A JOURNEY TO AUTISM i
(Autistic author)
"I've waited long enough, I
better go check..." Karen
says to herself. Sheldon
Plankton, her husband, left
earlier to attempt
to steal a krabby patty but he
hasn't returned.
Worried, she makes her way to the
restaurant across the street.
Meanwhile, Mr. Krabs grabbed
a fry pan and swung it at Plankton.
The sound of metal hitting flesh
echoed through the restaurant,
and Plankton crumpled to the ground.
Mr. Krabs, his eyes bulging with
triumph, looked down at the tiny,
unconscious form of his arch-nemesis.
"Gotcha, ya tiny troublemaker!" he
cackled, waving the fry pan above
his head like a trophy. The Krabby
Patty recipe remained safe, but
Plankton's not. Karen heard the thud
from the hit and went in.
Her heart skipped a beat as she
saw Plankton sprawled out on the
floor, unmoving. She rushed over.
"Plankton!" Karen gasped, her voice
trembling with fear as she knelt beside
his tiny frame. He was out cold.
She gently touched his
arm, hoping for a response, but there
was none. The fry pan lay a few
inches from his crumpled body, a silent
testament to the battle that had just
taken place.
The restaurant's usual
chaos was replaced with a tense
silence that seemed to thicken the air.
Mr. Krabs, still clutching the pan,
looked at Karen with a mix of pride
and wariness. His victory over Plankton
was clear, but he knew that this wasn't
the end of the feud between them.
Karen's eyes filled with tears as she
picked up her husband, cradling his
tiny body in her palm. His antennas
were limp, and his single eye was
closed. She clutched him tightly,
desperately.
"Wake up, Plankton," she whispered, her
voice filled with urgency as she lightly
shook. But Plankton remained
unresponsive, his tiny body as lifeless
as the seaweed that clung to the ocean
floor. A cold fear gripped Karen's heart,
turning her blood to ice. She had seen
her husband in many predicaments, but
never like this.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as
she gently cradled him, his normally
active form now still and heavy in
her hand. The Krabby Patty recipe was
the last thing on her mind; all she could
think about was Plankton and the
love they shared. The warmth of his
body was fading, and with it, her
hope.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Krabs said.
"This is just business."
Karen's gaze snapped up, anger
replacing fear. "This isn't just
business, it's personal!" she exclaimed,
her voice echoing through the restaurant.
"You can't keep doing this to him!"
Mr. Krabs took a step back, his
claws clutching the fry pan tighter.
"I didn't mean for it to go this far,"
he mumbled, his proud stance wavering.
Ignoring his words, Karen rushed
to the door, cradling Plankton in
her hand. She had to get him to the
hospital. The local doctor was known
to help all creatures, regardless of
their intentions. The Bikini Bottom
Hospital was the only
place she could think of.
The emergency room was a
flurry of activity, with fish and
crustaceans of all shapes and sizes
waiting for their turn. The
bright, sterile lights reflected off
the polished floors, and the smell of
disinfectant stung her nostrils as she
raced in. She didn't care about the
stares or the whispers that followed
them; all she cared about was
getting Plankton the help he needed.
The receptionist, a sluggish sea star,
barely looked up from her crossword puzzle.
"Name?" she drawled.
"Plankton," Karen replied, her voice
shaking with urgency. "He's been
attacked."
The sea star's eyes widened, and she
dropped her pencil. "Oh my!"
she exclaimed before hitting a
large, red button that read "Emergency."
Immediately, the doors to the back
swung open, and a team of medical
professionals rushed out.
The doctor, a stern-looking
octopus named Dr. Manowar, took
Plankton from Karen's trembling hand.
"What happened?" he asks, tentacles
moving swiftly to check for
vitals.
"Mr. Krabs...he hit him with a
fry pan," Karen managed to say
between sobs.
The doctor's expression softened,
his tentacles moving more gently.
"Bring him to room three, we'll take
care of him," he instructed the
nurse, a concerned look crossing his
face as he examined the unconscious
Plankton.
Karen followed closely, her
heart racing as the medical team
whisked Plankton away into the
depths of the hospital. The stark
white walls and the beeping of
machines filled her with dread,
but she held onto the hope that
Dr. Manowar could save him.
The doctor's tentacles
worked swiftly, hooking up monitors
and administering a series of tests.
Karen watched, her own breaths
synchronizing with the rhythmic beeps.
The hospital room was small,
the walls lined with various medical
instruments.
The sterile smell was overpowering,
but she focused on Plankton, willing
his tiny body to stir. Dr. Manowar
muttered under his breath, his
expression a mask of concentration.
"Karen," he said, turning to face her,
his tentacles stilled. "I need to run some
more tests, but it doesn't look good.
Your husband has a severe concussion
and potential internal damage."
Her heart dropped, and she felt like the
ocean had swallowed her whole.
"What...what can you do?" she asked,
desperation clinging to every word.
The doctor's expression remained
steady, his eyes never leaving hers.
"We'll do everything we can. But
you should prepare for the worst."
Karen felt a wave of nausea wash
over her. She couldn't lose
Plankton. He was her partner in
crime, her confidant, her soulmate.
"No," she
whispered, her voice barely audible.
"You can't give up on him."
The doctor nodded gravely. "I understand
how you feel, but we must be realistic.
Let's give him some time."
The nurse led Karen to a small
waiting area outside the room,
where she slumped into a chair.
The clock on the wall ticked away
the minutes, each second feeling like an
eternity. The muffled sounds of the
hospital - the beeping machines, the
rush of footsteps, the hushed whispers -
only served to amplify the deafening
silence in her heart.
"Your husband is a
miracle. The tests came back, and
his injuries are less severe than
we initially thought."
Karen's eyes widened in disbelief,
then flooded with relief. "What does
that mean?"
Dr. Manowar's tentacles unfurled
as he spoke. "It means we can treat
his injuries, but he'll need to rest
for some time. However, during
our examination, we noticed some
unusual patterns in his behavior
and brain activity."
Karen felt a sudden knot in her
stomach. "What do you mean?"
"It seems that during the impact,
Plankton's brain has undergone a
significant change. He's showing
symptoms consistent with a condition
known as acquired Autism." Dr. Manowar
explained, his tentacles folding
into a comforting gesture.
Karen felt the world spin around her.
"Autism?" she repeated, her voice
barely above a whisper. "What does
that mean for him?"
Dr. Manowar sighed, his tentacles
waving gently. "It means his
interactions and responses to his
environment may be different now.
It's permanently irreversible but you
can help by creating a calm environment."
Karen nodded, trying to digest
the information. "What can I do?"
Her voice was small, trembling.
The doctor's eyes softened. "Give him
space, patience, and support. It'll be
a journey of learning for both of you."
The doctor's words hung in the
air like a fog, thick and impenetrable.
Karen felt a weight settle in her
chest, heavier than any she had
ever known. The thought of
Plankton being different, of not
knowing how to communicate with
the person she loved most, was
almost too much to bear. But she
swallowed her fear and nodded,
determined to do whatever it took
to help him.
"Thank you, Dr. Manowar," she
whispered, her voice hoarse with
emotion. "We'll get through this."
The doctor nodded solemnly before
excusing himself to attend to other
patients. Karen was left alone with
her thoughts, the beeping of the
machines the only company.
She took Plankton's hand in hers,
feeling the coolness of his skin
against her own. "Plankton," she
whispered, her voice shaking. "You're
going to be okay." She wasn't sure if
he could hear her, but she needed
to say it. To believe it. To feel the
words in the air between them.
"I know you can't understand me
right now," she continued, her voice
barely above the steady beep of
the monitors. "But I'm here. And
I'll always be here for you."
Her eyes searched the room for
anything that might bring comfort,
but all she found was the cold
reality of hospital life.
"When you wake up," she whispered,
squeezing his hand slightly, "things
might be different. But that's
okay. We'll figure it out together."
The words sounded hollow in the
small, sterile room, but she hoped
they would reach him somehow.
As the hours passed, Karen's mind
raced with questions. How would
this change their lives? Could they
still scheme together? Would he
even remember their love for
each other? She pushed the thoughts
aside, focusing instead on the gentle
rise and fall of his chest, a sign that
he was still fighting.
Suddenly, Plankton's single eye
flitted open, looking around the
room with a dazed expression.
"Karen?" he croaked, his voice weak
and unsteady.
"Plankton!"
she exclaimed, her voice a mix of
relief and hope. He was awake!
"I'm here, my love."