my father

So last night I did something I had been trying to bring myself to do for over 10 years. I called my biological father and spoke to him for the very first time. So awkward and yet so significant.

A little background is in order. I've know since I was a young child the specifics of how I came about in this world. Both parents were in the military. My mom was single, my father married with 2 children and, to hear my mom tell it, a bit of a smooth talker - the rest is pretty easy to figure out. When my mom figured out she was pregnant, she confronted him, asking what she should do. He was less than interested, mostly insisting that she not tell his wife, but otherwise wanting nothing more to do with her or with me. She had asked him what she should tell me when I got older and started asking, and he reportedly said "don't tell her anything about me until I'm dead."

So for about 18 years, this is all I knew of him. Married, 2 daughters, not interested in knowing me. I knew he was from Mississippi and that his name was Richard N***. I remember thinking when I was really young that he must be rich if his name was Richard - hah! I never really missed having him in my life. People would ask about who my father was, I'd say "I don't know, never met him," and it always led to a thousand questions on the whos and the whys and the hows. They would ask if it was hard or weird or what have you. It wasn't. I didn't know any different. I never missed it because I didn't know what it was to have in the first place. It would be a lie to say I never secretly envied, though. Most of my friends had very involved fathers. It always seemed like a special relationship - father and daughter.

When I was 18, I toyed with joining the Army. My mom was helping me get paperwork together one day before I went for my MEPS day. She gave me an index card with my father's name on it and his social security number - wha..??. She said she thought they might ask, and also felt I was old enough to now decide what I wanted to do with it. Turns out she had saved an old performance eval he had done (he was her supervisor) and it had his SSN on it. Within a few months, I had paid an online service to look up his address, phone number, criminal record, etc. Amazing how much info you can get with a social and $30! Nothing very interesting though.

For the last 10 years I've gone back and forth over contacting him. Do I, don't I, should I, shouldn't I? What if he rejects me? What if he denies it? Can I handle that? The most overwhelming reason why I didn't was because I knew he still had a family. I didn't really want anything from him, other than knowledge, so would it be worth it to cause possible discord in someone's family for that? Some would say yes, I leaned more towards no. Of course I wanted to know more about him, and I always had secret hopes that maybe he'd want to know me and maybe develop some sort of relationship - what little could be salvaged after almost 30 years anyway. But I would be risking learning nothing at all if I went about it the wrong way and his family was not accepting.

Enter ALS.

From day 1, doctors have been asking my family history, and many showing frustration at my only knowing one side (is that really *my* fault? no). It was then that I pulled back out the paperwork I had on him, phone in hand - ready. Couldn't bring myself to dial. My heart would pound, hands sweat, shake all over. Nope, thanks, I'll pass! Maybe later! My neurologist at Duke drew the test to see if I had the familial form of ALS and it came back negative, so I figured that I had a reprieve, for a while anyway. I could go back to my own time line and call my father when I felt emotionally ready (probably never, heh.)

I was accepted for a study at the NIH in February and, as a preliminary, had another neurological exam - basically a 3rd opinion on my diagnosis. Georgi and I were both shocked as hell to hear this neurologist say he didn't think I had ALS. He felt I was too "atypical." What he did think I had was a toss-up between 3 genetic disorders that fall under the category of distal hereditary motor neuropathy. The difference between those and ALS isn't much, and doesn't matter too much overall. Suffice to say, they were all autosomal dominant. So, I didn't pay much attention to the genetics portion in school, but it pretty much means I think that either it should be showing on my mom's side or my father's side, somewhere. Between this doctor and the genetics counselors, I was being pushed to call my father and find out - sooner rather than later.

As a side note in here - I really wish some doctors would think more before speaking sometimes. I understand the importance of finding out more about that side of my family, but it isn't as easy as just picking up the phone and saying "Hi Dad! I'm here! Tell me about you and your family!" Fuck. If it were that easy, maybe I would have had a date for a father-daughter picnic as a kid! Eh. It's just a really hard thing to do.

After much prodding from my wonderful wife, I finally did it. I called him first on Tuesday night. No answer and a generic voicemail greeting, but I left a message. Last night I decided to try again. His wife answered. Ack! Panic! I asked to speak to him, she asked who I was, I said my name, she asked where from - "it's personal." I could tell he was standing near her when I started asking him if he had been in the military, had been stationed at a base in Georgia in 1980, and had known my mother. He answered in a friendly "well, I guess so, sounds familiar," sort of way. Then I said I thought he was my father. In the same tone he said he didn't know what I was talking about. The tone changed dramatically when I said I had his SSN saved by my mother. Guess he knew I meant business. I quickly followed by saying I didn't want anything from him except medical information and why. He quickly cut me off and gave me his work cell to call him at the next day.

Guess the wife didn't know yet!

So I waited most of the day to call him, but finally did after lunch. My mom had prepared me early on to not expect much from him, so by doing so, I wasn't too let down anything. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised. He was nice, not overly, but polite. He would neither confirm not deny being my father, but essentially admitted to the real possibility and overwhelming likelihood. I apologized for disturbing things the night before and re-iterated that I didn't want to cause any trouble for him or his family. He asked about my mom and my life, and seemed pleased to know that my mom had raised me well. He lives in Mississippi, right near the Tennessee border, and works outside of Memphis. He told me about his family. He has 2 daughters, ages 32 and 39, and 4 grandchildren, a 16yo granddaughter (whom he and his wife are raising), and 3 others under the age of 5 I believe. He confided that they don't know who the father of the 16yo is, and said he can somewhat understand how that must feel for me, knowing how she feels. It meant a lot to hear that. I felt daring, as the conversation seemed to be going well, and asked if there was any chance he would ever want to find out for certain if I am indeed his daughter. He said it was too soon for him to consider that - his wife never knew anything and still doesn't. He said he had been up most of the night just trying to wrap his head around everything. Understood.

The kicker - no neuro-muscular issues whatsoever in his family. Both grandparents lived to ripe old age, his mother is still alive at 90, father died of heart disease, kids are healthy, he's healthy. Nothing close. Guess the NIH was wrong. Hello, again, ALS.

It's so weird right now. I have a voice with the name now. He said I could call him if there was anything else I wanted to know, or just wanted to talk - but only his cell during work hours. Heh. I don't know exactly what I hope for now. I want more now, I think. I want a picture, of him and my half-sisters. I want to see if there is any resemblance. I figure I'll call in a week or two and maybe he'll feel more receptive to it. I'd like to talk more, have him know more about me and me know more about him. Maybe in time.

My mom was happy to hear it went well, and pleasantly surprised. I love my mom. She never discouraged me talking to him, but always prepared me for the reality that it may not be all I want it to be. I couldn't ask for more. I honestly wouldn't change a single part of the way I was raised. It's made me exactly who I am today, and I do like me, finally. I don't know how things would have turned out if anything else was different, and honestly I wouldn't really want to know. It's just nice to know that I made the step, and that it wasn't too late to say I did it. Now he knows I'm here, and I guess the ball's in his court now.