one of my friends is having surgery next week. it reminded me of the one time in my life when i had surgery. for some reason i keep coming back to that memory today. you know, besides when i relayed the story to my friend. the memory of having surgery keeps popping up in my head. i am not sure why. maybe it’s because i am lethargic and my brain is even too lazy to think of something original.
so, i’ve suffered significant hearing loss in my left ear. it’s because i had a hole in my eardrum and it went undetected for a long time. i was digging in my ears all the time. i thought there were bugs in there. that’s when my mom decided to see what in the hell what was wrong. i told the doctor that an ant crawled into my ear and ate something in there. i am really not sure what caused the whole in my ear drum.
the doctor decided surgery was in order and i had to go into the hospital. this was back in the day when you had to stay a couple of days after surgery. i don’t recall if this was before or after surgery, but i was laying in the hospital bed and i spied the id bracelet on my wrist. i read it and was dismayed that my name was wrong. it said Jodi St. Martin. that isn’t me. i asked my parents why my name last name wasn’t Chromey like their’s and ericka’s last name. my mom explained to me that i had a different dad, which i didn’t understand at all, and that St. Martin used to be her last name. i though that whole spiel was lame. i kept asking them to make my last name like everyone else’s. shortly after that, my dad formally adopted me and i became Jodi Chromey. pretty rad, huh?
i’ve never met my biological father. sometimes it sorta intrigues me. there is a man roaming this earth who is responsible for my mere existence and yet i don’t know him. there is a man, who according to my mom, looks like me, talks like me and laughs like me. i gather i don’t get my incessant curiosity from him. because i cannot imagine having a child of mine around and not knowing about them. not wanting to know every little thing. i wonder if he even knows my name. strange, isn’t it?
i often time wonder if he’s a lot like me. i am not too much like my family. i love my sisters and parents to death, but we all know that i don’t quite fit in. i guess it’s one of my “things.” ‘sides being the “smart” one, i am the one who doesn’t quite fit. but they love me unconditionally, so that really doesn’t matter does it? back to the biological father. . . i wonder if he’s creative or artistic at all. i wonder if he has a passion for the written word and can be struck speechless in the face of a stunning painting. i wonder if the news makes him cry. or if certain words make him cry. i wonder if he has dreams that sometimes come true or if his nightmares keep him up at night.
of course there is the more practical side of things that i wonder to. does diabetes, breast cancer or heart disease run in his family? aren’t those things that i should know?
but, here is the part that really slays me. he lives right here in the same tiny town i do. 5.4 miles away from me. really, it’s too much to even think about. my brain could be crushed by the implications. sometimes i just wonder if maybe i don’t see him all the time at the gas station, or stand behind him in line at the grocery store. part of me tells me that i would know. that some sort of internal alarm would go off and i could tell. but really, how would i know?
so, most people ask, “why don’t you contact him?” because i am chicken. i’m scared to death of meeting him. what if he doesn’t want to meet me? what if he’s disappointed? what if he’s forgotten? but mostly i worry that he won’t like me, that he’ll think i am not so great and such a rejection would crush me. i am not strong enough to handle something like that. just thinking about it makes my hands shake and tears run down my face.
and yeah, so that’s what i’ve been thinking about all day.