The Day My Brain Pulled the Plug on Itself

Admin
Aug 18
2 min read

Introduction:

Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and those still trying to remember where they left their car keys: www.youtube.com/kneetiegorungo.

It was just an ordinary Tuesday—or so I thought. One moment I was sipping tea, and the next, my brain decided it had had enough of my nonsense. With no notice, no HR meeting, no “exit interview,” it simply yanked the power cord like an angry landlord evicting a freeloading tenant.

When the Brain Goes Rogue:

Brains are usually reliable. They remind us to breathe, blink, and occasionally Google whether we can eat cheese that smells like an abandoned locker room. But mine had apparently taken inspiration from a tired Wi-Fi router: it froze, sighed, and then powered off without warning.

The strangest part? Everyone around me panicked, but inside, I swear my brain was laughing. I imagine it sounded something like, “You thought you were in control? Ha! Watch this blackout sequence, human!”

Symptoms of Sudden Self-Unplugging:

Sentences became abstract art. I started saying things like, “The purple fish drives a bus” when I was trying to ask for water.
My right hand waved like it was running for president, while the left hand resigned from all responsibilities.
The family called an ambulance, while I—ever the comedian—was trying to convince them I had just invented interpretive dance.

Doctors and Their Serious Faces:

When I landed in the hospital, the doctors looked at me like I had just attempted to download Windows 95 onto a microwave. They used big words like “neurological event” while I was just thinking, “So basically, my brain tripped over its own shoelaces, right?”

One neurologist explained it was a stroke. I wanted to ask if my brain was entitled to sick leave, but apparently sarcasm isn’t part of the recovery protocol.

Recovery, or the Art of Rebooting:

Rehabilitation felt like my brain was reinstalling itself, one awkward update at a time:

Day 1: Speak? Nope.
Day 2: Speak? Yes, but only in riddles.
Day 7: Speak? Sort of—still sounded like a Windows XP startup sound.

I realized recovery was like convincing a cat to take a bath—slow, frustrating, and usually ending in a mess. But hey, at least the Wi-Fi signal in my skull came back online.

Conclusion:

So, the day my brain pulled the plug on itself wasn’t the end—it was the beginning of a comedy routine I never signed up for. Life goes on, albeit with more caution, more gratitude, and slightly weirder hand movements.

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