by Lem — February 26, 2013

From boobs to brains! What a transition! But hey girls, we’re talking about our best assets here. Being a little more on the smaller side of the boobie scale, I’ve never been as adventurous nipple-wise *laughs* as Amber – and certainly never got to wear one of those silly T-shirts.

Be careful what you wish for.

Be careful what you wish for.

But every time I saw a well-endowed girl with one of those, I couldn’t help laughing out loud, as the thought of boob brains, and the chance of lactating out of one’s nose, was just too much to not giggle. You see, this is my brain on overdrive. It has a strange kind of humour.

I really like my brain though. I’ve had it as long as I can remember and it has grown on me. Well, here’s the story: two weeks ago, it kind of went a bit haywire on me.

It all started with seemingly unrelated pain behind the right eye. While being no stranger to migraines, this was something new. With every eye movement, stabbing pain shot through my whole jaw. And this one day, while closing and opening the unruly eye in front of the computer in an effort to soothe the pain, I noticed that the colour grey was a little bit redder on the one, and a little bit greener on the other side. I panicked and rushed out of the office to see an ophthalmologist right away. Not being able to see grey-scales correctly, as a designer, seemed disastrous. I thought it might be conjunctivitis, and expected the doc to prescribe eye drops and send me home for a couple of days.

*Braiins~*  No! Shoo! You can't have it!

No! Shoo! You can’t have it!

My ophthalmologist made one of those “concerned doctor” faces. She was also very thorough. Too thorough for my liking. “Did you Google the symptoms?” “No. I don’t tend to Google stuff like that. Nothing good comes from it.” “Well, there’s nothing wrong with the eye as far as I can see. But it could be inflammation of the optic nerve.” Uhum. The tests continued. I could still see red as red on both eyes, and joked that I was probably too sensitive to colours and that a normal person possibly wouldn’t see any difference. But grey was still warmer/colder on each eye and it bugged me. “Do you have any numbness or tingling sensations in your arms, legs or face?”

I did. In that moment, right when she asked the question, the entire right side of my face started tingling, and I could swear my right arm felt heavier that the left. I did not say anything. My brain just was playing games with me, I decided, and made up symptoms to send me into a state of full blown panic. “Well, I want you to see a neurologist. At your age, inflammation of the optic nerve can be an early sign of something else.” Something else? Like what? “If your eyesight gets cloudy, go to the hospital immediately.” The what? My right arm started tingling. Fuck my brain. I wanted to exchange it for boobs this very moment.

I went back to work, and Googled the symptoms. Never, ever search on the internet for stuff like that without having a diagnosis. My brain wanted to join in on the fun and added a little dizzyness, just to make a point. I punished it by not sleeping that night. In fact, I did not-much-sleeping until my appointment with the neurologist. The doc, a stout man of about 1.60m had me look at a flickering chessboard for a visual evoked potential test. The damn thing made the dizzyness even worse. “Hey brain, here’s your chance at epilepsy. Interested?” “Huh? Naw. I’m busy rotating the tingling sensations all over your body.” The test came back ok. Hooray for the optic nerve! The dwarf doc made me follow his finger. “Have you ever had images taken of your head? We should do that. To rule out any masses behind the eye.” Masses? “Uhm, hello. It’s your brain. Care for some nausea?”

Not much sleeping happened until the appointment with the radiologist. Physically, I felt fine by that time. My eye got better, but the strange feeling in my arm did not subside.

“Hello. This is your brain. I know you figured out those are phantom symptoms. I want you to know that I know.”
“Well, stop it then!”
“Noo~ too much fun!” 
“Wrong end.”
“You just have to have the last word, do you?”

At the radiologist, I was in for a surprise. What I thought was an appointment for an x-ray, turned into an MRI. “Well, the letter of referral says to rule out white matter lesions. We can’t do that on an x-ray. You’re not claustrophobic, are you?” White matter… what? Claustrowhat? I really, really wanted to go home by then. Fuck the diagnosis. “This is your brain. Prepare for a claustrophobic panic attack!” “Wait, no, what… jeez!”

One for the family album.

One for the family album.

Me and my brain sat in silence in the waiting area. The doc came out to discuss the pictures. All clear. One healthy, naughty brain. From one moment to another, the phantom symptoms went away as if someone had turned off a switch. I mentioned the phantom symptoms to her that plagued me the moment I heard the ophtamologists questions.
“Anxiety,” she smiled, “can cause physical symptoms.” (I swear I could hear my brain giggling. Of course I didn’t mention that to her.) “The ophtamologists shouldn’t have scared you like she did, but in a way, she just wanted to be on the safe side. Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s wrong with your brain.”

A dose of alcohol and a good cry later I couldn’t help but wonder if a possibly lactating boob brain instead of an neurotic brainy brain would be nice for a change. Topped with nipple enhancer hair clips. Oh god, there goes my brain again. “Hey buddy!”


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  • wendy

    The brain has a mind of its own. Just when you think you really know who’s in control of what, it rebels and asserts its autonomy. Very entertaining, Lem, watching your brain watch itself!

  • Victoria

    It’s not the boobs to brain ratio that I am more concerned about. When I see a slim well-endowed (obviously she is at the prime of her life) woman walking in stiletto heels I always wonder how lucky that she has also a generous butt to balance her front.
    Some of us flat-chested girls might measure boob size with intelligence but, then again, I come out wrong on this assumption because I have well-endowed friends who are really smart, book-wise and street-wise.
    Anyway, I can relate to her when she was panicking about her symptoms. I don’t know how old she is but it’s now (for me) the constant thought that comes along as we age! And our first rate brains would be the ones to put all that worry in our minds.
    First JOB SECURITY. I can’t change or find a job mid-stride as the Philippines is an age-discriminating employer. And then HEALTH CARE – what will I do with myself if my body parts start to drop off all by itself? Maybe, I just don’t know it, but I may be suffering a minor stroke when I see floaters floating by in psychedelic patterns. And then how about our HABITS? Am I starting to turn into my mom? Are you?
    Yep, sometimes, when we put too much info overload in our brains, our minds love to play tricks on us.

  • Irma

    talking to your brain rocks…it rocks all the more the few times it shuts up and listens…it’s a fave pastime.

    i’m not too well-endowed but not flat-chested either…i’m happy with my boobs and brains but the latter gets noticed less and later than the former…my brain laments so i suggest for it to try growing nipples and it’s now seriously considering it.

    you rocked my friday, lem

  • amber

    Awesome… though if I traded my boobs for brains, I still wouldn’t be much smarter!

    I think Doctors forget the power they have over us. I had a similar experience. The first test I had to find out why we weren’t conceiving came back to suggest I had a brain tumour… I was told over the phone, while I was at work, I was devastated.

    A flight to Edmonton and an MRI later (results negative), I spoke to another Dr. who suggested follow up blood work should have been done as the levels of proclactin (the hormone that causes us to lactate and to keep us from getting pregnant while breastfeeding…. and apparently in abundance can cause a brain tumour) can fluctuate with stress or simply by having sex the night before a blood test. I don’t remember what the culprit was in my case, but the second doctor gave me another blood test and all was good.

    I would respect a Dr. who said, “Hey, there’s something off here, let’s do a follow up to see if we get some better results.” Or something similar.

    As for your brain, never trade it in for boobs… seriously, its much more interesting in its present form.