Brain Drain, Science Fiction?

I recently went to the doctor and was diagnosed with having a swollen brain. She said I needed immediate surgery to reduce the pressure. I said, “Okay”, I was all for a little pressure release valve or a brain drain. They shaved my head and strapped me in, down and around. The only things left movable were my eyes and just to irk me they stuck a mirror in front of those. With a little laser pointer the doctor showed me the ridge on which (x) marked the planned drill site. My skull was a multicolored globe stuck full of probes and wires. I looked like an angry Medusa. I was also surrounded by a dozen or so little TV screens on which I could see and hear myself think. Did you know that swear words have a different frequency than thinking of ice cream? They do. They sound similar to a car with bad valves. They got me a dirty look from the anesthesiologist.
What I hate the most about anesthesia is that when they put me under I don’t think coherently or dream. It is not exactly a blind nothingness because I could sense a dull pressure and discern a sound like rasping sandpaper. It felt as if I were swollen all over and I had contracted a new disease called brainspread. I wasn’t being drained, but buttered. Then I had to puke but nothing worked. I had no puke muscles. It was weird, but I didn’t feel bodied or disembodied. Where the hell did I go? Purgatory?
That’s about the time you start to come out of it. I felt thankful and not thankful at all. My brain was completely and utterly numbfounded. Even though I couldn’t puke I had a need to regurgitate my every thought because I couldn’t talk. My tongue was glued down. My eyelids wouldn’t move out of the way of my orbs or maybe they cut the wrong nerve and I was blind. I didn’t want to be blind. I felt like I wanted to panic, but I couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t find my panic button. They had unhooked my brain and I didn’t have a conduit to my body. Maybe they had stollen my brain. I was pretty intelligent, but then again I was also a smart ass. I wouldn’t put it past them to usurp my brain for ulterior motives. Or maybe I was just dead.
When the first wave of pain hit me I was certain I wasn’t dead. After the fifth or sixth one, I wanted to be. My whole head felt like a massive toothache. I was suffering from a bad brain abscess. I had agreed to the damn operation at the outset because I needed my brain reduced not enlarged. Maybe that was the reason I couldn’t see, my eyeballs had popped out of their sockets. On top of all that, there was some cocksucker screaming at the top of his lungs. I wanted to shove a suck in his mouth. That was when something clicked inside my battered head. I closed my mouth. The screams stopped. My eyelids finally popped open.
There was a small table beside the bed with my laptop on it. Beside it sat a pitcher of water with ice cube remnants and a green plastic cup. It dawned on me just how utterly thirsty I was. My throat was parched and sore from all the screaming. I sat up. I was expecting nausea and pain but I felt nothing but the usual tingle behind my right ear. I was going to be okay after all. I had simply had a nasty nightmare.
I poured a glass of water and soothed my parched tongue. I lifted the USB cable that was attached to my laptop and plugged it into the USB port behind my right ear. The tingling stopped. I hit download and went back to sleep.

 

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®

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Guest Artist, Rachel Hutcheson

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Today my guest artist is Rachel Hutcheson, aka blacksheeprebelgirl joining us from Nashville, Tennessee. Her website is blacksheeprebelgirl.com  She can be found on Facebook and Instagram under the same moniker. Here poetry is unique and sparkling with wit. I am happy to share some of her sparkle here today. Enjoy! Continue reading

Guest Artist, Glenys Doull of New Zealand

It is my privilege to introduce Glenys as part of our Guest Artist Series.  I believe she is an important poet of our times and for the people.  Unencumbered by the literary judgements of intellectuals, she is part of the movement to return poetry to the people–where it rightfully belongs.  I hope you take the time to enjoy her wonderful skill of imagery and verse.

These poems are used by permission and copyrighted by Glenys Doull.

 

Sweet Peas

Heavily scented warm
summer air draws in
buzzing bees eagerly
seeking precious nectar.

Sweet peas swarm up
netting on the old shed wall
a perfumed rainbow
tapestry of many hues.

Pale pastels to bright
reds, purples, pinks,
blues and lilacs paint a
masterpiece on old timbers.

Rich pickings for the
school children’s flower show. Continue reading