One Less Gallbladder and Missing a Taylor Swift Concert

I had spent months preparing, planning for Taylor's Nashville show. We made shirts and signs. I had done two photo shoots with my sister, post about it on all social medias. I could not contain my excitement. And August 21st, was when all my plans started to change.

That Tuesday, I got dehydrated. Which, given my past, was not uncommon. I had dealt with dehydration before and worked through it. It typically took a few hours and bottles of water and I would feel 90% better. But not this time. I still felt a dull pain in my stomach, but secretly hoped that wouldn't interfere with my weekend plans.

By Thursday, I felt fine. Like most of my pain had started to go away. I really thought that I was going to be alright. I woke up Friday and the pain had amplified. I didn't let it stop me, though. This was my last week of summer, so I tried to keep up with house chores and start packing to head back to ETSU. My dad was fishing with a friend that evening, so he was not set to be home until much later. As the day goes on, I began to get scared. It's not just a dull pain, it's almost unbearable. But, if I said something, I knew I couldn't see Taylor. Like, I was literally going to try to bear that pain until after the show then go to the hospital Sunday if I could, just so I didn't miss the show.

My dad comes home later that night to me laying in my bed. I am almost on the verge of tears at that point. He said he would take me to the hospital if I needed to go. I called Tammy, my aunt, to get her opinion. I told her my symptoms, and I started to break down. If I go to the ER, can I still go to the show? She reassured me that I could probably just get meds and be back home in time for the show. She said she would come over and check on me, though. So she met my family at our house.

Tammy and dad decided that I should probably go. I rode with dad, and she followed. We parked in front of the ER entrance. Tammy was already in the parking lot when we pulled in. We walked inside, and I did all that introduction sort of thing with the nurses. They asked what my symptoms were, etc. They put me in a room and hooked me up to an IV. This was my first ER visit in a very long time.

They did a scan to see what my issue was. We didn't get results for a while. At this point it was probably like 11:00 p.m.. Prior to the scan, we told the doctors and nurses that I was hoping to see Taylor the next day. The doctor joked that he would take my ticket if I couldn't go.

And the dreadful moment finally came.

The doctor walked back in, no hesitation, and told me that I would be missing Taylor. He told me I needed surgery. He almost smiled as he said it, too. That's what broke me. Not going to lie, I thought he was joking. A part of my held on to the idea it was just a joke, but it wasn't. He told me I was going to be moved into a room and would likely have to stay a few nights until I could get the surgery.

I got moved to a permanent room in the early hours of Saturday. Two nurses aided me at that point: one with a boisterous voice, another who was sweet and calming. The sweet nurse told me that her and her husband also loved Taylor, and kept telling every other nurse that walked in that they needed to get me in and out of here fast so I could make the show. That same nurse also loves stuffed animals, and introduced herself to my stuffed animals that I had with me on the hospital bed.

I slept a few hours that night/morning. My dad slept in the chair beside me. And "sleeping" in a hospital is almost impossible. Nurses stride in and out every couple of hours to check your vitals, do blood tests, and who knows what else. At first I couldn't even go to the bathroom without assistance, because of my IV. I was allowed to have pain meds and nausea meds, only when I asked for them. That was the one nice thing about hospitals, though. You could just press a button and a nurse would come to you.

Saturday we didn't get any news until late afternoon that my surgery would be on Sunday. So, I spent most of Saturday scrolling through Twitter and Instagram. I ate more Jello than any human should. Oh yeah, that's another thing, too. Until I got news of when my surgery would be, I couldn't eat (real food) or drink ANYTHING. As you can imagine, not fun.

Keri was getting ready for the concert. She was still seeing Taylor Swift with Lara, Kaylie, and Jessica. She had stopped in before she had to get ready with my brother. She promised me she would video call me through the show, and she did live up to that promise.

She bought like 4 portable charges to use to make sure I could see the show, even if it was from my hospital room. She sent me numerous pictures of her with the whole crew in their seats, the opening acts, the merch lines, and even some of my friends who were there. As soon as Taylor hit the stage, my phone started to erupt in alerts from incoming Snapchat videos, pictures, and Snapchat video calls. Although the video calls froze at some points, I got to watch 80% of the show "with" her, and it was truly special. It wasn't anything like being there, but it meant so much to be able to experience that with my sister. Keri and I have seen Taylor together since the Speak Now tour.

One of my favorite moments was when Keri messaged me after one of the calls had ended and she said she's playing and old song, even after the "surprise song" had already passed. She called me again and she's playing "Tim McGraw". I was shook, to say they least. AND THEN Faith Hill and Tim McGraw joined her on stage!! Amanda Nolan also Snapchat video called me during "Long Live", and that meant everything to me that she thought of me in that moment. I cried many times that night.

Onward to Sunday. Sunday my surgery was scheduled for 8 a.m.. I don't remember much from that morning. I think I woke up like an hour before the surgery, changed gowns, and then they transferred me down to the surgery waiting room. I signed some papers, and talked with those guys who put you under the anesthesia. There was one who was an older gentleman wearing a UTK cap, and the other was a woman with a thick accent. When I looked up at the ceiling, there was a depiction of a beach on the ceiling tile. They had different images above each bed. The UTK cap man asked me if I always smile and laugh that much, and I said yes. While I was in the hospital I tried to make an effort to smile and be polite because I know how hard the whole Summit staff works, and if I could do anything to make that easier on them, I would. Once I was hooked up on anesthesia, before we even left the surgery waiting room I was out.

I woke up with blurred vision, but everything else was normal. It was surreal. I could see shapes and the outlines of people and hear voices, but everything was soft. I tried to talk to those who were taking care of me in rehab, yet I don't remember what I said. I didn't stay conscious very long,  though. Next thing I know I am back in my room, with my dad and Aunt. I stay awake for probably 30 minutes, then go back to sleep. It took about 2 hours for the meds to wear off. Afterwards, my dad let my sister know that I felt well enough to have visitors.

Little did I know, I would have a room full of loving, supportive family members and friends. Some trickled in and out. I had like 4 cups of Dr. Pepper since I could finally eat and drink again. But, at one point, there were at least 7 or 8 people in the room. And that might not sound like a lot, but I was expecting no company.

There was a sense of love and appreciation that I had not felt since my mom's funeral. For a few hours, hours that I thought would be my worst, I couldn't stop smiling or laughing. When just days before I was curled up on the bathroom floor of my house in pain, praying, "Lord, I can't do this alone". And He showed me that I was indeed, not alone.

Monday, my dad had to go back to work, and it was a very quiet day. I was hoping to be discharged Sunday, but they said they had to wait on the result of my blood tests to let me go. I got to change back into my normal clothes, and walked around the hospital room. I colored a bit in the coloring book the Redmonds gave me, texted a few people, and anxiously awaited word from my nurse that I was allowed to go. Monday was supposed to be my first day of classes, so I was a little stressed. The first day in college in just going over the syllabus, but still. Gotta make a good first impression, right? Luckily, I emailed all my professors after I felt well on Sunday. My dad brought me a laptop from home.

The surgeon's assistant came by and told me to go ahead and call my ride home. I was getting ready to be released! I got all my belongings together, along with vases of flowers and smiley face balloons that sat in the corner of the room. My grandparents showed up, specifically my grandmother came upstairs and sat with me. My last nurse of my visit removed the IV from my arm (which hurt!!!) and they asked me if I wanted to walk down rather than ride in a wheelchair. And I was like uh, yeah. I mean I felt pretty good at that point. I got my discharge papers, met my grandpa at the car, and off we were. 

We stopped at McDonald's on the way home. I got a Dr. Pepper because I was too scared to eat anything. I get inside, and am greeted by an excited doggo, Meiko. Dad was at work and all my 

siblings were at school. 

So, this blog post might not be cohesive, because I am writing it two weeks later, but I wanted to jot my thoughts down to reflect on later. 

I just want to say thank you to anyone who visited me, texted me, or called me. That's something I will never, ever forget. 

Although I missed the Taylor show, I am so blessed I was able to see her in Louisville earlier in the summer. When I bought those tickets, something spontaneously inside of me told me I needed to go. God knew. 

And now I am back at ETSU, with one less body part, but lots of wonderful memories of summer and new experiences. Here's to hoping I never had to go through that again.

Love always,

Allison