When it happened it hit like an explosion. Just like BAM! Here I am! It came at the worst time, at a Tides baseball game with her family in mid-July. They were waiting to go in to their seats when her mother mentioned something about feeling kind of nauseous from the heat, after all it was mid-July. That statement made the girl realize that she too felt kind of nauseous. As they walked to their seats, the nausea suddenly worsened. She felt like she was about to pass out. Her mother guided her to a bench as her legs became like wet noodles. That feeling passed after a few minutes; it came and went like a wave. Little did they all know that it would be the first of a whirlwind almost two years.

Two months later things still bothered her stomach, though nothing topped the nausea-to almost passing out that still stained her memories. Today she was going to the doctor to see what she had to say. The family knew the doctor well; the girl did martial arts with the doctor’s two young girls. Sitting on the crinkly paper that made a noise whenever she shifted her weight, she listened to what little she could understand as her doctor explained to her mother that it seemed like acid reflux and that she would prescribe an antacid-like medicine. In the car on the boring drive home, much like the drive home from Chick-Fil-A but without the delicious food, her mother explained to her what all of the doctor said. Her mother was a nurse, so she knew what was going on better than her daughter, after all she did study this stuff. She explained that acid reflux was where the acid in the stomach comes up and burns the throat and esophagus and that the medicine, Zantac, works by reducing the amount of acid produced by the stomach or something like that. The girl kind of zoned out so she didn’t hear everything but she got the jist. She had heard of Zantac, it was on TV with the little fireman dude rushing in to relieve heartburn fast. She figured that would be what would happen for her, but that wasn’t the case. A few weeks later she was back sitting on that crinkly paper reading the various posters about diabetes waiting for her doctor again. When the doctor came in, her mother explained that the Zantac did nothing for the girl and possibly made things worse. This time the doctor prescribed the girl the other antacid, Prilosec, to see if that helped. Prilosec, her mother explained, turned off some of the things that produced acid in the stomach. She had heard of Prilosec too, though that commercial wasn’t as funny. It was just the purple pill, so she was surprised when she took her first pill and it wasn’t even purple! That was some false advertising!

She found a little relief with the Prilosec, but it wasn’t enough for her mom. Somewhere inside her mom, she knew that her daughter was not suffering from acid reflux. It had to be something else. So she scheduled an appointment with a GI specialist. The appointment came fast, and soon the two were waiting on the doctor. The girl’s little sister had seen this doctor before, so he knew the family but not the girl herself. She had heard that he worked for the Air Force, like her dad used to, so it was strange that he worked at the Navy hospital. It didn’t make sense, but not much since this started had. So there she was, sitting on the crinkly paper. She looked around the room; it was more decorated than the doctor’s offices she had been in earlier. The room had a drop tile ceiling, though she didn’t know that it was called that. There were three tiles that dropped down just slightly lower than the others. These three tiles each had three airplanes on them of varying size and color. This comforted the girl; three was always a safe number for her. He had a mobile, like the ones that babies have over their cribs, except instead of baby toys, he had various prop planes and biplanes on it. As she continued to look around, she saw a lot about poop. On one wall he had a painting, one actually on a canvas, with the seven different types of poop. She was confused by it: Why would someone put time and effort into making a painting about poop? There were many other posters about poop and other stomach stuff, but they weren’t as important to her.

When the doctor, Dr. Hollon, finally came in and introduced himself, her mother explained to him what was going on. The girl noticed two major things about this “Doctor Holland”, and one of them was not how to spell his name. She noticed that he had a slight bald spot on the back of his head, similar to the one forming on her dad’s head, and that “Dr. Holland” had the most contagious laugh ever. It swelled up in his belly and filled the room so that she and her mom couldn’t help but laugh. He asked her some questions about what was going on, and she answered them like she did all to all the others. He then decided that he wanted to run a simple test, a first since this started, to see if he could find out more from her stomach itself.

She continued to come back to “Dr. Holland’s” office as he tested her on a variety of medicines that might help. At one point she went down for a scope where, according to her little sister and dad who had both had one at some point, they shove a camera down your throat or possibly up your butt, depending on the type you need. That wasn’t very fun. When she woke up her eyes itched, but whenever she tried to scratch them someone swatted her hand away. Still there were no answers.

This sucked on many levels. One, she couldn’t eat many of the foods that she loved before all of this, her mom said they were triggers. That meant no chocolate, which sucked around Easter, or spicy foods. She couldn’t even enjoy pizza! Second, her friends at school weren’t very understanding of her condition, whatever it was. They also seemed to distance themselves from her quite a bit, which sucked because it reduced her support system. Her family was her main and biggest support. Her little sister, with whom the girl was already super close, helped keep her going.

There was a major break in late February. She went in for an MRI, and they found that her intestines were backwards! “Dr. Holland” described it when they followed up as “intestinal malrotation”. “Her large intestine was on the left side,” he explained, “With her appendix down in her pelvis and her small intestine all bunched up on the right.” He said that he’s pretty sure this was causing it, though usually it’s found when the person is a baby. He wanted her to go down for surgery to prevent a deadly side effect where her intestines literally ended up in knots. There’s a new meaning to that phrase. Her mom wanted this to get done soon; she hated seeing her baby hurt. Leading up to the surgery she met the surgeon, an older lady who wore three different watches on the inside of the same wrist. While the girl was focused on the three watches the surgeon explained what she would do and the surgery was scheduled for like two or three weeks later.

The day of the surgery soon came, and the girl had to get up way early to get to the hospital by 5 a.m. While the team of doctors prepped her for the surgery, “Dr. Holland” came in to wish her luck and made a comment about the stuffed owl sitting next to her. Soon the anesthesiologist came and hooked her up to an IV. She held her dad’s hand; she hated needles. The anesthesiologist was a nice man; he told her about his son while hooking her up. When she was ready, he told her to count to ten in her head. She was out by five.

When she woke up she was in a different room, but she didn’t know how she got there. She looked at her stuffed owl and saw that he was wearing a surgical mask and what the anesthesiologist called a “party hat”. He had three bandages over his three “incisions”, on the same places where hers were. She was hooked up to another IV, and it hurt to move her left arm a certain way because of the needle. A nurse came in, filled her and her parents in, and offered her a popsicle. According to the nurse, she was only allowed clear liquids until her stomach woke up, whatever that meant she didn’t know. Two popsicles later her grandparents, who were watching her little sister, came over to say hi and check up on her. Her sister brought some of the homework that she missed that day, along with a special surprise from her friends. Her English teacher, a nice young woman who looked exactly how California would look if it were a person: a young surfer chick with golden curls, a permanent tan, and ocean blue eyes, had made her a card. She had gotten the girl’s friends to sign it and drew a picture of the girl wearing an “I heart Poe” shirt. The teacher was passionate about Edgar Allan Poe, and she had gotten the girl hooked. Her family eventually left except for her father, who lost the game of rock paper scissors to see who had to stay with her and the extremely loud machines. They hardly got any sleep because whenever she got close to sleeping, the heart rate monitor would go crazy because her heart rate fell below fifty bpm. She did bond with the night nurse though because she wore a Captain America sleep mask. The next day she was cleared to drink solid colored liquids, so when her grandparents came they brought her a Shamrock Shake from McDonald’s. After all, the surgery was on St. Patrick’s Day! It was her first ever Shamrock Shake, and she loved it!. In the afternoon she was cleared to eat food, and left soon the hospital soon after.

She wasn’t allowed to go to school for two weeks and do P.E. for basically the rest of the year, which was fine by her, she loathed that class! She did go to the school with her father everyday to pick up her little sister. While he went to go get her sister, she went off to visit her friends and teachers. The first time she visited, everyone rejoiced because there she was! She got many hugs and was told by one friend that she needed to eat ten burritos to put some weight on her frail little body!

Almost a year had passed since her surgery when her new English teacher assigned the dreaded “12 Pieces” project/final assessment. One of the pieces was a piece about how something has changed you. Naturally, she chose to write about the whole ordeal of eighth grade, which was doing much better since the surgery. After follow-ups that seemed to be almost every week to her, she actually believed for the first time since it started that she was going to be okay. She was starting to add some of the former trigger foods back into her diet in small doses, and she was off of the millions of pills that she was prescribed back when they didn’t know.

At the date of her final assessment for her English class, she had to read one of her 12 Pieces aloud to the class. She chose her Piece #6, the one about her stomach problems. With new friends that she knew were behind her, she worked up the courage to present this to the class. She read her piece to them, without crying surprisingly though she felt her voice waver. Her knees felt like the ocean, full of waves, and she held onto the podium for fear of collapsing without it. Though she was filled with fear all the way down to her toes, she was extremely calm, like a lake on a clear day. She knew that whatever happened next she would still have her friends by her side. It was when she concluded her reading that she felt most confident. She said, “Having the possible answer to my mystery stomach pain feels amazing, but I remain cautious because I know that this, though it may seem like it is, remains uncertified.”