DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 21
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
Plankton watches as the doctor
holds the film up to the light,
his eyes scanning the white
and grey image. Plankton's eye
follows, trying to make sense of
the shapes and shadows that are
his teeth. He's seen these
before, the ghosts of his mouth
laid bare for inspection.
But there's something new.
The doctor's expression is serious,
his voice careful. "Looks like
you've got some wisdom teeth who
are thinking about moving in!"
Plankton's antennae spike with
anxiety. "W-what does that mean?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
Dr. Musselman's expression is
reassuring. "It means we need to
take them out before they
cause any trouble. It's a
procedure that can be a bit
scary, but we'll make sure
you're as comfortable as possib--"
But Plankton's fear spirals out
of control. "No," he whispers,
his antennae drooping. "No more
pain." Karen's heart clenches.
"They can cause a lot of pain
if we don't, sweetie," she says,
her voice soothing. "But we'll
make sure it's as gentle as
possible. Can we just do it
today? He hasn't eaten since
yesterday, so..."
Dr. Musselman nods. "We can
schedule it for today," he says,
his voice calm. "But let's
make sure you're as comfortable
as we can first." He gestures
to the chair. "Would you like
to sit down, Plankton?"
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his body stiff with fear. But
he nods, his movements slow
and deliberate as he slides
back into the chair. Karen's
hand squeezes his, a silent
promise of support. "I'll stay
with you," she says, her voice
a warm whisper.
Dr. Musselman nods. "We'll
start with a local anesthetic,"
he says, his tone soothing.
"It'll numb the area so you
won't feel anything." He says
as he grabs a syringe filled
with a clear liquid. Plankton's
eye widens, his antennae
stilling in fear.
"Could we try
sedation, or?"
Dr. Musselman nods, his
expression sympathetic. "We can
do that," he says. "It'll make
the whole process easier." The doctor
explains the process, his words
measured and calm. Plankton's
eye widens at the mention of
sleeping through the procedure, his
body relaxing slightly. "We'll do both
cleaning and extraction all while he's
under anesthesia."
An anesthesiologist enters,
his movements calm and precise.
Plankton watches him with
a mix of fear and curiosity,
his antennae twitching. The
smell of the gas fills the
air, and Karen's grip on his
hand tightens. "It'll just
make you sleep," she whispers,
trying to soothe his nerves.
The mask is cold against
his face, the scent of the gas
strange. "Breathe," he
says. "In and out."
Plankton does as he's
told, his eye squeezed shut.
The world around him starts
to fade, the sounds of the
dental office growing
distant. His chest feels
heavy, his breaths slow and
deep. "You're doing so well,"
Karen murmurs, her voice a
constant in the swirl of
his thoughts. "I'm so proud of you."
The anesthesiologist's
gloved hand is gentle, his voice
soft. "Just a few more
breaths," he says. Plankton's
body relaxes into the chair,
his antennae drooping. The
gas fills his lungs, and the
world goes hazy around the
edges. The coldness of the mask
is the last sensation he
registers before the darkness
claims him.
Meanwhile, Karen watches
as the anesthetic takes
hold. Plankton's hand relaxes
in hers, his breaths evening
out. She feels the weight
of his fear lifting, his
body growing slack. She
kisses his forehead, whispering
words of love and reassurance
as the world slips away
from him.
Finally, he falls asleep,
his antennae still
as he starts to
snore lightly. They
clean his teeth before
extracting the wisdom
teeth, all while Plankton's
body lies limp in the chair
feeling nothing. Karen holds
his hand as they put the last
of the dissolving stitches in.
The procedure is done,
and Plankton is still asleep.
Karen's eyes are full of
relief and love as she
smiles down at him. "It's all
over," she whispers. "You
did so well, baby." She
knows he probably can't
hear her yet, though.
The doctor nods. "Everything
went smoothly," he says, his
voice low. "The extractions
went well, and he should
wake up in a few minutes."
Karen's heart skips a beat,
her hand tightening around
Plankton's. "Thank you," she
whispers, her voice thick with
emotion. "Thank you for
understanding."
Dr. Musselman nods, his eyes
kind. "We're here to help,"
he says. "Now let's get him
comfortable before he wakes
up." The chair is reclined,
his mouth clean and his teeth
bare of the troublesome
wisdom teeth. Drool pools at
the corners of his mouth, a
testament to his deep slumber
and numbness.
Karen's mind races with
thoughts as they wait for
Plankton to come to. She
thinks about the seizure
and the fear in his eye. It
was a stark reminder of
his vulnerability, despite
his bravado. She makes a
mental note to be more
understanding, more
supportive.
The doctor and his
assistant carefully insert the
gauze pads with tender precision,
their movements silent
and respectful of his sleep.
Plankton's body remains still,
his snores unchanged by
the intrusion.
Karen watches with a
mixture of love and anxiety.
Her hand is a constant
comfort on his, her thumb
gently stroking the
back of his palm. She's
thankful for Dr. Musselman's
understanding, his gentle
touch.
The doctor nods. "He'll
wake up in his own time,"
he says, his eyes on the
monitors that track Plankton's
vitals. "It's normal for
autistic patients to need
some extra time to come out
of anesthesia." His words
hang in the air, a reminder
of the unique challenges
they face.
Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's still form.
The gauze in his mouth is
already stained with a faint
pink, the blood from his
extractions. She reaches
for a tissue, gently wiping
away the drool that has
started to form around
his mouth. Her heart clenches
as she sees the peaceful
expression on his face, free
from the fear that had
gripped him earlier.
The doctor checks the
monitors, his gaze flicking
between the numbers and
Plankton's sleeping form. "He's
doing well," he murmurs.