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You know, I recently went to the doctor, and they told me I have a brain tumor. Yeah, a brain tumor! I mean, I went in for a headache, and they drop the "T" word on me. It's like going to a restaurant, ordering a salad, and the waiter brings you a live chicken. You're like, "Hold on, I just wanted some lettuce!" So, I'm trying to wrap my head around this news, and I'm thinking, "Is this the universe's way of telling me I think too much?" Like, my brain is just trying to break up with me. It's like, "Listen, we've had some good times, but I've found someone else – a tumor. It's a growth, and I think it's time for you to grow, too."
And now, every time I forget something, I'm like, "Is it the tumor or just me being forgetful?" It's like playing a constant game of memory with my own brain, and I'm losing. The tumor has a better memory than I do. It's probably taking notes: "Day 37: He forgot where he put his car keys again. Classic.
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So, I'm at home, freaking out about this brain tumor, and what do I do? I turn to my trusted friend Google. Now, don't ever do that, especially when it comes to medical stuff. You type in "brain tumor," and suddenly, you're convinced you have every rare disease known to humanity. It's like a choose-your-own-adventure of doom. I start reading symptoms, and it's like, "Do you have a headache?" Yes. "Do you sometimes forget things?" Yes. "Do you occasionally feel tired?" Well, yeah, I'm an adult. Who doesn't feel tired?
I end up convincing myself that I have everything from a brain tumor to a rare tropical disease only found in penguins. I mean, it's Google – it's not a doctor. I should have known something was off when it suggested I treat my brain tumor with essential oils. Yeah, because lavender oil will definitely scare away that tumor.
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So, in my quest to find inner peace and evict this unwelcome tumor tenant, I decided to try yoga. I'm in the class, trying to do the downward dog, and I'm thinking, "Is this helping my brain tumor find its Zen moment?" The instructor is saying, "Breathe in positivity, breathe out negativity." And I'm here thinking, "Can I breathe out the tumor, too?" But then I realized, maybe the tumor is just misunderstood. Maybe it's doing its own form of yoga in there – the "Mindful Multiplication" pose or the "Zen Zygote" stance. Who am I to judge? Maybe it just needs some calming music and a tiny yoga mat for itself.
So, if you see me in a yoga class, just know I'm not there for inner peace. I'm there to have a chat with my brain tumor and maybe convince it to namaste its way out of my head.
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You know, they say stress isn't good for you, right? So, I'm trying to stay calm after the whole brain tumor revelation. But then I think, "What if I make the tumor uncomfortable? What if I stress it out, so it decides to leave?" So, I've developed the brain tumor diet. It's simple – just stress yourself out until the tumor can't take it anymore. I'm watching horror movies, reading my old embarrassing tweets from 2010, and doing math without a calculator. I figure if my brain tumor is anything like me, it'll be like, "I can't deal with this stress. I'm outta here!" I call it the "Mind Over Matter" diet, where the matter is the tumor, and my mind is desperately trying to kick it out.
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