So I had Brain Surgery

“So I had brain surgery…”
Now, that sounds terrifying. But honestly—it wasn’t traumatic. It was enlightening. And way better than my day job.
I was diagnosed with a cerebral aneurysm behind my right eye before it had a chance to bleed. That surgery literally saved my life. And here’s how they fixed it: they ran a camera up through my leg… all the way behind my eye.
Yeah. That’s the route they chose. Up the leg, past the family jewels, through the toll booth, and straight to the brain. I didn’t know if I was having surgery or if I’d just been turned into an endoscopy amusement park.
And the doctors were so casual: “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll protect the privates on the way up.” Protect the privates?! Doc, I was kind of hoping you’d avoid them entirely. Now I’m just picturing you tiptoeing past like Indiana Jones sneaking past a temple trap.
And no romance, either. No warmup, no first date. Just, “Nice to meet you, sir. We’re threading a camera behind your eyeball today.” At least buy me dinner before you explore my back roads. Light a candle. Play some Barry White. Something!
They wheeled me in, bright lights, Vulcan doctors scanning me with tricorders like it’s Star Trek. “Captain, his frontal lobe is ready for warp speed. Installing USB-C now.”
Meanwhile, I’m lying there thinking, “Is this covered by insurance or by OnlyFans?”
And it took forever! I swear at one point they must’ve taken a wrong turn. “Uh oh, recalculating route. Make a U-turn at the pancreas.” By the time they got to my head, that camera had more frequent flyer miles than me.
But here’s the thing—every time I started to panic about that camera tour, the nurses were there. Angels in scrubs. One held my hand and said, “You’re going to be okay.” And suddenly I believed her. Like, if she said, “We’re running that camera up your leg again,” I’d be like, “Sure, sweetheart. Want me to stretch first?”
And just to prove it wasn’t that bad—I ran a half marathon shortly after. That’s right: brain surgery, camera up the leg, nurses everywhere—and then, boom, 13.1 miles. And I swear, the only thing that kept me going was the fantasy that a nurse was waiting at the finish line with a smile… and maybe some more ice chips.
The doctors fixed my brain. The camera took the scenic route. But the nurses? The nurses made me believe in heaven. And honestly—if heaven doesn’t look like a nurse’s station, with angels gliding around holding ice chips, then send me back for another camera tour.

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So I had Brain Surgery

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So I had Brain Surgery

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