especially to the lady at the teller area of the Bank, or the guy behind the store’s Customer Service Counter. Or even to my father’s doctors (if I happen to go to appointments with him while there). I’m there for enjoyment, not to give a live presentation of my biopic.
Yes, I went through a lot. It was a major ordeal. But it’s over with, and I deal with setbacks as they come, then move on. I don’t want to be placed back to square one with my operation when I go home. It’s one thing for me to explain things or answer questions in regards to close friends and my family. But I wish to not deal with strangers. Not when I’m aiming for a good time, filled with basically being left alone about my new “eyeball”. But going home means facing all of this quite potentially. Because my Dad tells his friends (not just in the neighborhood) at the store, and a few at his banking institution about what happenings are going on with me and the kids. And of course, being the proud Grandpa that he is, he shows the latest pictures he gets (as I can get them to him) to everyone he knows. That’s cool. But I’ll be honest. I’m tired of having my entire life laid out to all of Carson City, Minden and Gardnerville.
Does this make me out to be a bitch? Maybe. Am I getting too “closed off” when it comes to my Dad telling about my life, seeing as I DO blog about many things concerning me, my life and even my family? Maybe. Am I over-analyzing? I bet that’s a yes, but with good reason, I feel. But I think for me, it’s a humongous difference in MY telling of MY life and of MY story, than having my father telling every Tom, Deloris and Jim about my life and of my medical issues as they arise.