Angela Pacienza with her daughter Olivia Chezzi at a Taylor Swift concert in London.Supplied
It was during rounds of vein-burning chemotherapy I decided I wanted this one, seemingly impossible escapade: to attend one of Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour shows.
I was diagnosed with breast cancer in February, 2023, just as the Eras Tour was about to kick off. My chemotherapy treatments started in June of that year.
What Taylor Swift fans can teach us about finding joy
Every two weeks, I would arrive at the hospital and be handed a pager, like the kind you get at busy restaurants that lights up and vibrates when your table is ready.
When mine buzzed, I traded my waiting room chair for a bed with an IV stand. Then, I sat for hours waiting for the IV drip to deliver its last drop and the metallic tinge on my tongue to cease.
I’m an avid reader, but I had chemo-induced cognitive impairment, a.k.a. chemo brain, which made it impossible to focus. I’d listen to an audiobook and snooze a little. Mostly I’d scroll Instagram. I’d stop on posts about the Eras Tour.
I was riveted by the narrative unfolding. The fans. The outfits. The setlist. The surprise songs. The ticket prices. The concerts in the rain. That time a fly flew into Swift’s mouth while she was at the piano. I wanted to be in that happy crowd.
I scrolled through Swiftie accounts trying to figure out how fan codes worked and which cities I could sign up for. I registered for more than a dozen including New York, Paris, Amsterdam, London and Milan. I’d then make a Google doc for each city with places to stay, museums to visit and restaurants I wanted to try. It kept my brain busy, requiring only short spurts of happy concentration.
I became obsessed with the Eras Tour. It was pure delight, completely void of negativity and the hopelessness I felt being in the hospital. Swift’s fandom became a refuge.
But not being able to attend stung. It was another disappointment in my year of missing out.
My February diagnosis led to a mastectomy in April (I followed Taylor’s Atlanta show from bed) which led to the discovery of a secondary cancer site in my lymph nodes (Nashville show) which led to four months of chemo from June to September (Pittsburgh, Minneapolis, Cincinnati, Kansas City, Denver, Seattle and many more).
Fall plans included a secondary surgery to remove the cancerous lymph nodes. I’d close 2023 with 15 rounds of radiation in December. A third, and final, surgery for breast reconstruction, would be scheduled for fall 2024.
I was bitter. The cancer had robbed me of a summer with my teenagers. A family trip to Italy, already postponed once by the pandemic and rescheduled for 2023, had to be cancelled yet again.
Cancer speeds up time, and I felt important moments with the kids were slipping away, particularly my Grade 11 daughter, who was already making plans for her dorm room at university. Trying to snag Eras tickets for the summer of 2024, which was safely months after my treatment was scheduled to end, seemed like a way to slow down time and catch up to life.
Like many hopeful fans, I lost a lottery permitting me to buy tickets to a number of concerts. Desperate, I put out a call to far-flung cousins and friends.
Sarah, a friend living in the U.K. whom I’d met at a women’s leadership program in 2018, came through with “a friend of a friend” in her mom’s group who wasn’t going to use her allotment of four tickets. I got two, at face value.
I cried. I was more excited than my daughter.
The concert was a year out but having the trip planned so far in advance kept me focused on kicking cancer’s ass. It also gave my daughter and me something to talk about that was not cancer.
A year later, we packed our friendship bracelets, tubes of glitter and the snake earrings that went with our Reputation era outfits and left for London.
Angela Pacienza with her daughter Olivia Chezzi in London.Supplied
It was pure joy, beginning from the airport line where I proudly told the customs agent why we were headed to London.
Watching my daughter easily navigate the tube showed me how grown up she was. Taking it to Wembley Stadium the night of our show, we picked up fellow fans along the way. Everyone gave each other a knowing glance or openly gushed about their outfits.
Upon exiting Wembley Stadium station, we saw fans making fast friends as they swapped bracelets. A woman stopped us, flashing us a Ziploc bag filled with bracelets and asked if we wanted to trade. One woman wore a giant white skirt and held a sign that read: “I’ve got blank space, sign your favourite song.” My daughter signed it “Dress” as I took photos. We made friends in the bathroom lineup.
Angela Pacienza's daughter, Olivia Chezzi (left) writing on a Taylor Swift concert attendee's dress in London.Supplied
There was no judgment. Fandom was unapologetic. Our adoration of Swift impenetrable. Swift-inspired outfits were praised. There was instant kinship.
The Wembley staff were joyous and welcoming despite facing 92,000 people. Security guards traded bracelets, took pictures of fans and high-fived Swifties. When we went to fill our water bottles, the staff didn’t want us to miss the opening act so took them to fill from a staff-only fountain behind closed doors.
I wanted to live in this world forever, my heart happy and full.
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