Cerebral Somersaults

When functioning on all cylinders, my brain has a habit of collecting everything in the vicinity and piecing together disparate ideas in a reasonable conclusion. Whether that’s the sign of a genius or nutcase, I couldn’t tell you.

I highly suspect chronic illness fried my brain because, lately, it doesn’t get to thinking until I start poking it with a sticking and demanding it do something. And it’s brilliant discoveries are pathetic–laughably so.

Today, my brain did a back-flip after reading about Tips for Buying a Car with Chronic Illness or Disability, re-listening to a conversation on the repletion of rubidium in support of proper autonomic nervous system function, jamming to 90’s Oasis, conducting departmental risk reviews, and noticing a headline to an article I didn’t bother to read: It’s not just weddings – how celebrating small wins and unconventional milestones can bring joy.

Car. Driving. Disability. Hondas are great. Trace minerals. Spirograph. HPA-asix dysfunction. Pituitary tumor. Oasis. Acquiesce. Whatever. I miss the 90s. Central risk management. Unconventional milestones. Cardiac syncope. Why am I taking calcium d-glucarate for, again? I wonder if Thom Yorke will go on tour soon. Plasmalogens. Rubi- what? The newest resident of my uncle’s homeless brothel for Jesus is a married scam artist who was stealing from him. People are so naive. Humans are my biggest threat. But I like people. I’m jealous that my boyfriend got to see Oasis perform live.

After speeding down Random Road, my brain reached the realization that I haven’t driven a car in 18 months, thanks to cardiac syncope (i.e., fainting due to low blood pressure). It was only supposed to be for a few months, but I still haven’t been medically released. Do the police keep records of that stuff? Can I be pulled over for driving under the influence of an obtuse cardiovascular system?

And, thanks to the human ability to quickly acclimate, I’ve knowingly stood by without raising any objection to the infringement of my right to go places, and do things. Which, due to my dysregulated immune system and silly pandemic, I can’t go or do anyways. I don’t know, I guess it’s nice being chauffeured everywhere…

My brain went tumbling down an exceedingly dumb line of thought, I know, but it’s a start. The little hamster wheel in my brain is slowly building up a bit of momentum. Woohoo! Next stop: Slapdash Street.