Meltdown/Shutdown Emojis & Text

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ & ꜱᴜʀɢᴇʀʏ “Good morning, Ms!” Ms has hypersensitivity due to autism. Even a slight touch is unbearably painful! How will Ms get through the medical exam? Ms sits on the exam table, heart racing. Ms tries to focus on the poster of a serene beach scene to calm herself. Dr. Hartwell, noticing her distress, approaches carefully. "Ms I know this can be overwhelming. But I'm here to help you. We'll take it slow, okay?" Ms nods, gripping the cold metal bar tightly. He starts with gentle explanations of each step, his voice calm and steady. Ms tries to breathe deeply, fighting the urge to retreat. The door clicks shut, a soft, final sound that echoes in the sterile room. He asks if she's ready, and she shrugs. His gloved hand touches her skin, and she tenses. "Ms, I'm sorry," Dr. Hartwell says, retreating slightly. He tries a different approach, his voice softer now. "How about I touch with less pressure?" The pain subsides a fraction, but it still remains. Dr. Hartwell then gets out a big metal speculum. Ms sees it, feels it, she’s uncontrollably shaking. "Ms," Dr. Hartwell says calmly, placing the speculum down. “Sorry. To big and hard,” Ms manages. The doctor nods thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving hers. “Let's use this instead,” he says, picking up a smaller, plastic one. It's less daunting, less cold, but the pain lingers, unbearable. Ms grips the bar tighter, her knuckles white with strain. “You're doing great,” Dr. Hartwell whispers, his voice a balm. He inserts the speculum slowly, his eyes on her face, reading every twitch, every flinch. Ms squeezes her eyes shut, body rigid with tension. The plastic touches, slides, and she gasps, but it's more unbearable than she feared. Dr. Hartwell stops immediately, his expression filled with concern. "Would you like to insert it?" He gently withdraws the tool. They’re running out of time. He looks around the room. "How about we try this?" he asks, his voice a gentle coax. "You can sit in the chair, lean back, and I'll examine you that way." Ms nods, desperation in her eyes. Dr. Hartwell adjusts the chair, bringing the foot rest closer. He tells her to put her feet up, the action itself traumatizing. He takes the smaller speculum, coated it in gel, and tells her to breathe deeply. Dr. Hartwell proceeds, his movements precise and gentle. Ms feels the pressure, the intrusion. She whimpers. The doctor's eyes meet hers, filled with understanding. "Let's try this," he suggests, picking up a small object. "I'm going to use this cotton swab instead. It's softer, less intrusive." Ms nods, the fear lessening ever so slightly. The cotton swab touches her gently. The pain does not vanish, but it's tolerable, a dull throb instead of a piercing scream. The doctor's voice remains calm, guiding her through the motions. “Good. Now for a mammogram..” Ms feels a new wave of anxiety crash over her. The machine looms in the corner, cold and unforgiving. "It’s important we check everything today," Dr. Hartwell explains, his eyes kind and patient. "But I know this is hard for you. Can you please stand up and come…” Ms, however, is still shaking, knows her hypersensitive condition will render it. The doctor notices and quickly adapts. "How about we skip the mammogram for now and discuss other options?" They talk through alternatives, like manual self-checks at home. Dr. Hartwell assures her that her health is his priority. He's willing to work with her to find the best approach, one that's comfortable and effective. Ms feels a glimmer of hope, a hint of trust and gratitude. They agree on a plan: a manual exam for today, and they'll explore further options for if needed. Her eyes light up with hope. They go over the instructions, simple steps she can do herself. Ms feels empowered by the idea of having control over the process. The doctor's empathy is palpable. They practice together, a mock exam with a plastic model. Mis's hands shake slightly as she mimics his gentle touch. He corrects her grip, praising each small victory. “Your in need of two hormone inoculations.” Dr. Hartwell says. Mis's heart sinks. She hates the sharp sting, the feeling of invasion. She looks at the needle, so thin and yet so terrifying. Her anxiety spikes, her chest constricts, making it hard to breathe. Dr. Hartwell notices and nods. "Ok let's try something different," he says, his voice calm and measured. He shows her a cream, explaining how it can help. They apply it, waiting for it to work. Finally, the time comes. Dr. Hartwell holds the needle, his grip steady and firm. His touch is swift and sure, but Ms feels the pain, a sharp reminder of her vulnerability. “One down, one more to…” But she cries. Dr. Hartwell pauses, understanding in his eyes. "It's ok," he says gently. "We can find another way." He sets it aside and pulls out a small device. "This is a topical anesthetic spray. It will numb the area so you don't feel as much." Mis nods, desperate. He applies the spray, and she feels a coldness spread where the inoculation will soon be. The doctor waits patiently, letting the numbing agent work its magic. Mis's breathing slows, the panic easing slightly. "Ready?" he asks, his voice soothing. This time, the approach is less terrifying. It’s administered with minimal discomfort. Ms winces but does not pull away. The pain is there, but it's muffled. Dr. Hartwell nods, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "Good job, Ms. You're doing so well." Ms needs a blood draw. She's not just afraid of needles, but the anticipation of pain, the cold touch of the alcohol swab, the pressure of the phlebotomist's grip...it's all too much. Not to mention the actual poking prick.. Dr. Hartwell notices and suggests a compromise. They'll use a butterfly needle, smaller and more comfortable, and a warmer to heat before drawn. The nurse prepares the equipment, movements efficient and kind. She's used to dealing with anxious patients, but Mis's fear isn’t just fear or annoyance; it’s autistic condition and hypersensitivity that Ms herself knows limited pain tolerance. The nurse wraps the warm cloth around Mis's arm, and the gentle heat seeps. Dr. Hartwell takes his place beside her, holding the small butterfly needle with a cotton ball at the tip. The nurse places the heated alcohol swab on the inner elbow, and Ms tenses. It's a gentle poke and she feels the slight sting as the nurse inserts it. But of course the sting is magnified for Ms. The nurse is quick, her hands steady with expert ease, and the whole process is over in seconds. Mis's heart is racing, her body shaking. Dr. Hartwell rubs her shoulder, his touch a reassurance. "It's over," he says softly. "You did it." Ms nods. "What can we use for next time?" The nurse asks. “X-rays, different form of the hormonal injection where no needles are involved, urinal test instead of bleeding? A bigger room? Child sedatives?” Ms murmurs. Dr. Hartwell nods, scribbling down notes. "We'll explore all those options. In the meantime, you can go home!" “Thanks..” Ms says. The next appointment, Mis goes knowing her sensitivities have not changed. This time, Dr. Hartwell meets her in the hall. Mis breaks down, despite being gratefully understanding and trying to be brave. They take her to a quieter, more private exam room, decorated with soothing colors and a soft, plush chair. "Take your time, and tell when you're ready." Ms sits down. She sees a box labeled "DIY Health Kits" and feels a spark of curiosity. Dr. Hartwell opens the box, revealing an array of tools and instructions tailored to her needs. "This is your DIY health kit," he explains, his voice calm and soothing. "You can use to perform self-exams at home. It's less invasive, and you can do it on your own terms." Ms nods, a flicker of hope in her eyes, tears of relief instead of upset tears. He hands a small container with a test strip inside. "This is for urine. It's quick and easy, and it will tell what needs to know." Ms takes the container, follows his instructions, each step a small victory. Dr. Hartwell shows her a slim device, similar to a tampon but with a small cap. "This is DIY Pap. You insert it like so, then twist to collect a sample." The vibrating ice pack is next. "For finger pricks," he says, his voice calm. Ms looks at it, a strange mix of relief and curiosity. The thought of doing it herself is less terrifying than the clinic. "Now, let's talk mammograms," Dr. Hartwell says, his gaze soft. He shows her a handheld scanning device. "This is a DIY mammogram. It uses sound waves, no radiation, and it's less invasive than the traditional. You can use it in the privacy of your home, at your own pace. It's designed to be gentle." Ms nods, the fear slightly eased. The doctor opens another compartment in the DIY health kit, revealing a pack of colonoscopy strips. "These are for checking your bowel health. They're painless and easy to use. All you do is defecate on this, will tell what’s going on down there, ok?" Ms nods. The idea of self-examination is less daunting than the traditional methods. Dr. Hartwell's empathy is a balm, his patience unyielding. He opens the last compartment. Inside, she finds a set of small patches. "These are the hormonal patches," he says, holding one up. "They're like stickers. You just apply one to your skin, and it delivers the medicine through your skin. No needles." Mis's eyes widen. It's like he's reading her mind, offering a solution tailored to her fears. Ms feels a surge of gratitude to Dr. Hartwell. His understanding and willingness to adapt to her needs make her feel seen and heard, something she's not used to, in a medical setting. For the first time, Ms feels a glimmer of hope that she can take control of without the debilitating pain nor fear of ableist microaggressions. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

✓

💉🎀🦴🏩🩹

Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vía such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system

These levels of sedation under anesthesia are defined by the American Society of Anesthesiologists (ASA) and are crucial in determining the appropriate level of sedation for each patient and procedure, ensuring patient safety and comfort throughout the perioperative period. Minimal Sedation: Also known as anxiolysis, minimal sedation involves a drug-induced state during which patients respond normally to verbal commands. Their cognitive function and physical coordination remain unaffected, and there is no compromise in airway reflexes or protective reflexes. This level of sedation is commonly used for procedures requiring minimal discomfort or anxiety relief, such as minor dental procedures or diagnostic tests. Moderate Sedation/Conscious Sedation: Moderate sedation, also referred to as conscious sedation, induces a drug-induced depression of consciousness, during which patients respond purposefully to verbal or light tactile stimulation. While maintaining spontaneous ventilation, patients may experience decreased anxiety and may have impaired cognitive function and physical coordination. However, they retain the ability to maintain their own airway and respond to commands. This level of sedation is commonly used for procedures such as endoscopic examinations, minor surgeries, or interventional radiology procedures. Deep Sedation: Deep sedation involves a drug-induced depression of consciousness, during which patients may not respond purposefully to verbal or tactile stimulation. Patients under deep sedation may require assistance in maintaining their airway, and spontaneous ventilation may be inadequate. However, patients still maintain cardiovascular function. This level of sedation is often used for procedures requiring significant analgesia and amnesia, such as major surgical procedures or certain diagnostic imaging studies. General Anesthesia: General anesthesia involves a drug-induced state during which patients are unarousable, even in the presence of painful stimulation. Patients under general anesthesia require assistance in maintaining their airway and ventilation, and cardiovascular function may be impaired. General anesthesia is characterized by a complete loss of consciousness and protective reflexes, allowing for surgical procedures to be performed without pain or awareness. This level of sedation is utilized for major surgical procedures or invasive diagnostic procedures where unconsciousness and muscle relaxation are necessary. Procedural sedation and analgesia (PSA) is a technique in which a sedating/dissociative medication is given, usually along with an analgesic medication, in order to perform non-surgical procedures on a patient. The overall goal is to induce a decreased level of consciousness while maintaining the patient's ability to breathe on their own. Airway protective reflexes are not compromised by this process

Hi, friends! I like emojicombos.com because it’s easy for me to use, being public domain. I also like to express myself through writing, as an author with Autism. So thank you Emoji combos and keep it up!

Date: 15/12/22 Support Tips: Preparation: in order to best prepare some actions might include ~ Considering your sensory needs- pack a bag with sensory aids such as headphones, earplugs, coloured glasses, stim tools, comfort items and so on to support your comfort whilst at your appointment. Considering your communication needs- perhaps take a trusted friend or family member to support with verbal communication, a hospital passport that you can share with staff or notes including scripted comments or responses that you can refer to during the appointment to support with or replace verbal speech. Wear suitable clothing that can be easily taken on and off. To minimise uncertainty, research what is involved in the procedure before attending so that you have a good idea what to expect. Write out a list of questions to avoid relying on memory during a potentially stressful experience. Plan your travel route in advance and leave plenty of time to get to your appointment to minimise anxiety and allow time to adjust to the environment upon arrival. Engage in calming, grounding techniques prior to the appointment start time. During: whilst at the appointment it may be helpful to ~ Ask for the nurse practitioner to talk you through the procedure in full before it commences, preferably with use of images or demonstrations with relevant equipment. Be open about which aspects of the experience you might struggle with as an Autistic person and request particular adjustments. Engage in grounding techniques such as mindful breathing. Hold on to a stim object that is comforting or acts as a stress reliever. Listen to music to support self-regulation. Share your concerns or worries with the nurse practitioner to invite reassurance or helpful advice. Remember your reason for attending and why it is important for you. Aftercare: following the procedure, it is a good idea to plan in some time for self-care and self-regulation, some ideas might include ~ Get yourself into a sensory safe space where things feel predictable and calm (for e.g. a quiet room with dim lighting, weighted blanket etc). Arrange to debrief/chat to a friend or another supportive person about your experience after leaving your appointment. Arrange to meet with a trusted person following the procedure to support you with getting back home or perhaps to do something you might enjoy together. Engage in your dedicated interest. Acknowledge your achievement in attending and getting through the appointment. Journal about your experience to help with emotional processing. Engage in your favourite stim to release any tension that may remain in your b0dy. Allow yourself to physically rest or sleep once back at home. Date: 15/12/22

𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟏𝟒𝟒𝟑𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟐𝟓: 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

Autism and Anxiety AUTISM Medical Visits and Autism: A Better Way Strategies to reduce anxiety during doctor visits. Posted April 6, 2019 Going for a medical visit can be a scary proposition for any child. A child on the autism spectrum has to cope with all of the usual fears associated with seeing a doctor. However, for the autistic child, there are a host of other factors that can make seeing the doctor not only unpleasant, but also downright terrifying. Some of these factors are: Waiting Waiting is unpleasant and difficult for most children to do. However, for the autistic child, waiting can result in very high distress. Children on the spectrum may struggle with the concept of time, and thus may not find comfort in being told that they will be seen in X number of minutes. Waits at the doctor's office also tend to be unpredictable, and this unpredictability often creates high anxiety for autistic kids. Abrupt Transitions Doctor's offices are busy places. When it is time to move from one part of the visit to another, there is often pressure to do it quickly, without advance notice. These types of abrupt transitions can be very unsettling for the child on the autism spectrum. Sensory Sensitivities Doctor's offices are not very sensory-friendly places: bright lighting, unfamiliar sounds, unpleasant smells, and multiple intrusions on the tactile senses (e.g., blood pressure cuff, feel of stethoscope) can be very difficult for an autistic child to process and cope with. Language Processing Being asked multiple questions—often at a quick pace—can quickly overwhelm the language-processing capacity of a child on the spectrum. The use of abstract language and unfamiliar medical terms can further contribute to anxiety. The Consequences of Health Care Anxiety Health care-related anxiety can have serious consequences. The child on the spectrum may be distressed not only during the visit, but for days (or even weeks) before. Challenging behaviors during the visit (due to anxiety, not intentional) can prevent health care providers from conducting a thorough evaluation, and may make it difficult for parents to ask questions or to express their concerns. A Better Way Fortunately, there are a number of strategies that parents and health care providers can use to substantially reduce the anxiety associated with medical visits. Ideally, parents and providers should work together in developing a plan that will target each individual child's needs. These strategies include: Bring comfort items. A favorite toy or stuffed animal can help to reduce anxiety during procedures. Use distraction. Distraction can divert attention away from fear-filled procedures. Distractions can be physical items (such as toys or video games) or the use of a familiar person that the child feels comfortable with. Do a "dry run." Visit the office and meet the staff before the first official appointment. Use clear language. Health care providers should use concrete terms and a conversational pace that is manageable. Bring communication systems. Ensure that communication systems include words and phrases which may be used during an appointment. Use a visually supported schedule. This can help the child to understand what will occur next during a visit. Use familiar staff. Ensure that staff the child feels comfortable with are available on the day of the appointment. Get paperwork done ahead of time. Office staff should send forms and other paperwork home for completion ahead of time to avoid unnecessary waiting. Address sensory sensitivities. Health care providers and office staff should address all sensory aspects of the visit and minimize unnecessary noise, smells, and other forms of stimulation. Summary Health care visits can be really scary for kids on the autism spectrum, but it doesn't have to be this way. With some minor accommodations, health care visits can become a much more tolerable experience for autistic children and their families Christopher Lynch, Ph.D., is a psychologist who specializes in stress and anxiety management for children with autism. He is the Director of the Pediatric Behavioral Medicine Department at Goryeb Children's Hospital.

ℑ𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣. 💀

✅

Key messages People have a right to expect: access to the care they need, when they need it and that appropriate reasonable adjustments are made to meet people’s individual needs. This starts from the first point of contact with a hospital. This is not just good practice – it is a legal requirement. staff communicate with them in a way that meets their needs and involves them in decisions about their care they are fully involved in their care and treatment the care and treatment they receive meets all their needs, including making reasonable adjustments where necessary and taking into account any equality characteristics such as age, race and orientation their experiences of care are not dependent on whether or not they have access to specialist teams and practitioners. However: People told us they found it difficult to access care because reasonable adjustments weren't always made. Providers need to make sure they are making appropriate reasonable adjustments to meet people’s individual needs. There is no ‘one-size-fits-all’ solution for communication. Providers need to make sure that staff have the tools and skills to enable them to communicate effectively to meet people’s individual needs. People are not being fully involved in their care and treatment. In many cases, this is because there is not enough listening, communication and involvement. Providers need to make sure that staff have enough time and skills to listen to people and their families so they understand and can meet people’s individual needs. Equality characteristics, such as age, race and orientation, risked being overshadowed by a person’s learning disability or autism because staff lacked knowledge and understanding about inequalities. Providers need to ensure that staff have appropriate training and knowledge so they can meet all of a person’s individual needs. Specialist practitioners and teams cannot hold sole responsibility for improving people’s experiences of care. Providers must make sure that all staff have up-to-date training and the right skills to care for people with a learning disability and autistic people.

Baby Moses law for abandoning newborns In Texas, if you have a newborn that you're unable to ca̢re for, you can bring your baby to a designated safe place with no questions asked. The Safe Haven law, also known as the Baby Moses law, gives parents who are unable to ca̢re for their child a safe and legal chøice to leαve their infant with an employee at a designated safe place—a hospıtal, fire station, free-standing emergency centers or emergency medical services (EMS) station. Then, your baby will receive medical ca̢re and be placed with an emergency provider. Information for Parents If you're thinking about bringing your baby to a designated Safe Haven, please read the information below: Your baby must be 60 days old or younger and unhἀrmed and safe. You may take your baby to any hospıtal, fire station, or emergency medical services (EMS) station in Texas. You need to give your baby to an employee who works at one of these safe places and tell this person that you want to leαve your baby at a Safe Haven. You may be asked by an employee for famıly or medical history to make sure that your baby receives the ca̢re they need. If you leαve your baby at a fire or EMS station, your baby may be taken to a hospıtal to receive any medical attention they need. Remember, If you leave your unhἀrmed infant at a Safe Haven, you will not be prosecuted for abandonment or neglect.

✔

Cͨaͣrͬdͩiͥoͦрⷬhͪoͦвⷡiͥaͣ (feͤaͣrͬ oͦf hͪeͤaͣrͬᴛⷮ dͩiͥs͛eͤaͣs͛eͤ oͦrͬ hͪeͤaͣrͬᴛⷮ aͣᴛⷮᴛⷮaͣcͨᴋⷦs͛). нⷩeͤmͫoͦрⷬhͪoͦвⷡiͥaͣ (feͤaͣrͬ oͦf вⷡloͦoͦdͩ). Noͦs͛oͦcͨoͦmͫeͤрⷬhͪoͦвⷡiͥaͣ (feͤaͣrͬ oͦf hͪoͦs͛рⷬiͥᴛⷮaͣls͛). Рⷬhͪaͣrͬmͫaͣcͨoͦрⷬhͪoͦвⷡiͥaͣ (feͤaͣrͬ oͦf mͫeͤdͩiͥcͨaͣᴛⷮiͥoͦn). ᴛⷮoͦmͫoͦрⷬhͪoͦвⷡiͥaͣ (feͤaͣrͬ oͦf mͫeͤdͩiͥcͨaͣl рⷬrͬoͦcͨeͤdͩuͧrͬeͤs͛ liͥᴋⷦeͤ s͛uͧrͬgeͤrͬiͥeͤs͛). ᴛⷮrͬaͣuͧmͫaͣᴛⷮoͦрⷬhͪoͦвⷡiͥaͣ (feͤaͣrͬ oͦf iͥnjuͧrͬy).

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♥]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

💉 🩹 💉 🩹 💉 🩹 💉 🩹

FIVE Senses to ground yourself 5 things you See (eyesight) 4 things you Hear (listening) 3 things you Feel (touch) 2 things you Smell (scent) 1 thing you can Taste

🌈🧠🤷🏼‍♀️

“Neurodivergent Umbrella”* Beneath the umbrella, it lists: ADHD DID & OSDD ASPD BPD NPD Dyslexia CPTSD Dyspraxia Sensory Processing Dyscalculia PTSD Dysgraphia Bipolar Autism Epilepsy OCD ABI Tic Disorders Schizophrenia Misophonia HPD Down Syndrome Synesthesia * non-exhaustive list

🔪☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ sprinkling some fairy dust on the feed for my mentally ill & disabled girlies who may be struggling or having a hard time rn ༺♡༻ /)__/) Ƹ̵̡\( ˶• ༝ •˶) /Ʒ o ( ⊃⊃) *⛥*ﾟ・。*.ੈ ♡₊˚•. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ # 🔮

𝒢𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒦𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 🍃💫 ( 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ) ♡ 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴/ 𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 / 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥? ♡ 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 / 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵? ♡ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭 + 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴? ♡ 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩? 𝘈𝘮 𝘐 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺? ♡ 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴 / 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴? ♡ 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘦 / 𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮?

Going into Hospital When you are suddenly needing to go into hospital it can be scary, and the last thing people want to do is think about what they need to take with them. For this reason we have compiled this list to help you prepare. Comfortable/ Loose fitting clothing Several pairs of underwear Thick socks Ipad/Tablet/ Ipod w/ earphones Money Sanitary pads Mobile phone and charger Food to snack on Books/ CD’s/ Magazines Toiletries/ face wipes/hairbrush Own Pillow Clothing for going home Dressing gown and slippers An overnight bag is a good idea (although you may not need this) Heating pad

Sensory inputs can be any stimuli entering through one of the sensory modalities: sight, sound, gustation, olfaction, and tactile sensations. Tactile sensations include responses to pressure and temperature. Over stimulation is the product of sensory overload. Overstimulation (OS) occurs when there is “to much” of some external stimulus or stimuli for a person's brain to process and integrate effectively. Sensory overload can be triggered by a singular event or a build up thereof. When the brain has to put all of its resources into sensory processing, it can shut off other functions, like speech, decision making and information processing. Using noise-cancelling headphones to vastly reduce external sound, which can help to stop sensory over load. Weighted sensory products, such as blankets or vests, to provide pressure and soothing proprioceptive input. Avoiding open questions – if you need their input on something, aim to use closed yes/no questions. It causes feelings of discomfort and being overwhelmed. Moving away from sources of sensory input, such as loud sounds or strong smells, can reduce these feelings. However, it is a core characteristic of autism, where individuals often experience heightened sensitivity to stimuli. It's important to note that not all autistic individuals experience overstimulation in the same way or to the same degree. Some may have a higher threshold for sensory input and be less easily overwhelmed, while others may become overstimulated even in relatively calm environments. Stimming, short for self-stimulating behaviors, is a repetitive movement or action that can include body movements, vocal noises, or sensory stimulation. It can be a way to manage excess energy, self-soothe, or cope with emotions. Stimming can also help regulate sensory input, either increasing stimulation or decreasing sensory overload. Stimming behaviors can consist of tactile, visual, auditory, vocal, proprioceptive (which pertains to limb sensing), olfactory, and vestibular stimming (which pertains to balance).

Neurodivergence* are just as physical as other disabilities. why are changes in your brain, nerves, gut, hormones, senses, and energy levels only considered physical if they're caused by literally anything else? have we considered that the separation of the mind from the rest of the body is just a way of minimizing and othering ND people? *neurodivergent refers to people with mental illnesses, developmental and intellectual disabilities, and other neurological conditions.

https://www.midol.com/about-my-period

"disabilities aren't aesthetic" Yes, but you don't need to say this under the posts of disabled people showing off cute mobility aids, decorated med organisers, a cute bed set up, the art piece that represents their disabilities, etc. Whether theyre your fellow disabled folk or especially so if you're able-bodied/neurotypical, allow disabled people freedom of expression and the little joys they can. People cope with their disabilities in diverse ways, and sometimes that means you will see a disabled person romanticizing their life, or making their aids aesthetic. Someone existing and expressing themselves, making their lives more comfortable and enjoyable, should not be seen as ”glorifying” anything. I’m not telling anyone to go make themselves disabled, nobody should take their health for granted.

ᔆᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᴮᵃˢⁱˡˡⁱˢᵃ ᴹᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵃˡ ⁶ ᴶᵃⁿᵘᵃʳʸ ᴾʳᵒᶠⁱˡᵉ ᴹᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵃˢᵗᵉˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᴶᵘˡⁱᵃⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵗʷᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ¹⸴⁰⁰⁰! ᴮᵃˢⁱˡⁱˢˢᵃ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˢⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵒᵐᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴶᵘˡⁱᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧ ᴰⁱᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵃˡ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉˢ ᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿⁱᶻᵉᵈ ᴾʳᵉ⁻ᶜᵒⁿᵍʳᵉᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ

♜♞♝♛♚♝♞♜ ♟♟♟♟♟♟♟♟ ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ♟♟♟♟♟♟♟♟ ♜♞♝♛♚♝♞♜

KATIE OF GUILDFORD HAD TSS TWICE My name is Katie and I am 15. I had been using tampons for at least a year before I got toxic shock. I had read the warning on the packet about it, but it said that the disease was rare and I thought it couldn't possibly happen to me! I hadn't read about the symptoms of Toxic Shock and wouldn't have connected it to what I had, even though they match nearly exactly The first time that I got toxic shock was on holiday in Spain in December 2008. The night before I was taken ill, my family and I played tennis and I felt fine! In the days before, I had been on my period and had been using tampons. In the early hours of the morning I was sick and fainted every time I tried to get up - I couldn't even get to the toilet by myself. After a day of this, my parents called the Spanish doctor and he referred me to the hospital, as my temperature was very high. An ambulance was called and I had to be carried downstairs by my Dad, as I couldn't walk without fainting. Once in the hospital, I was admitted to a ward. As well as the sickness and fainting, I suffered acute stomach pains, diarrhoea and I also had a rash around my eyes and all over my body that the Spanish doctors claimed was sunburn - but was actually another symptom of toxic shock. I don't remember much about the few days I spent in the ward as I was delirious from the fever, but I wasn't allowed to drink and I was so thirsty - parts of my lips and tongue were just peeling off. The pain medication was sometimes late, and I remember being in awful pain from having hiccups. My liver failed and my skin turned an orange colour - I had no idea how sick I was, as I joked about finally getting a good tan! I had an intravenous line (IV) in my arm and got phlebitis from it, so they had to change it. There weren't enough nurses in the ward and my Mum had to care for me a lot. As I couldn't get up, every time I had diarrhoea, she sorted out my bedpan and cleaned up - when I was sick as well. Finally, I was diagnosed with septicaemia which had caused liver and kidney failure (instead of just a tummy bug as they assumed when I was in the ward) and I was taken to Intensive Care. They inserted a central line and a catheter and also put me on oxygen, as my lungs were weak and had fluid in. At this point, my brother had to fly back to England by himself, as my parents stayed in Spain with me. The doctors said my condition was stable but critical, and there was a chance that I may have died. However, they changed my antibiotics, and the new ones finally started to work and my condition improved. After 4 days, I was readmitted back into the ward. I could now walk the distance to the toilet and I was starting to eat food again. On Christmas Day my parents wheeled me (I needed a wheelchair for longer distances) down to the hospital cafeteria! I spent a week in the ward, until I was well enough to fly back to England with a medical escort. When I arrived back in England, they removed my central line and discharged me from hospital. At home, I worked on getting my strength back. The skin on my legs and arms began to peel, followed by the skin on my hands and finishing with the soles of my feet. It took about a month for my skin to return back to how it was before I was ill. Also, a little bit more hair than usual would come out when I showered and combed it through; although not a large amount - my hair was quite thick anyway and you couldn't see the difference. We didn't find out what caused the sepsis in Spain - all the blood tests came back negative and we were told it was food poisoning. After being sick over Christmas, I went back to school although was off for two weeks due to severe tonsillitis exactly a month after I was ill the first time. Another month later, I was on my period again and still using tampons (as directed on the packet). I was sick continuously with a bad headache, on the Sunday, and thought I had simply picked up another bug. However, in the evening, I felt much better and decided to rest off school, but my parents went to work. Unfortunately in the morning I felt much worse and had a sore throat, and felt dizzy, although I wasn't sick. My eyes were also very red. When my mum came home from work she took my blood pressure (which was extremely low) and temperature (which peaked at 40 degrees). That evening, we went to see the GP who decided to be cautious (given my history and my Mum insisting!) and sent me to hospital. At the hospital it was the first time toxic shock was mentioned, the doctors acted really quickly, an IV was inserted and I was given lots of fluids, but my blood pressure wasn't rising, and my kidneys weren't working properly. They transferred me to Evelina's Intensive Care in London, inserting a central line so strong antibiotics could quickly reach my blood stream, along with some drugs that helped my circulation and giving me an oxygen mask as my lungs had fluid in. Here they also inserted an arterial line to continuously monitor my blood pressure. I spent a day there, and my blood pressure was soon back to normal and so was transferred back to a ward in my local hospital, where I spent a few days before I was discharged. Now, a week after being discharged for the second time, I am still recovering and have noticed some of the same after effects as last time - my skin is beginning to peel and a few more hairs than usual have been falling out. I am glad now that I know the real reason for being so sick both times - and definitely won't be using tampons again. I think that I am very lucky to still be alive - having survived toxic shock twice, and I really hope that other people will be more aware of the risks and quicker at spotting the symptoms than I was! Posted 18/3/2009

Bluescreen CobaltTheFox https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973044/chapters/83344819#workskin Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

My best friend's grandma had been fighting Alzheimer's for about 10 years, and she barely remembered her husband of 64 years. Last night, she miraculously found her husband's hospital room (he was dying of cancer) and climbed into his bed. They died together that night. Fairy tale love GMH May 3rd, 2010, 5:21 PM

https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-3ogwG6F9x0ynpXrqpi https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-l1EsZSUNXky012NIk https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-3ogwFZbHwFmHVOA0P6 https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-3ogwFGUC7OQe5Obalq https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-3ogwFFrBV7h9Y4WWmk https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-3ogwFUjTBKX0lUWXao https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-l1EsYxG6PNEBxa29G https://giphy.com/gifs/spongebob-spongebob-squarepants-season-7-26mE71BaInWXN3S6s

Hi!! firstly ik everyones gonna get mad at me for not posting symbols but please just hear me out okay anyways if you see ANY links DO NOT! click them even if you know were they go to its best to just stay safe so please PLASEE DONT CLICK LINKS there could be ppl that wana take ur info and sell it / steal it and there could be a lot of other stuff on the site!! ⚠️ (btw click frogarecool88 for me! or follow my scratch acc @cherry_da_frog_real) ⊹₊⟡⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆.☘︎ ݁˖ 𐙚 ∞♥︎

♜ ♝ ♞ ♛ ♚ ♞ ♝ ♜ ♟️ ♟️ ♟️ ♟️ ♟️ ♟️ ♟️ ♟️ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♖ ♘ ♗ ♕ ♔ ♗ ♘ ♖

♛🀧♤🃜♢⚀🃚♧🃖⚁🂠♡🃁♙⚂🂭♖🂺⚃♘🀥♗⚄🀣♕🀦⚅🀧♔🀨♚

✓⃝

ᴳᴵᴿᴸ'ᔆ ᶠᴬᵀᴬᴸ ᶠᴬᴸᴸ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴾᴼᴼᴸ ᔆʸᴰᴺᴱʸ⸴ ‧ ᵀᵘᵉˢᵈᵃʸ‧ — ᴰᵒʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ⸴ ¹²⸴ ᵒᶠ ᴾᵃᶜⁱᶠⁱᶜ ᴴⁱᵍʰʷᵃʸ⸴ ᴮᵉʳᵒʷʳᵃ⸴ ᶠᵉˡˡ ³⁰ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵃ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃᵗ ᴮᵉʳᵒʷʳᵃ ᵗᵒ⁻ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᶜˡⁱᵐᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵒˢˢ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ʳᵒᶜᵏˢ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵂᵃᵗᵉʳᶠᵃˡˡ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ³⁰ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᶠᵒˡⁱᵃᵍᵉ ᵍʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʳᵒᶜᵏˢ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᶜʰⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵖⁱᵖᵉ‧ ᶠᵃᵗᵃˡ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᴰᵒʷⁿ ᴳᵒʳᵍᵉ — — — ^ — — — ᔆʸᵈⁿᵉʸ⸴ ᴶᵘⁿᵉ ²⁹‧— ᶠᵃᵗᵃˡ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳⁱᵉˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴰᵒʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵂᵃᵗˢᶠᵒʳᵈ ⁽¹²⁾ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ³⁵ ᶠᵗ‧ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃ ᵍᵒʳᵍᵉ ᵃᵗ ᴮᵒʳᵒʷʳᵃ ᵗᵒ⁻ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘˢʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ᶜᵒᵘˢⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵒᵒᵗ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒʳᵍᵉ‧ ᴬ ˢʰᵃʳᵖ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵖᵉⁿᵉᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉʳ ʲᵃʷ ʷᵃˢ ᶠʳᵃᶜᵗᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ˢʰᵒʳᵗˡʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵐᵇᵘˡᵃⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴴᵒʳⁿˢᵇʸ ᴴᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ

✓⃣

💉 💊 💉 💊 🏩 💊 🩹 👁 🩹

💊🩹🩺💉🩸

🏩🩹🫁🎈🧸💉🔪💀🕷️🩰🫀🦠🩸⚕️🔮👁️‍🗨️

🩹🦴🤍🐁☁️

✔ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 16 hr. ago mag2170 The procedure was a success and yet, I feel like my concerns on the trial are b-being sup...suppr... The procedure was a success.

✗✓

⚕️🏩💉🚑🩻🦴🩺🩹💊

COMPUTER SENSORS vi ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * "It's like his brain turned up the volume on everything," Hanna murmurs, finally understanding the gravity of Plankton's condition. "Exactly," Karen says, her voice still low and soothing. "It's a constant barrage of sensory information for him." Hanna nods, her gaze shifting from Plankton to Karen. "What exactly happened when I...I jabbed him?" "It's like his brain took a brief vacation from reality." She pauses, collecting her thoughts. "It's a sudden break from consciousness, usually triggered by a sensory overload. In Plankton's case, it's often unexpected, like a surprise party his brain wasn't ready for." "So, when I jabbed him during the game, it was like...like I flipped a switch?" Karen's expression is a mix of sadness and patience. "More like turned up the volume on an amp that was already at max," she says. "It's like his brain took a short break from processing all the sensory input." "Oh," she whispers, her voice a soft echo of regret. "I had no idea." Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton. "It's not something that's easy to explain," she says, her voice a gentle wave. "It's like when you're trying to listen to someone in a crowded room. Sometimes the noise just gets too much, and you have to tune out for a second to keep from getting overwhelmed." Hanna nods, glued to Plankton's sleeping form. "But what happened earlier," she whispers. "When he went to his room?" Karen's gaze follows Hanna's to Plankton, understanding dawns on her face. "Oh, you noticed," she says gently. "His sensory overloads can be gradual. Sometimes it's like a pot boiling over, but other times it's more like a slow simmer that gets out of control." "What do you mean?" Karen's gaze remains on Plankton, her voice a gentle wave. "It's like earlier," she explains. "In the bedroom. He was getting overwhelmed, but it was happening so gradually, he didn't realize it." She looks at Hanna, filled with the patience of experience. "It's like when you're in a conversation and someone keeps talking louder and louder, and you don't notice until you're shouting just to be heard." Hanna nods with understanding. "So, when it's a sudden thing?" "It's like a thunderstorm," Karen says, her voice a gentle explanation. "Loud, intense, and overwhelming. But the gradual buildup is more like a slow-moving fog, thickening until it's hard to breathe." She looks at Hanna with quiet strength. "Today in the bedroom, it was like that. The sounds, the light, even the smells...it was all too much for him. But he couldn't tell you. He just had to retreat." Hanna nods reflecting her dawning comprehension. "So, when he went to his room, he was trying to get away from it all?" Karen's smile is sad but knowing. "Yes," she whispers. "His room is his sanctuary. He's got it set up just right— dim lights and all his favorite things. It's where he goes to recharge, to escape the storm when it gets too loud." Hanna nods, her gaze still on Plankton. She can see now how the simple act of playing a board game had become a tempest for him. How the jovial jab had sent him spiraling into a sensory hurricane. She feels a pang of regret for not noticing the signs sooner, for not understanding the delicate balance he maintained every day. "How do you know when touch helps him?" Hanna asks, her voice a soft inquiry. "I mean, if he can't tell you?" It's all about reading his cues," she whispers. "Sometimes, it's the tension. Other times, it's the way his pupil reacts to stimuli." She pauses, her gaze lingering on Plankton's sleeping form. "And sometimes, it's just a feeling." "How can I get better at that?" she asks, her voice earnest. "How can I support him without making things worse?" Karen's smile is warm, filled with gratitude for Hanna's willingness to learn. "It takes time," she says gently. "But the key is to pay attention to his reactions, his body language. If he flinches or withdraws, that's a sign that what you're doing isn't helping. But if he relaxes or moves closer, then you know you're on the right track." Hanna nods, still on Plankton's sleeping form. "But what if I miss the signs?" she asks, her voice a soft echo of fear. "What if I hurt him again?" Karen's hand squeezes hers reassuringly. "You're already doing so much better than most. It's just about learning to read his body language, his reactions." Hanna nods, still on Plankton. "What about when he's asleep?" she asks, her voice a soft concern. "How do you know if he's comfortable?" "It's all in the subtleties," Karen explains, her gaze shifting from Plankton to Hanna. "If he's tense, if curled tightly, then I know to be careful. But if he's relaxed, loose or reaching out...that's when I know it's safe to touch him." Hanna nods, taking in the information. She watches as Plankton starts to stir. "He's waking up," Karen whispers, her voice a soft breeze in the quiet room. She watches as Plankton twitch, his eye slowly opening. The panic from earlier is gone, replaced with a soft curiosity as he looks around the room. "Hey, buddy," Karen says, her voice a soothing lullaby. "How are you feeling?" Plankton blinks slowly, moving to rub his eye. "Tired," he murmurs, his voice a hoarse whisper. Hanna clenches at the sound, but she remains still, not wanting to disturb him. "Do you need anything?" she asks, her voice a soft echo of concern. Plankton's gaze shifts to her, his pupil dilating slightly. He seems to consider her words before shaking his head. "Just...quiet," he says, his voice a whisper in the stillness. Hanna feels a strange sense of responsibility, a need to protect him from the world that can be so unforgiving to those who are different. She watches as he blinks slowly, moving slightly as if testing the waters of consciousness. Karen's smile is a soft glow of gratitude. "Just sit with us," she says, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Your presence is enough." "I swear we were just playing a game, and..." he asks, his voice still a whisper. Hanna nods of guilt and empathy. "I know," she says. "I'm sorry." Plankton reaches out, touching her arm lightly. "It's ok," he whispers. "I just...I need time." Hanna nods, brimming with unshed tears. "I'm here," she says, her voice a soft promise. "I'll be quiet as a mouse." Plankton's grip tightens around her arm for a moment, a silent thank you, before releasing its grip. He sits up slowly, wrapping around himself like a self-made blanket. Karen watches him with a knowing gaze, her heart aching for his pain but also swelling with pride at his resilience. "Let's get you water to drink," Karen says, her voice a gentle breeze that doesn't disturb the peacefulness of the room. She rises and heads to the kitchen, leaving Hanna and Plankton in the cocoon of quiet understanding. Hanna nods, still on Plankton as he slowly unravels from his protective ball. She feels the weight of his gaze on her, a silent question, and she meets it with a smile tinged with sadness. "You're ok," she whispers, her voice a soft caress in the hushed room. The kitchen door clicks shut behind Karen, leaving Hanna and Plankton in the gentle embrace of the dim light from the fireplace. The silence stretches out like a warm blanket, comforting and safe. Plankton reaches for the blanket, pulling it tighter around his shoulders. Hanna takes a deep breath, the scent of the fireplace mixing with the faint aroma of their earlier dinner. "I'm really sorry," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. "I had no idea." Plankton nods, loosening slightly. "It's ok," he whispers. "Not your fault." The warmth from the fireplace creates a serene ambiance, the flickering light casting shadows across the room. Hanna watches as Plankton begins to move again, a sign that he's slowly coming back to the present moment. "What can I do to make it up to you?" she asks, her voice a soft thread of hope in the quiet. Plankton considers her question, his tentacles stroking the blanket in a rhythmic pattern. "Just...just be there," he murmurs, his eye closing briefly. "And maybe next time, we can find a different way to play." Hanna nods, her heart heavy with the weight of her mistake. "I'd like that," she says softly. "I'd really like that."

https://molecularautism.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13229-024-00586-5

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vii (Autistic Author) The film starts, and for a while, the only sound is the muffled dialogue and the occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but then relaxes slightly, allowing her contact. Plankton's antennae still and he turns to look at Chip, who's staring at the screen, lost in the fantasy. Karen watches them both, torn between anger and pity. She knows Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, but it's hard to see her son hurt. The movie plays on, the sound of laughter and adventure a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hangs over them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he glances at Chip, his eye flickering with regret. Karen feels the tension in the room begin to ease as Chip becomes engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to Plankton, seeking comfort without words. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the armrest of the couch tightening. The film starts, and for a while, the only sound is the muffled dialogue and the occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but then relaxes slightly, allowing her contact. Plankton's antennae still and he turns to look at Chip, who's staring at the screen, lost in the fantasy. Karen watches them both, torn between anger and pity. She knows Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, but it's hard to see her son hurt. The movie plays on, the sound of laughter and adventure a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hangs over them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he glances at Chip, his eye flickering with regret. Karen feels the tension in the room begin to ease as Chip becomes engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to Plankton, seeking comfort without words. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the armrest of the couch tightening. During a particularly suspenseful scene, Chip reaches out and grabs Plankton's arm instinctively. But the sudden touch sends Plankton spiraling. His antennae shoot up, and he starts to shake uncontrollably. "Daddy?" Chip asks, his grip tightening in concern. Plankton's body jolts, his antennae flailing wildly as his eye roll back. "Daddy!" Chip's voice is filled with fear as he clutches his father's arm tighter. Plankton's tremors only worsen, his body convulsing in a way that's both frightening and heartbreaking. Karen's realizes what's happening. "Chip, let go!" she cries. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice trembling with fear. Plankton's shaking becomes more intense, his antennae flailing as if trying to escape the confines of his own body. His mouth opens in a silent scream. Karen's knows this isn't a ‘seizure’ but something else entirely—a meltdown, a result of the overwhelming emotions he's been trying to hold in. She rushes to his side with worry. "Chip, let go of him," she says, her voice urgent. Plankton's shaking becomes more intense, his antennae thrashing about like seaweed in a storm. Karen quickly moves closer, her own hands gentle as she pries Chip's tight grip from Plankton's arm. "Chip, sweetie, let Daddy breathe," she says, her voice firm yet filled with empathy. "What's wrong with him?" he stammers, voice trembling. Karen's full of sadness as she takes Chip into her arms, gently peeling him away from Plankton's convulsing form. "It's ok, baby," she murmurs, her voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Daddy's just having a hard time right now." Her movements are swift and sure as she guides Chip away from the couch, her gaze never leaving Plankton. His body is still racked with tremors, his antennae a wild mess of emotions. She knows that touch can be overwhelming for Plankton in moments like these, so she keeps her distance, giving him the space he needs. "Why is he doing that?" Chip whispers, his voice shaky with fear. Karen's heart aches as she holds him close, trying to shield him from the harshness of the world. "It's called a meltdown, sweetie," she explains gently, her voice a soothing balm. "Sometimes, when some neurodivergent people get really upset or overwhelmed, their bodies may react like this." Karen's on Plankton, who's still trembling on the couch, his antennae a blur of distress. She knows he needs space, yet her instinct is to comfort him. With Chip in her arms, she keeps a safe distance, speaking softly so as not to add to the sensory overload. "Plankton," she says, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. "It's ok. Just breathe." Plankton's body continues to spasm, his antennae a frantic tapestry of emotions. Karen's filled with a fierce determination as she carefully approaches him, her movements slow and calculated to avoid triggering more distress. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a gentle lullaby amidst the chaos. "I'm here." Slowly, his antennae begin to still, his body calming as he registers her presence. "It's ok," she repeats. With trembling hands, she reaches out to stroke his back, the barest touch. Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his breaths coming in deep, shaky gasps. "Just breathe," she whispers again, her hand moving in a soothing rhythm. "It's ok, you're ok." Plankton's antennae slow their erratic dance, his body following suit. The tremors subside, leaving him drained and panting. "Daddy?" Chip whispers, peering over Karen's shoulder. Karen nods, still on Plankton. "He's ok now," she says softly. "It's just his brain's way of letting out all the big feelings." Chip watches, his grip on Karen tightening. "Is he going to be ok?" he asks, his voice small. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Yes," she murmurs. "Just give him a moment." The room is silent except for Plankton's uneven breathing. The colors from the TV flicker across their faces, painting them in a strange, unsettling light. Karen can feel Chip's little heart beating against hers, and she knows he's scared. "It's ok," she whispers again, her voice a beacon of calm in the storm. "Daddy just needs some time." Plankton's antennae droop, his body finally still. His eye meets hers, a silent apology in the depths of his gaze. Karen nods, her hand still on his back, offering assurance without words. "Chip," she says, her voice still low, "can you go to your room for a bit?" He nods, eyes still glued to his father, but he doesn't protest. With a heavy heart, Karen watches her son disappear down the corridor, the door clicking shut behind him. Turning her full attention to Plankton, she sits down beside him, her hand resting lightly on his back. His breathing is still ragged, his antennae barely moving. "I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice hoarse. Karen nods with understanding. "We'll talk to him," she says gently. "But first, let's make sure you're ok." Plankton's body still trembling slightly. Karen keeps her hand on his back, her touch a silent promise that she's there for him. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles, trying to soothe him. "You don't have to apologize," she says firmly. "You are who you are, and we love you for it." Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks up at her, his single eye brimming with unshed tears. "But I don't know how to be a good dad like this," he chokes out. Karen's heart breaks at his words, but she keeps her voice steady. "You're already a great dad, Plankton," she says. "You just need to find a way to show Chip that." He looks at her, hope and doubt warring in his expression. "How?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Karen takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "By teaching him," she says gently. "By letting him in, just like you're letting us in now." Plankton's antennae droop, and he nods. "I know," he says, his voice filled with regret. "But it's hard. I don't want him to see me like this." Karen squeezes his hand. "He already does," she says gently. "And he loves you anyway."

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS viii (Autistic Author) They sit in silence for a few moments, the sound of Plankton's slowing breaths filling the space. Karen's mind races with the conversation they need to have with Chip. "How do we explain it?" Plankton asks, finally breaking the silence. His antennae still, his eye looking at the floor. "We tell him the truth," Karen says firmly. "But we also remind him of all the wonderful things you do for him, all the ways you show him love." Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping further. "I know I'm not the dad he deserves," he murmurs. Karen's voice is firm, but filled with warmth. "You are the dad he needs," she corrects. "And we'll get through this together." Finally, Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice still thick with emotion. Karen nods. "I know," she says softly. "But we can't keep hiding this from him. He needs to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. "I know," he admits. "I just don't know where to start." Karen gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll start by talking to him," she says, her voice strong and reassuring. "When you're ready." They sit there for a while longer, the rhythm of Plankton's breathing slowly returning to normal. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts of how to navigate this chapter in their lives. How to help Chip understand his father's condition without scaring him or making him feel responsible. Finally, Plankton turns to her, his antennae still shaky. "What do we do now?" he asks, his voice a mix of exhaustion and fear. Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with resolve. "First," she says, "we make sure you're ok." They sit there, the only sound in the room the distant hum of the TV. Plankton's antennae are still, his eye focused on the floor. Karen's hand remains on his back, a silent promise that she's there for him. "Let's get you to bed," she says softly. "You need to rest." With her help, Plankton stands, his legs wobbly from the intense episode. Together, they make their way to their bedroom, the quiet of the house a stark contrast to the emotional upheaval they've just experienced. Once Plankton is tucked into bed, Karen sits beside him, her hand resting on his arm. "We'll get through this," she says, her voice a gentle reassurance in the stillness. "We're a family." Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of doubt, and he looks up at her, his eye searching hers for understanding. "But what if I can't?" Karen's gaze is unwavering. "You can," she says firmly. "You're strong, Plankton. And we're here to help you." Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods slowly. "Ok," he whispers. "Ok." Karen leans in, kissing his forehead. "Rest," she says. "We'll talk more tomorrow." With a nod, Plankton closes his eye, and Karen slips out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She heads to Chip's room, heavy with the weight of the conversation they need to have. Chip is lying on his bed, his small form wrapped in a blanket, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are red, and he looks up as Karen enters. "Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. "Can we talk?" Chip nods, his eyes still wet with tears. "What's wrong with Daddy?" he asks, his voice shaky. Karen takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Daddy has something called Autism, sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "It makes his brain work a bit differently from ours. Sometimes, when he's really upset or overwhelmed, his body can react in ways that might seem strange or scary." Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity, and he nods slowly. "Is that why he gets so mad?" he asks. Karen takes a moment before responding. "Sometimes, yes," she says. "It's his way of dealing with big feelings. But it's not because he's mad at you, ok?" Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But why does he get so mad?" he asks again, his voice quivering. Karen sighs, her hand stroking him. "Daddy gets overwhelmed by his feelings, and it's hard for him to express them," she explains. "Sometimes, when he can't find the right words or when things get too much, he feels like he's going to break apart. That's what we call a meltdown." Chip sniffs, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "It's like when I'm really sad and I don't want to talk?" Karen nods, her heart swelling with love for her son's empathy. "Exactly," she says. "And just like you, Daddy needs some space when that happens." Chip looks at her, his eyes serious. "But what if I want to show him my affection?" Karen smiles sadly. "You can, Chip," she says. "Just remember to be gentle, and maybe use words or gestures that aren't to overwhelming for him." Chip nods, his eyes still on the ceiling. "But what if I make it worse?" he whispers. Karen's heart clenches at his fear, and she takes his hand in hers. "Sometimes, we just need to learn new ways to show and receive love." Chip nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen leans in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "You're brave," she says, her voice filled with pride. "But what about the rock he broke?" Chip asks, his voice still shaky. Karen sighs, her eyes meeting his. "Daddy didn't mean to scare you," she says. "Sometimes, when people are upset, they do things they don't mean to. It's part of how they cope." Chip nods, his grip on her hand tightening. "But Dad now," he says again, his voice small. "We'll give him some time to rest," Karen assures him. "And tomorrow, we'll talk about it more." With that, she tucks the blanket around him and turns to leave. As she reaches the door, Chip's voice stops her. "Mom," he says, his tone tentative. "Can I go to Daddy?" Karen's heart skips a beat, and she looks back at him, her eyes filled with both concern and hope. "Do you think that's a good idea, sweetie?" Chip nods. "I want to tell him I love him," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's heart squeezes. "Ok," she says, taking a deep breath. "But remember, we need to be gentle with him right now. Let's go to his room together." They tiptoe down the hall, the house eerily quiet. Karen can feel Chip's hand in hers, small and warm and trembling slightly. When they reach the bedroom, she opens the door quietly and peeks in. Plankton is lying on his back, his antennae still, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. They approach the bed, and Karen can see the tension in Plankton's body, even in sleep. She whispers to Chip, "Remember, sweetie, just a little. And if he wakes up, tell him you love him." Chip nods solemnly, and together, they tiptoe to the bedside. Chip extends a tentative hand and gently pats Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but he doesn't wake. "I love you, Daddy," Chip whispers, his voice quivering. Karen's eyes fill with tears at the sight of her son's bravery and love. She gives Chip's hand a squeeze. "That was perfect," she says, her voice barely a murmur. They stand there for a moment, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall in the dim light of the moon peeking through the curtains. Then, with a heavy heart, Karen leads Chip back to his room. Once Chip is tucked in, she kisses his forehead and whispers, "You're a brave boy, and I'm so proud of you." His eyes, still red and swollen from crying, meet hers with a quiet understanding beyond his years.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS ix (Autistic Author) As Karen heads back to her own bed, her mind is a whirlwind of emotions. She can't help but feel a twinge of anger at the cruel hand life has dealt Plankton, making something as simple as expressing love a monumental challenge. But she quickly pushes it aside, focusing on the love she feels for her husband and the determination to help their family navigate through this. The night passes slowly, filled with restlessness and worry. When dawn breaks, Karen is already preparing breakfast, hoping that the routine might offer a semblance of normalcy. The smell of pancakes fills the house, a silent promise that today will be better. Plankton emerges from the bedroom, his antennae drooping slightly, evidence of his fatigue. He meets Karen's gaze, and she offers him a soft smile. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice gentle. He shrugs, his antennae twitching nervously. "Tired," he admits. "But ready to talk to Chip." Karen nods with a mix of concern and admiration. "I'll get him up," she says, heading to Chip's room. When they all gather at the breakfast table, the tension in the air is palpable. Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae barely moving, as if afraid to break the delicate silence. Chip looks between them, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Chip," Karen says gently, taking a deep breath. "Remember what we talked about last night? About Daddy's meltdowns?" Chip nods, his eyes darting to Plankton, who's pushing his pancake around with a syrupy look of dread. "Daddy?" he says, his voice tentative. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks up, his gaze meeting Chip's. The fear and confusion in Chip's eyes is almost too much to bear, but he steels himself. "Yes, buddy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from the previous night's outburst. "I made you this," Chip says, pushing a plate of perfectly formed pancakes towards his father. "To make you feel better." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly at the gesture, his eye focusing on the food with a hint of curiosity. "Thanks, buddy," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his heart pounding in anticipation of a reaction. "Do you like them?" he asks, hope blooming in his voice. Plankton nods, his antennae waving slightly. "They look delicious," he says, and there's a hint of a smile in his voice. He takes a bite, chewing slowly. The room holds its breath, waiting. "They're great," he finally says, and Chip's face lights up. The tension in the room eases ever so slightly, the sweetness of the maple syrup mingling with the salty scent of fear that still lingers. Karen watches the exchange, her heart swelling with pride for both of them. Plankton's effort to engage, despite his exhaustion, is clear. Chip, for his part, seems to understand the unspoken rules of their new reality. They're all learning together, stumbling in the dark but finding their way through the maze of neurodivergence. "Daddy," Chip says after a moment, his voice filled with courage. "I know you have meltdowns sometimes. But I still love you." Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his chewing slowing. He looks at his son, his single eye filled with a mix of emotions: love, regret, and a hint of fear. "I know, buddy," he whispers. "And I too." The room remains quiet, the only sound the soft clinking of silverware against plates. Plankton clears his throat. "Chip, I need to tell you something." Chip looks up, his eyes wide and expectant. "What is it, Daddy?" Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "I have something," he says slowly. "It's like... it's like my brain works differently than yours and Mommy's." Chip's eyes never leave his dad's, nodding slightly. "Ok," he says, his voice steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks down at his plate, his voice quivering. "It's called Autism," he says. "It means that sometimes, I get really, really upset, and my body reacts in ways that might scare you." Chip's expression is a blend of confusion and curiosity. "But why do you get upset, Daddy?" he asks. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he searches for the right words. "Sometimes, things that don't bother you or Mommy can feel really, really big to me," he explains. "It's like when you're scared of a thunderstorm, and the thunder feels like it's right next to you." Chip's brow furrows, and he nods. "But you're not scared of storms, Daddy," he points out. "It's different, bud," Plankton says, his antennae stilling for a moment. "It's like... sometimes my brain gets a storm inside, and I don't know how to make it stop." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "But you're ok now?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton nods, his antennae moving in a way that Karen knows means he's trying to be brave. "I'm ok," he says, his voice a little stronger. "But I might have more storms. And when I do, I might need some space." Chip looks at him seriously, his young mind working to understand. "Ok," he says, his voice a soft echo of Plankton's earlier apology. "I won't make it stormy for you, Daddy." Plankton's antennae twitch with a mix of love and relief. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "That means the world to me." Karen watches them, her heart swelling with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a new understanding. "And you know," she adds, her voice gentle, "Whenever you have questions or if you're scared, you can come to me and/or Daddy, and we'll explain as best as we can." Chip nods, his gaze still focused on Plankton. "But what if I don't know when I’m irritating you?" Plankton's antennae droop, and he sighs. "That's the hard part," he admits. "Sometimes I don't know either. But we can learn together, ok?" Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad's. "Ok," he says, his voice a little shaky. Karen pours them both a glass of juice, hoping to lighten the mood. "Why don't we talk about what you can do to help?" she suggests, handing a glass to Chip. Chip takes a sip, his eyes still on Plankton. "What can I do?" he asks, his voice earnest. Plankton's antennae twitch thoughtfully. "Well," he says, "sometimes, all I need is a little space, like when I'm in the middle of a big idea." Chip nods, remembering the times when Plankton would get so focused on his latest contraption that the slightest disturbance would send him into a tizzy. "I can do that," he says, his voice filled with determination. Plankton's antennae lift slightly. "And when you do freeze, Dad," Chip continues, his voice soft, "How can I tell if you need a hug or if you just need me to sit with you?" Karen's eyes fill with pride as she watches her son's bravery. Plankton looks at Chip, his antennae moving in a way that she knows means he's trying to find the right words. "If I freeze," he says slowly, "it's ok to just be there, to wait until I come back. I might not be able to hug you right then, but I'll know you're there." Chip nods, his grip on his juice glass tightening slightly. "What about meltdowns?" he asks, his voice quivering. Plankton's antennae droop, and he takes a deep breath. "Those are harder," he admits. "But if you can give me space and maybe some quiet, it'll help me calm down faster." Chip nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "I'll try," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Dad, what types of touch do you like and what types of affection do you dislike?” Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks at Karen for a moment, unsure of how to answer. She gives him a gentle nod of encouragement. "Well," he starts, "I'm not a big fan of surprise hugs or pats on the back, especially when I'm working or thinking hard. But a hand on my shoulder or a quiet 'I love you' is always nice." Chip nods, processing the information. "So, like when you're stressed, I should just tell you I love you?" Plankton's antennae wobble with the weight of his nod. "Yes," he says. "That's right. Just remember, buddy, everyone shows love differently." Karen's eyes are filled with hope as she watches the conversation unfold. It's not perfect, but it's a start. A start to understanding and acceptance. "And if you need more than that, Daddy?" Chip asks, his voice small but earnest. Plankton looks at him, his antennae moving in a way that Karen can't quite read. "If I need more than that," he says, "I'll tell you. Or Mommy will help you understand." Chip nods, taking another sip of his juice. "Ok," he says, his voice small. "But what if I don't know what to say?" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly, and he looks down at his plate. "That's ok, Chip," he says. "Sometimes, just sitting with me is enough."

🧠ᵗᶤʳᵉᵈ ᵇʳᴬᶤᶰ 🧠

Because sedatives can increase dopamine, some patients do wake up from anesthesia feeling good and assuming that means they’re “well-rested” but no, it can’t replace sleep. Sedation vs. sleep puts the brain in different states. During sleep, the brain moves between the slow waves of non-REM sleep and the fast waves of REM sleep. Under general anesthesia, brain rhythms are held hostage in the same state. The brain waves become so structured and regimented that they can’t transmit information, resulting in profound unconsciousness and amnesia. That’s why under full sedation, we don’t dream.

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii (Autistic author) "Now let's go to the living room and I'll go pick up a smoothie for you. Can you stay here by yourself?" He nodded, his expression slightly less tense. "I'll be back soon," she assured him, squeezing his shoulder before leaving the Chum Bucket. Just moments later, Karen's friend Hanna came for a surprise visit. She knew Karen had a husband named Plankton, but she never met him. Plankton was now back on the living room couch. "Oh, you must be Plankton!" Hanna exclaimed. Plankton's eye flitted to her, his expression unreadable. Hanna walked over to the couch, her smile wide and genuine. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, embracing him in a hug. Plankton stiffened, his eye wide with surprise. His body tensed, his mind racing to process this new sensory input. "You ok?" Hanna asked, pulling back slightly. She had noticed his reaction but didn't know the reason behind it. Plankton nodded, his eye darting around the room again. He wasn't used to such spontaneous affection, and the unexpected sensation of Hanna's arms around him had thrown him off balance. "Yes, I am Plankton," he murmured, his voice monotone. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Hanna's smile didn't waver, unaware of the turmoil within his mind. "How are you feeling today?" Plankton's gaze flicked to the ceiling, his mind racing to find the right words. "Today, feeling," he echoed, his voice still a whisper. The repetition was a comfort, a way to process the flood of sensory information that assaulted him continuously. Hanna looked at him with a puzzled expression. "You know, your wife Karen tells me you're an inventor," she said, her tone innocently curious. Plankton's eye locked onto hers, his mind racing to understand the context of her words. "Inventor," he repeated, his voice flat. It was a word he knew, but it felt foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. "Yes, inventor," Hanna said, nodding enthusiastically. "I've heard so much about your gadgets and contraptions. What are you working on these days?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room again, his mind struggling to grasp the concept of 'working'. "Gadgets, contraptions," he murmured, his voice a broken record. Hanna's expression was one of confusion, her smile beginning to fade. "Well, what do you do all day?" she prodded gently, trying to coax him out of his silence. Plankton's reply was immediate and robotic, "Do, all day, all day." Hanna's brow furrowed, uncertain how to interpret his repetitive response. She had known Karen for years, but Plankton's behavior was unlike anything she had ever heard of her friend's husband. "Do you like the beach?" she asked, hoping to engage him in conversation. Plankton's eye blinked slowly, his mind processing the question. "Beach," he echoed, his voice hollow. Hanna nodded, encouraged by his response. "Yes, the beach! It's such a beautiful place. Do you ever go there?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the memory of sand and surf a distant whisper. "Go, beach, beautiful place," he said, his words a stuttered echo of hers. Hanna's smile dimmed slightly. This wasn't the witty banter she was expecting from Karen's husband. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she asked, uncertain. Plankton's eye moved to hers, his gaze intense. "Talk," he repeated, his voice a whisper. Hanna felt a twinge of discomfort. Something was off about his responses, but she couldn't quite put her tentacle on what it was. "Well, what do you like to do for fun?" she tried again, her tone tentative. Plankton's eye wandered back to his own hand, fidgeting with his fingers. "Do, fun," he murmured, the words a reflexive response to the question. Hanna's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you do for fun?" she clarified, wondering if he had simply misunderstood. Plankton's gaze remained on his fidgeting hand, his mind racing to connect the concept of 'fun' with his new reality. "Do, fun," he repeated, his voice devoid of the mirth he once expressed so freely. Hanna's smile was now forced, her confusion growing with each interaction. "Plankton, can you tell me what you enjoy doing?" she asked, hoping for a clearer response. He looked up at her, his gaze slightly less focused than before. "Enjoy doing," he repeated, his voice a faint echo. Hanna's twitched with concern. "You know, like hobbies or interests," she prompted gently, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's eye moved back to his fidgeting hand, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensory overload. "Hobbies, interests," he murmured, his voice a hollow echo. Hanna's concern was now clear on her screen. "You know, like things you like to do in your free time," she tried again, her voice a little less bright. Plankton's eye latched onto hers. "Free time," he repeated, his voice a monotone. "Like to do." Hanna's eyes widened slightly, her confusion growing with each word he said. "Yes, exactly," she nodded, her voice a little more cautious now. "What do you like to do in your free time? Well, other than repetition.." She awkwardly laughs as she elbows him multiple times, not knowing how her touch is irritating Plankton. Plankton's getting more frustrated/angry now, as Hanna goes to pat his shoulder. He can't take much more now. Hanna's touch was like a brand, searing his already overwhelmed senses. He flinched away, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton, are you ok?" Hanna asked, her voice filled with concern. She noticed his discomfort but couldn't pinpoint the cause. He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "Ok, ok," he mumbled, his voice still a monotone. Hanna looked at him with concern, her smile slipping. "Karen said you used to be quite the conversationalist. What happened?" She says, grabbing his elbow; but that's the last straw for Plankton. Plankton's eye snapped up to hers, his voice sharp. "What happened? You happened!" He snapped, his words sharp as a knife. The sudden aggression in his tone was like a slap in the face, catching Hanna off guard. She took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she began, but Plankton was on a roll now. "You don't know what happened!" his voice grew louder, his words quickening with each syllable. "You don't know anything!" Hanna's eyes went wide with shock. This was not the Plankton Karen had described. Her arms flailed in the air as she tried to placate his sudden anger. "I'm sorry, Plankton. I just didn't know..."

ﾟ｡⋆ 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒, 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 🧘🏻‍♀️

You don't just practice away a neurological disorder 👀

JUST A TOUCH iii (Autistic author) ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ Once home, she helped him settle into his favorite chair, his eye scanning the room. Everything was in its place, exactly as he liked it. Karen noticed his breathing slow as the familiarity washed over him. She knew that routine and order could be vital to his comfort now to avoid triggering his anxiety. Then suddenly, Plankton began to rock back and forth. Karen recognized the motion. It was a new behavior, one she hadn't seen before. His body swayed with a rhythm that matched the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're home now." The rocking grew more intense, his eye darting around the room, his antennae vibrating with each back-and-forth movement. Karen's mind raced, trying to remember the doctor's words. Sensory overload. He needed calm. Swiftly, she dimmed the lights, the neon signs from the Krabby Patty franchise across the street casting soothing shadows through the windows. The glow was just enough to illuminate the space without causing further distress, and she watched as Plankton's rocking subsided. She sat by him. She grasped and squeezed his shoulder. But this time, he flinched. "Plankton?" she asked, concern etching her voice. He pulled away from her, his antennae dropping to his side. The doctor had mentioned that some with autism might have heightened sensitivity to touch. Karen felt a knot in her stomach. "What if he doesn't like me touching him anymore?" she thought. "What if I can't comfort him when he's upset?" She decided to test the waters gently. Reaching out, she lightly trailed her finger over his hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged, she placed her hand on his shoulder again, this time more softly. He tensed, then relaxed. It was progress. "Let's start with simple touch," she said, her voice soothing. The doctor had mentioned that Plankton might be hypersensitive to certain types of touch, and Karen was determined to navigate this new aspect of their relationship with care. She placed a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen." Her hand hovered over his, unsure of the best way to provide comfort. Karen took a deep breath, deciding to try again. This time, she approached with care, her touch feather-light, gliding over his hand like the softest of sea breezes. Plankton's antennae twitched, and his gaze remained on her hand, watching the movement as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Gradually, the tension in his body eased, and his hand lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative touch, his fingers brushing against hers, testing the waters. Karen felt a rush of relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured, keeping her voice low and even. Plankton's hand was cold, his grip firm but not painful. His eye locked onto hers, searching for reassurance. Slowly, she began to stroke his hand with her thumb, applying the slightest pressure. His breathing evened out, his antennae rising slightly. Encouraged, she tried a different type of touch—a gentle squeeze. This time, he didn't flinch. Instead, his hand returned the gesture, his own grip matching hers in strength. Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Maybe we can find a way through this," she thought. They sat in silence for a few moments, their hands entwined, as Karen tried to think of the next step. The doctor's words echoed in her mind: find what works for him. Gently, she began to rub his hand, her thumb moving in small, soothing circles. Plankton seemed to find comfort in the predictable pattern, his body unwinding a fraction more. Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. But as soon as her hand made contact with his skin, he jerked away, his eye flashing with fear and pain. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, her heart racing. "I didn't mean to scare you." Plankton stared at her, his expression unreadable. "It's just, sometimes touch feels..." His words trailed off, and Karen felt her own fear rising. "Painful?" she guessed, her voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Some touches are okay, others..." He paused, his eye darting to his hand, which was still wrapped around hers. "It's confusing." Karen nodded, her heart aching for him. She knew she had to be more mindful of his sensory needs. Carefully, she pats his cheek with the back of her hand, the lightest of touches. Plankton's antennae flinched, but he didn't pull away until she put both of her hands on his shoulders. The sudden pressure was too much, like an electric shock. "Karen," he said, his voice tight with discomfort, "too much." Karen nodded, her hands retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching hers. "It's okay, Karen," he said, his voice measured. "But some touches are too much." Karen nodded, her heart heavy. She had so much to learn about this new Plankton, this person she knew so well yet barely knew at all. "I'll be more careful," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. Plankton's gaze remained steady on hers, his expression neutral. "Thank you, Karen," he said, giving her a side hug. This was a Plankton she had never seen before, one who spoke in a staccato rhythm, his movements precise and calculated. Yet, in the safety of their home, Karen saw glimpses of the man she knew. Her eyes fell upon a pamphlet the doctor had given her, titled 'Understanding Neurodivergence'. She picked it up and began to read. The first few pages were dedicated to explaining what it meant to be neurodivergent, how it wasn't an illness but a natural variation in the brain. Plankton's new condition, Acquired Autism, was one of the many spectrums that fell under this umbrella. Karen read through the descriptions of different behaviors, her eyes widening as she recognized some of the changes in Plankton— his need for order, his heightened sensitivity to stimuli, and his newfound obsessions. The pamphlet explained that these were common in individuals with his condition and offered optional suggestions for supporting them. Her gaze fell upon a section titled 'Seizure Protocols'. Karen's eyes widened as she read about the different types of seizures that could occur due to neurodivergence. Some were minor, like staring spells, while others could be more severe. Her heart raced as she thought of Plankton, his body stiffening and shaking. The pamphlet recommended to keep any sharp or harmful objects away from him. It was important not to restrain him, but instead, to gently guide him to the floor if necessary. The next section discussed how to communicate with someone on the spectrum. It suggested using clear, direct language, avoiding sarcasm and idioms. Karen realized that she would have to learn a new way of speaking with Plankton. Her screen skimmed over the pages, absorbing the information like a sponge. The pamphlet highlighted the importance of individuality and diversity, emphasizing that Plankton's brain was not broken, but simply wired differently. This was a concept she had heard of before, but it had never hit so close to home. The causes of neurodisability varied widely, from genetics to congenital to trauma. One paragraph caught her attention—brain injuries could lead to conditions like Acquired Autism. The words swirled in her mind, a stark reminder of the wrench that had changed everything. As Karen read on, she learned about the complex interplay of biological factors and life experiences that can shape a person's neurodivergence. It was both overwhelming and fascinating, a glimpse into a world she had never truly understood.

NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT iii (Autistic author) The door creaks open, and Karen turned to see Hannapoking her head in. Hanna's never met Plankton. "Hi, Karen," Hanna called, warm and cheerful. "How's the Chum Bucket running today?" Karen forced a smile at the sight of Hanna. She hadn't told anyone about Plankton's condition yet. "Oh, you know," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Just another day." Plankton's eye snapped up at the sound of Hanna's voice, his gaze intense. Karen felt a flicker of anxiety. Would he be able to handle the unpredictability of a guest? "Plankton, this is Hanna," Karen introduced. "Hanna, this is my husband, Plankton. I’m going to clean up the yard." As Karen left, Hanna's screen lit up. "The one and only!" she exclaimed, moving in for a hug. Plankton recoiled at the sudden physical contact. "No touch," he said, a sudden snap of command. Hanna, taken aback, froze. "Oh, I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "No touch," he repeated in a way that was both defensive and pleading. Hanna took a step back, her smile faltering. Plankton's eye darted around the room, his breaths shallow and quick. The sudden intrusion into his personal space had triggered a storm of sensory overload, his brain struggling to process the unexpected contact. "I'm sorry," Hanna began. "No touch!" His voice was a whipcrack in the silence, his body tensing. Hanna's smile had disappeared completely, replaced by a look of confusion and concern. "Plankton, I didn't mean to upset you," she said. "Can we start over?" But Plankton's agitation only grew. "No touch!" he snapped again. Hanna took in his distress. "I'm sorry," she stuttered, her voice tentative. But Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the spot where her hand had been, his body a taut wire of frustration. "No touch," he murmured, his voice a mix of anger and fear. Hanna's trying to understand, her own emotions a whirlwind of confusion and concern. "I didn't know." "No touch," he whispered. "What's going on, Plankton?" she asked. "You're scaring me." "No touch," he repeated, his body now vibrating with tension. Hanna felt her own frustration rising. "I said sorry," she retorted, her voice rising. "What more do you want?" Plankton's antennae shot up, his whole body quivering. "Understand!" he bellowed, the word no longer a mere echo but a demand. "Understand!" "Plankton, what's happening to you?" "Understand," he spat. "Need to... understand!" "I don't get it, Plankton," she said. "What do you want from me?" "No touch!" he shouted. The cucumber slices bounced off the plate, scattering across the floor. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded, her own anger rising. "Why are you acting like this?" But Plankton's rage had overtaken him, his need to be understood like a wildfire in his mind. "Need to... understand!" he yelled, his voice a desperate cry in the storm of his emotions. Hanna felt a wave of anger crash over her. "I don't get it!" she exclaimed, voice rising. "What's your problem?" "No touch!" he screamed again, his body a coil of tension. "Why are you acting like this?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "What's wrong with a simple hello?" Plankton's head snapped up, his eye locking onto hers. "Wrong," he said, the word a hiss. "Wrong!" "What do you mean, 'wrong'?" she challenged. "You're the one freaking out over a hug!" But Plankton was lost in his own world, his brain struggling to make sense of the chaotic sensory input. "No touch," he repeated. "Need... to... understand!" "I've had enough of this!" she shouted, her fists clenching. "What is your problem?" Plankton's eye darted around the room, his thoughts a blur of past and present. "Problem," he murmured. His hand shot out, slapping the cucumber plate off the table, the shatter of porcelain sharp in the silence. "Wrong," he murmured again, his voice a mix of anger and despair. "Need... to... understand." Hanna's own anger grew with each repetition, her voice rising. "I'm not the one with a problem!" she shot back. "You're the one who can't even handle a hug!" "Understand!" he shouted, his body shaking. "Need to understand!" His hand slammed on the table again, knocking over their drinks. The room was now a battlefield of emotions, each collision sending shockwaves through the air. Hanna's frustration boiling over. "What's your deal, Plankton?" she spat, each syllable laced with anger. But Plankton's fury was a volcano erupting, his voice a guttural roar. "Wrong!" he shouted. "Wrong!" He hugs his knees and started to rock in stimming, his body a maelstrom of sensory overload. Hanna, unable to comprehend his distress, felt her own anger flare. "What's your deal?" she yelled. "Why can't you just act normal?" Plankton's world was spinning, his senses assaulted by the sharpness of Hanna's tone. "No touch," he murmured, his voice a plea lost in the din of his thoughts. Hanna's screen flashed with irritation. "I said I'm sorry," she snapped, her voice like a whip. "What more do you want?" "No touch," he repeated, his voice a desperate cry for understanding as he rocked. Hanna's confusion grew with each repetition, her patience wearing as thin as the tension in the room. "Why are you doing this?" she shouted, her voice a mirror of his own frustration. Plankton's body was a tangle of emotion, his limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to communicate. "Wrong," he said, his voice a tornado of pain. "Need... to... understand!" Hanna took a step back, her face a mask of disbelief. "What's gotten into you?" she demanded, her own anger a match to his. "I didn't do anything wrong!" Plankton's eye grew wild, his body jerking as he tried to find the words to explain his pain. "Wrong," he insisted, his voice a tornado of frustration. "Need to... understand!" Hanna's own anger grew sharp as a knife. "What's your problem, Plankton?" she yelled. "You're acting like a maniac, I don’t know why Karen puts up with this!" “Karen?” Plankton shook. The question hung in the air, a challenge thrown down, a spark in his eye. Hanna's anger grew, her voice a crescendo of accusation. "Your wife loved you, Plankton, despite your... quirks. Can't you just be grateful for that? Can’t you see how much she's trying?" But Plankton's fury was a hurricane, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. "Wrong!" he shouted, his body rigid. "Need to understand!" The room vibrated with his pain, his need to communicate the storm raging within him. Hanna's a gale force of accusation. "What's your problem?" she screamed, each word a shard of ice. Plankton's eye darted around the room, his antennae trembling with the overwhelming noise. “If only Karen knew what a monster you really are, perhaps she would leave you!” She yells loud enough to alarm Karen. Her words hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over his already fractured reality. The world around him grew distant, his eye glazed over as he tried to process the onslaught of emotions. His body froze, every muscle locked in place. Karen, drawn by the commotion, rushed back inside with dread. She took in the scene with a gasp, Hanna's screen flushed with anger, Plankton's body a statue of despair. "What's happening?" she demanded, her screen flicking from one to the other. Hanna's gaze met hers, her voice filled with exhaustion. "Your husband just lost it over a simple hug," she told, her hands still shaking. Karen took in Plankton's rigid form. "Oh no," she murmured, as Hanna notices Plankton and his unblinking stare. "What's wrong with him?" Hanna asked, her anger dissipating in the face of his sudden stillness. Karen's with concern as she rushed to his side. "It's ok, I've got you." Plankton's body remained stiff, his eye unblinking as he froze in place. Hanna took in his pallor, the starkness of his features against the chaos of the room. "What's going on?" she whispered, the fight draining from her voice. Karen's screen met hers, desperation etched into her features. "Hanna, what did you say to him?" she pleaded, her voice a symphony of fear. Hanna's expression softened at the sight of Plankton's frozen form. "I... I didn't mean to upset him," she stuttered, her words tripping over themselves. "I just gave him a hug, and he went crazy. He kept saying 'no touch' and 'need to understand'. And I told him you deserve better, that's all." Karen's feeling shattered at the revelation. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in Plankton's lifeless form. “Hanna, tell me what exactly you said to about him..” Hanna, her anger now replaced with a deep sorrow, recounted their interaction, her words falling like heavy rain. Karen listened, upsettingly sinking with each syllable. "He said 'no touch', right?" Karen whispered, her voice a thread of hope. "It's his way of saying he's overwhelmed." Hanna nodded, her anger giving way to worry. "Yes, and he kept repeating 'need to understand'. I didn't know what to do and got frustrated with him, and I said you deserve a better life." Karen's gaze never left Plankton's still form as she absorbed Hanna's words. The doctor's voice echoed in her mind: his autism wasn't a choice, it was his reality. "Hanna, please," she said, her voice a whisper of despair. "He's not a monster, he's just different." Hanna's expression softened, her own filling with regret. "I'm sorry, Karen," she said, her voice a quiet apology. "I should have known better." Karen's gaze remained locked on Plankton, her heart racing. She knew she had to help him, had to bring him back from the edge of this sensory apocalypse. "It's ok," she murmured, her voice a gentle whisper. "It's ok." Her hand reached out to him, a bridge of comfort in the storm of his overwhelmed mind. "Look at me, Plankton," she soothed, her voice a soft lullaby. "I'm here. It's just us." Slowly, his gaze shifted to her, his pupil contracting in the face of her calm. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're okay."

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON i (Autistic author) Karen stood, watching from a distance her husband Plankton, whose passion for inventing often overshadowed his love for the simple things in life, was deeply engrossed in his latest project. He was a man of small stature but enormous ideas, and his tiny fingers moved with a grace and precision that belied their size. and Karen knew better than to disturb him when he was in the throes of creation. Suddenly, with a deafening crash, the machine toppled over. It hit Plankton's head with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the floor, his eye rolling back in the socket before closing, and his body went still. Panic flooded Karen as she sprinted to his side. "Plankton!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off the metal walls of their underwater laboratory. Gently, she nudged him, but he remained unresponsive. "Wake up," she whispered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, her voice barely audible above the echoes of the metal chamber. Her gentle shakes turned to frantic pats. "Wake up, Plankton, please," she pleaded. She knew basic first aid, but nothing for something like this—whatever "this" was. "You can't do this to me," she murmured, desperation seeping into her voice. She searched his lifeless form for any sign of movement. His chest was rising, as she found a pulse. He was alive, but barely. Her fear grew with every second that ticked away without his eye opening. The hospital was their only hope. She scooped him up in her arms and raced through the corridors of their underwater abode. The bubble-mobile was docked outside, a sleek contraption that Plankton had designed himself. She placed him gently inside, his head lolling back against the seat. Her trembling hands gripped the wheel, and with a quick glance at his still face, she revved the engine. The bubble-mobile shot forward, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. The journey to the Bikini Bottom Hospital was fraught with tension, each second feeling like an eternity. The neon lights of Bikini Bottom blurred together in her tears, creating a disorienting mosaic of color and light. Her eyes darted between the road and Plankton, his chest rising and falling with breaths. Parking the bubble-mobile in the hospital's emergency dock, Karen leapt out, carrying Plankton with a strength born of desperation. The doors of the hospital slammed open as she burst through, the sound reverberating through the calm aquatic corridors. The medical staff, accustomed to the occasional drama of Bikini Bottom, quickly surrounded them, a flurry of fins and hands reaching to assist. "Dr. Kelp," Karen gasped, "my husband—he's been hurt." The doctor's eyes widened with concern as he quickly assessed Plankton's condition. "Bring him in immediately," he ordered, his voice sharp and urgent. Karen felt a wave of relief wash over her as the hospital staff took over, whisking Plankton away on a stretcher. Her legs wobbled as she followed them into the brightly lit emergency room, her heart racing in her chest. Dr. Kelp, a squid with a calm and reassuring demeanor, instructed the nurses to prepare for a potential concussion. Karen hovered nervously, watching them work with efficient precision. After a tense moment of silence, the machine beeped and the doctor's face fell. They had found something more serious than any concussion. The brain scan revealed that Plankton had suffered severe damage to his brain —a rare but well-documented condition called "Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder." The news hit Karen like a ton of bricks. Her mind raced with questions and worries as she tried to process what this meant for their future. Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder— a condition she had only ever heard about in whispers. The doctor explained that it was rare, but not unheard of, and that it could change Plankton's behavior, his ability to interact with others, and even his cognitive functions. Karen felt a swirl of emotions— fear, anger, and a deep, gnawing sadness. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. "What caused this?" she demanded, her voice shaking with desperation. "It appears to be a result of the trauma from the fall," Dr. Kelp replied solemnly, his tentacles waving to illustrate his explanation. "The brain can be a delicate organ, even for someone as resilient as your husband." Karen's eyes narrowed as she focused on the term 'Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder'. The doctor elaborated. "The corpus callosum, a bridge of nerve fibers connecting the two hemispheres of the brain, had suffered significant damage. His prefrontal cortex (PFC) circuits are now compromised, and his cerebellum's tissue has been affected, too. Also it's irreversible with no cure; he'll have it for as long as he lives. What you can do is make sure he's happy and be mindful of any new behaviors, providing your love and support." Karen felt a wave of anger toward the invention that had taken his attention so completely. Why did he have to push so hard? Why couldn't he just enjoy their life together without always striving for more? But anger quickly gave way to determination. They would face this together, just as they had faced every challenge that had been thrown at them. "We'll let you both stay here together overnight. But yes, autism can vary widely. You'll need to be prepared for anything," Dr. Kelp said gently. The hospital room was cold and sterile, the only sound the steady beep of the monitor beside Plankton's bed. Karen pulled a chair closer, her screen never leaving her husband's face as she held his hand. The sun had barely risen outside when his eye fluttered open. "Plankton," Karen whispered. His eye opened slowly as the doctor came in, his tentacles moving quickly to check the monitors. Plankton's gaze was distant, unfocused, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Karen watched him, his eye searching the room with a childlike curiosity, his grip on her hand tightening. Plankton's gaze finally fell upon her, and she smiled, hoping it would bring him comfort. But his eyebrow furrowed as he studied her intently. He blinked rapidly, his mind trying to make connections that no longer existed in the same way. "Karen?" he mumbled, the word thick and slurred, as if his mouth had forgotten how to form the syllables. "You're ok," she assured him, squeezing his hand. But his confusion was palpable as he scanned the unfamiliar environment. "You had an accident," she began, her voice soothing as she tried to explain what had happened. Plankton's eye widened as he tried to piece together the events that had led them here. The doctor stepped forward. "Mr. Plankton, you've suffered a traumatic brain injury. You have a condition called Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder. It means your brain works differently now." Plankton's eye blinked slowly, taking in the doctor's words. He tried to sit up, his body rigid, but the doctor's firm touch on his shoulder kept him in place. Plankton's eye landed on Karen, his grip tightening around her hand. He stared at her, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. "What's happening?" his voice was a whisper, his usual boisterousness muted. He was trying to make sense of the words, to understand the gravity of his condition. "What's happening?" he asked again, his voice a little louder, more insistent. Karen tried to explain. "You've been hurt, Plankton. You're different now, but we're going to get through this together."

"You're going to be okay," Karen assured Plankton. He clutched her hand. "I'm right here." The receptionist's voice echoed through the large waiting room. "Plankton?" Karen's heart jumped. She squeezed her husband's hand. They walked down the hallway, Plankton's breaths shallow, eye darting around the white, sterile walls. The nurse led them to a small room. "Just a few questions," the nurse smiled, her voice soothing as she helped him in the recliner. The nurse, noticing his agitation, spoke slowly and clearly. "We're just going to take your blood pressure, okay?" The nurse wrapped the cuff around his bicep, her movements gentle. The hiss of the air pump filled the tense silence. "Look at me, Plankton," Karen whispered, her calming gaze meeting his. "Take deep breaths." He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a deliberate rhythm. The nurse waited patiently, giving them space. As the cuff tightened, Plankton's eye squeezed shut. The nurse completed her task quickly, her voice steady. "Good job," she said, patting his hand. Karen felt his fear spike, but his grip on her hand remained firm as the oral surgeon walked in. Dr. Marquez nodded at them, his demeanor calm and professional. "Hello, Plankton. I see we're getting ready for your wisdom teeth." He noticed Plankton's tension and turned to Karen. "You earlier mentioned his neurodisability. Is there anything special we can do to help make him comfortable?" Karen's screen lit up with gratitude. "Yes, thank you." She explained his need for calm and his sensory sensitivities. Dr. Marquez nodded thoughtfully. "We can use a weighted blanket to help with that. It provides a gentle pressure that can be quite comforting for some of my patients." He turned to the nurse. "Could you please bring one?" The nurse nodded and left the room. When she returned, she carried a soft, blue weighted blanket they warmed. They placed the blanket over Plankton, the weight evenly distributed. His body visibly relaxed under its soothing embrace. "It's okay," Karen whispered, stroking his antennae. "This will help." Plankton felt the warmth of the blanket, the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders and chest. But it did little to ease his dread. "Thank you, Dr. Marquez," Karen managed a smile, relief washing over her. She knew how important these accommodations were for her husband. The doctor explained the procedure, using simple terms that Plankton could understand. Karen noted how he tailored his explanation to avoid overwhelming details that might trigger anxiety. The anesthesiologist entered, her smile kind. "We're going to give you some medicine to help you sleep," she said gently, "and then you'll wake up without feeling a thing." Plankton nodded, his eye wide. Karen leaned in, her voice low. "You can hold my hand as you fall asleep." The anesthesiologist prepared the IV, but Plankton's grip on Karen's hand grew tighter. Dr. Marquez noticed his distress and suggested a different approach. "How about some laughing gas first?" he offered. "And perhaps a topical numbing agent.." The nurse quickly set up the gas mask, explaining each step. "This will help you relax," she said, placing it over him. "Just breathe normally." The sweet smell of the nitrous oxide filled him, yet he still remained awake. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen said soothingly. "Just keep breathing." He took a tentative breath, feeling the gas fill his lungs. The room began to spin, but not in the scary way he'd feared. It was more like floating. The weight of the blanket now felt like a gentle hug from the ocean depths, a warm embrace from his childhood home. Dr. Marquez waited until Plankton's breathing steadied, each gesture carefully calculated to avoid any sudden movements that might startle his patient. "You're doing great," he assured Plankton, his voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore of his anxiety. "You're almost there." Plankton inhaled another lungful of gas, his eye fluttering closed. The nurse gently began applying the topical numbing agent, her movements carefully choreographed to avoid any sudden jolts. Karen held his other hand, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm. "You're safe," she whispered. "I'm here." The gas grew heavier, his mind drifted further from the cold reality of the room. He felt himself sinking into the chair, the weighted blanket now a warm sea of comfort. His grip on Karen's hand grew looser, his breaths deepening. The doctor nodded to the anesthesiologist, who began the IV drip after using the topical numbing agent. Plankton's fear didn't vanish, but it became manageable, a distant thunderstorm rather than a hurricane in his face. His eye closed completely, his body going limp under the blanket. Karen watched as the surgical team moved with precision, their masks and caps dancing in her peripheral vision. The beeping of machines and the murmur of medical jargon filled her ears, but all she focused on was the rhythm of Plankton's breathing. The anesthesiologist checked the monitors and gave a nod. "He's ready," she said quietly. Dr. Marquez took his position, his gloved hands poised over Plankton's now open mouth after removing the gas mask. Karen's gaze was steady, her love and support unwavering as the surgical team moved in unison. The whirring of the instruments began, a soft mechanical lullaby to the background of Plankton's deep, even breaths. The surgery itself was a dance of precision, each gesture a step carefully choreographed to minimize discomfort. The doctor's hands were steady as he removed the wisdom teeth. Karen could see the tense lines in Plankton's face soften under the influence of the anesthesia. The anesthesiologist checked the monitors continuously, ensuring his vital signs remained steady. The nurse offered Karen a chair, but she chose to stand, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. As the surgery progressed, Karen felt the tension in the room ease. The surgical team worked with efficiency, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. Dr. Marquez spoke in hushed tones with his assistants, each word a gentle whisper in the symphony of medical sounds. Plankton's breaths steadied, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor a soothing reminder that he was still with her, that his anxiety had been replaced by the peacefulness of deep sedation. The doctor's instruments continued to dance, a silent ballet of precision and care. The nurse occasionally glanced at Karen, offering a reassuring smile as they suture his gums with dissolving stitches. "Alright, we're all done," Dr. Marquez announced, his voice a gentle interruption to the symphony of beeps and whirs. "Let's wake him up slowly." Karen felt her own heart rate spike as the anesthesiologist began reversing the medication. They removed the IV drip and the nurse wiped Plankton's mouth with a soft cloth, her touch as gentle as a sea anemone caressing his skin. His eye flickered open, unfocused and hazy. He blinked slowly, taking in the surroundings. Karen's screen was the first thing he saw, a beacon in the medical fog. "You're okay," she murmured, her voice the gentle hum of a distant lighthouse guiding his consciousness back to shore. Plankton blinked again, his vision swimming into focus. The weighted blanket was still wrapped around him, the comforting pressure now a grounding reminder of her presence. His mouth felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. The nurse offered him water, and he sipped it slowly, feeling the coolness soothe his throat. "How do you feel?" Dr. Marquez asked, his voice a soft wave breaking over the shore of Plankton's awareness. Plankton nodded, his grip on Karen's hand firm. "Good," he managed to murmur, his voice thick with the aftermath of the anesthesia. Karen could see the relief in his eye, the storm of fear now a distant memory. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

COMPUTER SENSORS iv ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * Hanna laughs as he makes a particularly clever move. "You've got a knack for this," she says, accidentally jabbing him hard. "I'm sorry," she says quickly, her hand hovering in the air. "I didn't mean to—" But Plankton doesn't flinch. He's frozen, limbs limp at his sides. Hanna realizes the gravity of the situation. The room feels suddenly too warm, too bright, too loud. She's done it again—pushed him too far. "Plankton?" she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "You ok?" He doesn't respond, his body eerily still. Hanna feels the weight of her mistake. She'd been so caught up in the game, so focused on their newfound friendship that she'd forgotten his limitations. Karen sets her cards down gently and moves closer to her husband, her hand reaching out to his. "Plankton?" she says, her voice softer than a feather's touch. The room seems to hold its breath, the only sound the distant hum of the refrigerator. Hanna watches as Karen's hand hovers over Plankton's, the space between them filled with a tension that's almost palpable. Plankton's eye remains open, unblinking. His limbs are limp, no longer moving with their usual grace. It's as if he's a statue, frozen in time. Hanna's mind races, replaying the last moments, trying to understand what happened. Slowly, Karen reaches for Plankton, her touch feather-light. She speaks softly, a gentle coax that seems to seep into his very being. "Plankton," she whispers, "You're ok. You're safe." Hanna watches, her own hands clenched into fists at her sides. The room feels like it's closing in around her, the pressure of the silence suffocating. But Karen's calmness is a beacon, a reminder that she's seen this before, that she knows how to handle it. "Plankton, baby," Karen says, her voice soothing and gentle. "You're ok. Just breathe." Hanna's eyes are wide with worry as she watches the scene unfold. Plankton's eye open but unseeing, his body frozen . The reality is more terrifying than she could have imagined. "Plankton," she says, "you know I'm here. You know I've got you." It's a gentle reminder of the safety net she's always been, the one constant in his ever-shifting world. Plankton's body remains still, a silent sentinel in the midst of their quiet living room. He lay slack in Karen's arms, his eye unblinking, as if he's listening to a melody that only he can hear. Hanna watches, as Karen's voice weaves a tapestry of comfort around them. "You know I'm here," Karen says softly, her hand still clutching Plankton's tentacle. "You're not alone." Her words are a gentle reminder of the sanctuary she's always provided, a shelter from the overwhelming world outside. "It's okay," she says, "just come back to us when you're ready." Karen sighs, breaking the tension. "It's ok," she says, her voice a gentle whisper that seems to fill the room. "This happens sometimes." She looks at Hanna with understanding and a hint of sadness. "What can I do to help?" Hanna asks, her voice trembling slightly. "Just keep an eye on him," Karen says, never leaving her husband. "If he starts to seize we'll need to move him to the floor and clear any sharp objects. But he's usually ok after these episodes. They're not necessarily 'seizures' but they can be similar." Hanna nods, trying to absorb the information. She's never dealt with something like this before, and the fear is palpable. But she's determined to be there for her friends, to understand and support them through this. She takes a deep breath, focusing on Karen's words. "This isn't the first time. We have a protocol for these episodes." Karen's grip tightens, never leaving his unseeing gaze. "You're ok," she repeats, her voice a soothing balm in the maelstrom of his mind. "Just let it pass." Karen's turns to Hanna. "It's ok. He'll come out of it soon." She speaks with the calmness experience with Plankton's condition a silent testament to the strength of their bond. Hanna nods, glued to Plankton's unmoving form. "Ok," Karen says, turning her attention back to her husband. She takes a deep breath her voice steady. "Hanna, come here." Hanna moves tentatively, feeling like she's walking through a minefield. She approaches Plankton's side, her eyes never leaving his frozen form. Karen's hand leaves his, and she takes Hanna's in its place. "Just hold his hand," she instructs. "Let him know you're here, too." Her hand is trembling as it reaches for Plankton's. She wraps her fingers around his. She squeezes gently, hoping to convey her apology without words. Karen speaks to Hanna. "Just hold on," she says, "don't let go. He'll feel your warmth, your presence." Karen's hand guides hers, showing her the right amount of pressure, the right rhythm of gentle strokes that she knows comforts him. "Good," Karen murmurs, still locked on Plankton's vacant gaze. "Just keep doing that. It helps him feel connected." Hanna nods, her grip firm but gentle on Plankton's. She's acutely aware of the responsibility in her grasp, the power to either comfort or cause further distress. Karen's hand moves to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Good," she whispers. "Just keep doing that." Her hand moves to Hanna's, guiding her in the slow, deliberate strokes that she knows calm him. "Remember, he's ok. He's just taking a break." Hanna nods, trying to push down the panic rising in her chest. She watches as Karen's hand glides over Plankton's, her touch as light as a feather. It's a silent dance, a language of comfort that Hanna is just beginning to understand. "Just like this," Karen whispers, never leaving Plankton's unseeing gaze. "Let him know you're with him." Hanna nods, brimming with tears she's fighting to hold back. She mimics Karen's gentle strokes feeling the tension in Plankton slowly begin to ease. It's a delicate balance, a silent conversation that she's only just learning the language of. "That's it," Karen whispers, her hand still on Hanna's shoulder. "Just keep going. He'll come back to us." Hanna feels the tension in her own body slowly unravel as she matches her strokes to Karen's rhythm. It's a strange, almost meditative experience, this silent communication of care. "Good," Karen says, her voice a gentle breeze. "Just keep your breathing steady." She demonstrates. "It helps him sync up with us." Karen says, her voice a gentle guide. "Inhale...exhale...in...out." Karen whispers, her hand still resting on Hanna's shoulder. "Now, just keep your voice low. He's sensitive to sound right now." Hanna nods, her voice a mere murmur. "Ok." She watches as Karen's hand continues to move over Plankton's strokes a silent promise of safety. "Just talk to him," Karen says. "Use a soft voice. It'll help bring him back." Hanna swallows hard, her voice shaky. "Plankton, I'm here. It's Hanna." She wonders if he can feel her touch, if he knows she's there. "Good," Karen says, her own voice a gentle hum in the stillness. "Just keep talking to him. He'll come back when he's ready." "I'm sorry, Plankton," she says, her grip tightening slightly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to show you that I care." Karen nods. "That's good," she murmurs. "Just keep talking to him. Tell him what you're feeling." Her hand moves to cover Hanna's, guiding her in the gentle strokes that Plankton needs. "He'll hear you. He just needs time to come back." "I'm here, Plankton," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry for pushing too hard. I didn't mean to hurt you." Here locked on his unblinking gaze, willing him to understand. Karen's hand is warm and steady on hers, a silent reminder that she's not alone. She feels a strange kinship with Plankton in this moment, a shared experience of fear and confusion that transcends words. Karen's filled with empathy as she nods, urging Hanna to continue. "Just keep talking to him," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle coax. "He's still with us. He just needs to find his way back." Hanna nods, her voice a soft echo in the quiet room. "Plankton, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to be friends." Karen's hand squeezes her shoulder, a silent message of support. "That's it," she whispers. "Just keep your voice low and steady. He'll hear you." Hanna continues her gentle strokes, her voice a soothing lullaby. "You're safe," she repeats, her words a gentle echo of Karen's earlier reassurances. "We're here for you." The room feels like it's holding its breath, every atom suspended in anticipation of Plankton's return. And then, it comes—a blink, a faint twitch. It's as if a door has cracked open, a sliver of light piercing the darkness. "Look," Karen breathes, her voice a whisper of hope. "He's coming back." "Plankton," she says again, her voice a gentle caress. "I'm here. It's Hanna." The grip twitches more noticeably now, and she feels his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips. "Keep it up." "We're all here for you."

https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fstylenrich.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F11%2Fhand-reflexology-stylenrich.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=dd4d226d3d7e2dc3a20c693007821637b3c129cc8d57088ab4657c62058872f7&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.shopify.com%2Fs%2Ffiles%2F1%2F1896%2F7971%2Farticles%2Fhand-reflexology_1000x.jpg%3Fv%3D1587598415&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=88456e1361df325ed8a929d07040e43dd28ccd19f811d26298b91af6e1aace98&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.healthkart.com%2Fconnect%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2020%2F09%2Faccupressure%2520(7)-768x1412.png&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=3d7625cacecaa58da5be2edf4c2b48cd577ac505377c3743dee91320db558781&ipo=images

NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT (Autistic author) "Plankton, look out!" The warning echoed through the lab, too late to prevent the calamity. Sheldon Plankton, the infamous villain and tiny proprietor of the Chum Bucket, had been so absorbed in his latest contraption that he never saw it coming. A miscalculation, a misstep and a metal clank as the heavy contraption toppled over. The world around him spun into a kaleidoscope of color, and with a sickening crack, everything went dark. Panic gripped Karen, his loyal sidekick and wife. She rushed to his side, his body sprawled unnaturally beneath the twisted metal. She reached out to gently shake him. "Plankton!" she shouted, her voice piercing the quiet. His eye remained closed, unresponsive to her touch or her cries. Karen's panic grew, her mind racing through possible scenarios. What if he's seriously hurt? What if this is the end? She buckled him in the car to take him to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. She held his hand and drove. "Plankton, please wake up," she murmured, her voice shaking. "You've got to be okay," Karen continued, her voice strained. "We still have so much to do. So much to steal from the Krabby Patty secret formula. So much to prove to Mr. Krabs." But Plankton lay there, motionless. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the car engine and the occasional splash from the wet streets of Bikini Bottom. Karen's thoughts spiraled, her usual confidence in his invincibility shattered. "Remember when we first met?" she began, her voice soft. "You had the biggest dreams. You said we'd rule the ocean one day." She managed a weak laugh, but it sounded forced, even to her. Her grip on his hand tightened. "You swore we'd crack that Krabby Patty formula," she continued. "We've come so close so many times, and each failure just made you more determined." Her voice grew stronger, the memories fueling her words. "Do you remember the first time we tried to sneak into the Krusty Krab?" she asked, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. "You had that ridiculous disguise?" Despite the dire situation, she couldn't help but smile at the memory. "We've been through so much since then, Plankton. You've always found a way to bounce back, no matter how crazy the plan or how dire the outcome." But Plankton remained still. "We can't give up now," she whispered, her voice trembling. The hospital's cold lights flickered above them as they waited for the doctor. The beeping of machines and the hushed whispers of nurses filled the room, but Karen's thoughts drowned it all out. The doctor, a stern-looking fish with spectacles, entered the room, holding a clipboard. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his tone professional but gentle. "We've completed the brain scan on your husband. The results are..." "Is he okay?" she finally choked out. The doctor looked up, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Plankton's injuries are... complex. He's sustained a brain injury, and he's developed Autism Spectrum Disorder." Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice a mix of fear and hope. The doctor took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "It means his brain has been affected in a way that will change how he perceives and interacts with the world around him. It's a spectrum, so the symptoms can vary widely." He explained further, detailing the challenges that lay ahead for both of them. Plankton might have difficulties with social interactions, repetitive behaviors, and sensory sensitivities. Karen's mind raced, never leaving Plankton's still form. Then, just as the doctor finished, Plankton's single eyelid began to flutter, slowly opening to reveal a gaze that seemed somehow... different. He looked around the sterile room, his eye darting from one corner to another, taking in every detail with an intensity that was unnerving. Karen's squeezing his hand harder. "Plankton?" she whispered. For a moment, there was no response. Then, in a voice that was his yet not quite, he spoke. "Karen," Plankton said, his voice mechanical and measured. His voice, though familiar, now a puzzling echo of its former self. She leaned in closer, desperate for some sign of the Plankton she knew. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice tentative. Plankton's eye narrowed as he considered her question, his voice echoing the words back to her in a staccato rhythm, "How... do... you... feel?" The repetition sent a shiver down Karen, but she managed a nod. "Karen," he began again, his tone eerily calm, "How do you feel?" Karen's screen searched his eye, seeking a spark of recognition. "I-I'm worried," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But I'm here for you." "Worried," Plankton echoed, his voice a metronome of emotionless syllables. "Worried. Worried." The doctor cleared his throat, interrupting the eerie pattern. "Palilalia is a common symptom with ASD," he explained gently. "It's the repetition of words and phrases. It can be a way of processing information." Karen nodded, trying to absorb the doctor's words as she continued to search Plankton for any sign of the cunning, albeit misguided, genius she knew so well. His gaze remained fixed on hers. "Karen," he said again, his voice still eerily detached. His usual energy and cunning seemed to have been replaced by this unsettling calmness. Yet, in his eye, she thought she could see a flicker of something familiar, a tiny spark of the man she had known for so long. "I need to understand," she said softly, willing him to connect with her. "What's going on?" "Understand," he repeated, his voice a monotone echo. "Under- stand." Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Plankton's eye grew wider, his focus intense. Karen watched, hopeful, as his hand began to twitch. He was trying to communicate. Using all her patience, she waited. "Understand," he said again, but this time, the word grew into a phrase, "I need to understand." The repetition was still present, but now it was tinged with urgency. Karen filled with tears as she nodded vigorously. "I know, Plankton, I know you do." The doctor, noticing the change, intervened, his voice soothing. "It's ok, Mr. Plankton. Take your time." He turned to Karen. "It's common for individuals with ASD to repeat words or phrases when they're trying to process their thoughts. It's called echolalia. It's his way of making sense of what's happening." Karen nodded, but she could see the wheels turning in his mind. His hand twitched more intensely now, his gaze more focused. "Understand," he said again, his voice gaining a slight inflection. "Need... to... under- stand." The words grew into a steady rhythm, a heartbeat of desire. Karen felt hope blossoming in her chest. The doctor leaned in, his expression one of curiosity. "It seems he's trying to express his need to understand his new condition," he murmured. "It's a positive sign. It shows he's engaging with the world around him." Karen nodded. "Under- stand," she whispered back to him. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton's twitching hand paused momentarily, his gaze lingering on hers. Then, his eye darted back to the doctor, the word "Understand" escaping his lips once more. The doctor nodded encouragingly. "It's ok, Mr. Plankton. Do you know what happened?" "Understand," he said, his tone shifting to one of curiosity. "Understand. Accident." Karen swelled with relief. It was the first time he'd formed a coherent thought since the incident. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing, "you had an accident in the lab. But we're going to get through this." The doctor nodded. "You have something called Autism." "Autism," Plankton echoed, his eye searching Karen's for an explanation. "It's okay," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her. "It just means you see the world differently now." Plankton's eye focused on hers, his hand stilled. "Different," he parroted back, as if testing the word's weight in the air. "Different." Karen took a deep breath, forcing a smile through her tears. "But not less," she assured him. "Just different." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, his antennas twitching slightly at the touch.

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2 (Neurodivergent author) By evening, Karen has set up a makeshift kitchen area in the living room, with all the ingredients for spaghetti arranged neatly on the coffee table. Plankton sits cross-legged on the floor, his eye never leaving the recipe book. He reads each step aloud, his voice growing stronger with confidence. Karen chops vegetables nearby, noticing the subtle changes in his movements, the way he tilts his head when he's concentrating. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil fills the room. Plankton stirs the pot, his face scrunching up slightly at the aroma, a sign his sensory sensitivity has heightened. She sees him rub his hands together, a self-stimulatory behavior, but she knows it's his way of grounding himself amidst the chaos. They move around the makeshift kitchen, a silent dance of understanding and support. Karen boils the water for the spaghetti while Plankton continues to sauté the veggies. Each action is deliberate, each step measured as they navigate their new reality. The water reaches a rolling boil, and Plankton carefully drops in the spaghetti strands, his gaze transfixed by the swirling water. Karen watches his concentration and sees the childlike wonder in his eye. "How long?" he asks. "Five minutes," Karen says, her voice calm. She's read that clear and concise instructions can be helpful. After five minutes, Plankton quickly drains the spaghetti, his movements precise and methodical. He pours the sauce over the noodles and mixes them gently, his focus intense. Karen watches him, a mix of admiration and concern. "It's done," he announces, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. She brings over two plates, setting them on the coffee table. They sit across from each other, the steaming spaghetti a bridge between them. Plankton's hand hovers over his plate, unsure of how to proceed with the new sensory experience. "Let's eat," Karen says with a smile, picking up her fork and twirling the noodles expertly. The sound of her silverware against the plate makes him flinch, but he mimics her movements. They eat in silence, the clinking of forks and spoons the only sounds in the room. Plankton chews slowly, savoring each bite, his face a canvas of emotions. Karen watches him, her own fork poised in midair. As they finish dinner, Plankton sets his plate aside and looks at her, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Karen," he says, his voice clear. "For being here Karen." Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them back. "Always, Plankton. I'll always be here. Now it's getting late; let's go to bed.." In bed, she reads to him, his favorite childhood story, the words acting as a lullaby. Plankton's hand rests on her arm, his thumb rubbing circles in a self-soothing gesture. His breathing steadies, matching the rhythm of her voice. The book's final page is turned, and she switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence is filled with the comforting hum of the fan above. Karen lies beside Plankton, his body rigid with tension. Her arm wraps around him, pulling him closer, and she feels his muscles slowly relax. "Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn't respond, lost in his thoughts. But she knows he heard her. Karen notices the tension in his body and gently runs her fingers through his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep, his body curled into hers like a child seeking shelter. The next morning, the sun streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed. Karen, already awake, watches him, her hand still entwined with his. He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the lines of worry from the day before smoothed out by the embrace of slumber. Carefully, she slides out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. She sees him stir in his sleep, his antennae twitching slightly, but he remains unaware of her departure. In the kitchen, Karen starts the coffee, the scent filling the room with a comforting aroma. She opens the fridge, finding the ingredients for the morning routine. Plankton's usual breakfast is a simple one: toast with jam and a banana. The toaster pops, and she spreads the jam with a gentle smoothness that Plankton likes. The banana peels easily, revealing the perfect yellow fruit inside. Her mind races with thoughts of how she'll need to learn his new sensitivities, his likes and dislikes, his triggers. But for now, she focuses on the task at hand, placing the slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is just right, she carries the breakfast tray to the bedroom, her steps soft against the cold floor. Plankton's still asleep, his snores punctuating the quiet morning. Karen sets the tray on the bedside table. She watches him, unsure how to wake him without causing distress. She's read about sensory sensitivity and knows that sudden noise can be jarring for someone with Autism. She gently strokes his antennae, her touch featherlight, and whispers his name, "Plankton, wake up." He stirs, his antennae twitching, but his eye remains closed. Karen tries again, a little louder this time, "Wake up, sweetie. Breakfast is ready." Plankton's hand shoots up to cover his eye, a reflexive reaction to the light. His body tenses, then relaxes as his mind adjusts to the new day. He sits up slowly. "Thank you, Karen," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. He takes in the breakfast spread before him, his antennae twitching with anticipation. He picks up the toast, feeling the warmth in his hands, the stickiness of the jam a familiar comfort. Karen watches him closely, noticing the way his eye widens slightly at the first bite, the way his tongue flicks out to taste the banana. It's as if every sensation is amplified, a symphony of flavors and textures that she can't begin to understand. She sips her coffee, silent, giving him space. As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again, his body rocking slightly. It's a low, comforting sound that fills the room. Karen feels the tension in her shoulders ease. This is their new normal, a dance of care and understanding.

Is Wednesday Addams Autistic? The question of Wednesday Addams neurotypicality has been going around the internet since the series was released. I have gathered some points asto whether she is actually autistic. To begin, she shows ahypersen sitivity towards colour as her mother says, "she is allergic to colour" and Wednesday's response to being asked what happens she says, "I break out into hives and then the flesh peels off my bones*". She also dislikes touch (like hugging), which is very usual for autistic people, either because of sen sory reasons or discomfort. It did take the whole season for her to be okay with hugging Enid. Hyper/hypo sensitivity - the over or under-responsiveness towards certain sensory stimuli is very common in autism and most autistic people experience both - in extreme cases being overwhelmed due to sensory differences or overstimulation can lead to meltdowns; what Wednesday explained happens to her may not be the typical behaviour of an autistic meltdown (rocking, crying, hitting etc.) so can we still consider this autistic? She is afictional character after all but let us continue to analyse her and figure it out. The next thing she does which may be considered autistic is dedicating one hour a day to her novel. Now, why is this autistic? A strict adherence to rules and being set in patterns is atypical trait of ASD, often people on the spectrum prefer to have routines so that they know what is going to happen. There is a comfort in doing things in a fixed pattern. Individuals with ASD even show reduced cognitive flexibility which is whythere is such difficultyin changing patterns, as well as it being overwhelming. To move on, Wednesday has very fixed interests and knows them with great depth, she showsthis with her knowledge in foren sie pathology and plants - she masters her skills - and as she says about herself, "I know I'm stubborn, single minded and obsessive", sheis stubborn so gets a task complete, she is single minded so very set in her ways and obsessive which in autistic people, obsessions can be a way to cope and feel less stressed about one's surroundings Most autistic people have fixated interests of abnormal intensity, is this the case with Wednesday Addams or is she just smart? As we all know, a level of social awkwardness comes with having autism, let us talk about Wednesday's social behaviour. Firstly, she doesn't show much body language when talking to anyone and has somewhat abnormalities of eye contact; she doesn't blink for long periods and or doesn't have much emotion in her eyes which can make it hard for other peopleto interpret her emotions, along with alack of facial expressions and speaking in a monotonous tone -which is usual of typical autistics. Secondly, when she does feel emotion while talking to someone (upset or other) she seems to mask in that moment while trying to compute her emotions, she has a difficulty

NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT ii (Autistic author) With Plankton's condition still fresh in her mind, Karen carefully guided him out of the hospital and into the car. She knew the drive back to the Chum Bucket would be a test, but she was determined to make it as smooth as possible. The car's engine rumbled to life, and she pulled out onto the wet streets of Bikini Bottom, fixed on the road ahead. Plankton was quieter than usual, his gaze out the window, taking in the world with a new perspective. Karen spoke gently, describing the sights they passed, hoping the familiarity would comfort him. "Look, Plankton," she pointed. "There's the jellyfish field. Do you remember when we used to get chased by jellyfish?" His eye swiveled to meet hers, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Remember," he said, his voice still mechanical. "Plankton remember jellyfish." It wasn't just the repetition anymore; he was connecting with her, with the world around him. It was a start, a sign that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way through this new, uncharted territory. Plankton's head lolled slightly to the side as the car bumped along the road, his breathing steady and even. Karen watched him out of the corner of her screen, the rhythmic motion of his chest reassuring her that he was still with her. Despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside her, she felt a strange peace settle over her. For the first time since the accident, she allowed herself to believe that they could navigate this new reality together. The rain had picked up, the drops splattering against the windshield like a symphony of tiny drums. The wipers kept a steady beat, matching the rhythm of her racing thoughts. Plankton's hand was still in hers, but it was limp now, his palm open and trusting. She squeezed it gently, trying to convey all the words she couldn't say. The Chum Bucket loomed in the distance, a beacon of their shared past and the uncertain future ahead. As they neared, Karen noticed the lights flickering in the lab, the remnants of their latest failed scheme. The sight brought a pang of sadness, but also a strange sense of nostalgia. Karen's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "We're almost there," she said, her voice a lifeline thrown into the silence. As the Chum Bucket came into view, Plankton's antennas twitched in his sleep. "We're home," Karen murmured, her voice barely above the patter of the rain. She parked the car and took a moment to collect herself before gently waking him. "Plankton, sweetie, we're here." His eye fluttered open, and he looked around the car with a slightly dazed expression. The neon lights of the Chum Bucket cast a warm glow, and Karen watched as the reality of their situation settled into his gaze. "Home," he said, the word falling out of his mouth like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. He sat up slowly, his movements stiff and deliberate, as if every action was a calculation. Karen helped him out of the car, the rain now a steady shower, plinking against the metal of the Chum Bucket. "Come on," she said softly, guiding him inside. "Let's get you into bed." Plankton followed her obediently, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. The lab was a mess, but Karen ignored it, leading him to their tiny living quarters. The space was cluttered with gadgets and gizmos, but there was a warmth to it, a testament to their life together. Plankton's eye scanned the room, taking in every detail, his brain trying to process the overwhelming stimuli. Karen noticed the way he flinched at the brightness of the lights and quickly dimmed them, creating a soothing ambiance. "Better?" she asked, her voice soft. Plankton nodded, his movements more deliberate now. He seemed to be focusing intently on her, trying to piece together the world around him. Karen helped him into their small, cozy bed, the blankets familiar and comforting. As she tucked him in, she noticed his eye fixate on a book on the floor. "It's ok," she whispered, plucking it up and placing it on the nightstand. "We can clean up tomorrow." Plankton lay still, his gaze now on the ceiling, tracing the patterns of the tiles above. Karen sat beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "Is there anything you need?" she asked, her voice a gentle ripple in the quiet. "Need... to... understand," he repeated, the words a comforting mantra in the silence. Karen nodded, stroking his antennae. "I'll be here to help you, Plankton." The doctor's words replayed in her head. Autism wasn't a weakness, but a different way of experiencing the world. A world now filled with sensory overload for Plankton. She made a mental note to dim the lab lights and reduce noise levels. "Karen," he said, the word a question. "What... happened?" The palilalia had shifted from a mere repetition to a quest for knowledge. Karen took a deep breath. "You had an accident, Plankton," she explained, her voice calm and steady. "But we're going to figure this out together." Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his eye flitting from tile to tile as if the answers lay in their pattern. "Accident," he murmured, the word tumbling through his thoughts. Karen nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth. "Yes, my love. You had an accident. But we're here now, and we're going to get through this." Plankton's eye searched hers, his voice a metronome of uncertainty. "Get... through... this." The words hung in the air, a question wrapped in a statement. "Through... this." Karen ached as she nodded, her voice a gentle caress. "Yes, Plankton. Together." Her hand reached out to cover his, her touch a silent promise. "We'll face each day as it comes." For a long moment, Plankton was silent, his gaze still trapped by the ceiling tiles. Then, his eye swiveled back to her, his voice a whisper of curiosity. "Together," he echoed, the word now a declaration. "We'll get through this together." Karen felt a tear slide down as she nodded, her smile a fragile thing. "Yes, Plankton, we will." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, his skin cool and clammy against her lips. His antennae twitched, and she knew he felt the warmth of her affection, even if he couldn't express it in the way she was used to. The next day dawned with a gentle glow, the sun peeking through the blinds of the Chum Bucket's living quarters. Karen woke up with a start, the events of the previous day crashing over her like a wave. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to hope it was all just a terrible dream. But the sight of Plankton's still form beside her, his breathing steady but different, brought reality back in a rush. They had a routine to maintain, a life to live despite the monumental shift in their world. Karen slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and began the day's tasks. She knew that Plankton would wake soon, his mind likely already racing. The lab was a chaos of wires and gadgets, but she had a plan. Starting with the lights, she adjusted each one to a gentle glow, reducing the visual assault that could overwhelm him. Then, she moved on to the sounds, taping foam pads to the doors and machines to muffle the cacophony. It was a small change, but it was a step to making the environment more comfortable for his now sensitive senses. Karen knew the kitchen would be the next battleground. Plankton's love for the Krabby Patty had always been a source of both frustration and motivation. But now, the thought of the complex flavors and textures could be a sensory nightmare for him. She decided to start with simple, plain foods, things she knew he enjoyed before his tastes had become so singular. As she sliced a cucumber into thin, uniform pieces, she heard his footsteps approaching. The tap-tap-tap of his feet on the metal floor was a sound she could set her clock to, yet now it seemed foreign, a reminder of the autistic world he now inhabited. "Good morning," Karen called out, forcing cheer into her voice. Plankton's eye swiveled towards her, his movements jerky as he navigated the now-familiar space. "Good... morning," he responded, each word a deliberate choice. Karen placed the cucumber slices on a plate and slid it towards him, watching as his gaze flitted from one to the next, studying them before making a selection. The sight was both heartbreaking and fascinating, a window into his new reality. As they sat together at their tiny kitchen table, Plankton took a small, tentative bite, his face scrunching up as he chewed. Karen held her breath, waiting for his reaction. After a long moment, he nodded. "Good," he said simply, his voice still flat. Karen swelled with pride and sadness. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. They would find their way through this, one bite at a time.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GEP7KkaWcAALSij?format=png&name=small

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i (Autistic author) "You know, Shel, just put yourself out there. You think to much! Just steal a patty from the krusty krab, and bring it back. No inventions, just believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says. Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition often outstripped his grasp, took a deep breath and nodded. It was a simple enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting ingenious contraptions and elaborate schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret formula. Yet here he was, standing in the shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth for any signs of movement. Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her frustration building. Meanwhile, Plankton took a final shaky breath and slid open the kitchen window, his heart racing. The scent of greasy fryers and salty ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached out, his tiny hand trembling, and snatched the Krabby Patty that lay unguarded on the counter. With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's confidence grew. He had done it; the secret was within his grasp! He turned to leave, but his elation was cut short when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze. Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was quick. He dashed under the cash register, the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like a football player crossing the finish line. "You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs was persistent, his claws snapping shut just millimeters from Plankton's antennae. With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy metal contraption off its stand. Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and the cash register came down on him like a guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the kitchen, and the Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp. Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. The impact had been tremendous, and for a moment, he lay dazed and defeated. The cash register's heavy weight had not only knocked him out cold but also left a sizable dent in the floorboards. Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic. as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just as she was about to storm inside, she hears the cash register, which hit Plankton's head. Peering in she saw Plankton lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with panic. Karen opens the door and goes to him. "Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, voice shaking the very foundation of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's eye closed, and his body was completely still. The Patty lay forgotten. Panic set in, and she began to pat his face. "Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing through the deserted kitchen. She knew that Plankton could be dramatic, but this was unlike him. He'd always bounced back from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a bruised ego. There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of desperation and fear. She knew she had to do something, and fast. But what? Her medical expertise was limited to patching up her husband's bruises from past failed schemes, not dealing with a concussion from a cash register to the head. She then managed to scoop up her unconscious husband and sprinted to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. Once inside the hospital, she explained what happened with the cash register. "We'll do a brain scan." They said. Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed. Finally a doctor approached with a solemn expression. "The brain scan results are in." Karen nodded for him to go on. "It seems your husband has suffered significant brain damage from impact," the doctor continued, fidgeting with a clipboard. "The good news is that he will wake up, but... your husband has experienced severe brain trauma. While he will regain consciousness, it appears that he may have developed permanent autism." "What does that mean?" she managed to whisper. The doctor explained that while Plankton would still be able to talk and/or communicate, his interactions and reactions to sensory would be significantly affected. "But he'll still be the same Plankton?" The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. His personality, his memories, they should all be intact. But his ability to process, to understand and respond appropriately... those might be altered. It's a complex condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go home whence he wakes up." Karen nodded numbly, mind racing with the implications. As she sat by Plankton's bedside the hospital lights flickered, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was the only company she had. The quiet was broken her husband's eye fluttering open. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the trauma. Her heart leaped at the sound, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm here," she said, her voice cracking. "How do you feel?" Plankton's gaze darted around the room. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and fear. "You're at the hospital, sweetie," Karen replied, voice gentle and soothing. "You had hit your head on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." Karen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you." Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, voice sounding distant and confused. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at his brain like a thousand tiny needles. "What happened to me?" he asked, voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath preparing herself to explain the gravity of the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and now, the doctor says you have... acquired a neurodisability." Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... what?" he repeated. Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's like your brain is wired differently now. You might see things, hear things, feel things more intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand people, or process differently." "Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice barely a whisper. "No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not broken. You're just... different. And we'll figure this out together."

Can Brain Damage Cause Autism? Research exploring the potential link between autism and brain damage has yielded mixed results. While some studies suggest a possible association between the two, others indicate that brain damage alone is not a direct cause of autism. Ruben Kesherim November 1, 2023 Understanding Autism and Brain Damage To fully comprehend the potential link between autism and brain damage, it is essential to understand the individual components involved. This section will provide an overview of autism, brain damage, and explore the connection between the two. What is Autism? Autism, also known as Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), is a complex neurodevelopmental condition that affects social interaction, communication, and behavior. People with autism may exhibit a wide range of symptoms, including difficulties in social interactions, repetitive behaviors, and sensory sensitivities. Autism is believed to have a strong genetic component, although the exact cause remains largely unknown. What is Brain Damage? Brain damage refers to any injury or harm to the brain that disrupts its normal functioning. It can occur as a result of various factors, including accidents, infections, strokes, tumors, and traumatic brain injuries (TBI). Brain damage can lead to a wide range of cognitive, physical, and behavioral impairments, depending on the location and severity of the injury. The Link Between Autism and Brain Damage Research exploring the potential link between autism and brain damage has yielded mixed results. While some studies suggest a possible association between the two, others indicate that brain damage alone is not a direct cause of autism. It is important to note that autism is a complex condition with multiple contributing factors, and brain damage might be just one of them. Case studies and findings have provided insights into individuals who experienced brain damage and subsequently displayed autistic-like symptoms. However, such cases are relatively rare, and the exact mechanisms underlying the development of autism after brain damage remain unclear. Understanding the relationship between autism and brain damage requires further research and exploration. It is essential to consult healthcare professionals and specialists to obtain accurate and personalized information regarding specific cases. Can Brain Damage Cause Autism? The relationship between brain damage and autism has been a topic of interest and research. While autism is a developmental disorder characterized by challenges in social communication and interaction, brain damage refers to any injury or trauma to the brain. In this section, we will explore the research and findings that shed light on the potential link between brain damage and autism. Exploring the Research Research examining the connection between brain damage and autism has provided valuable insights into the complex nature of the disorder. While it is clear that not all individuals with brain damage develop autism, some studies suggest that there may be a correlation between the two. One line of research suggests that neurological damage can lead to the development of autistic symptoms in some individuals. This damage can occur before, during, or after birth, and it can be caused by various factors such as genetic mutations, infections, or trauma. Case Studies and Findings Case studies have played a crucial role in understanding the relationship between brain damage and autism. These studies provide detailed accounts of individuals who have experienced brain damage and subsequently developed autistic symptoms. While case studies offer valuable insights, they are limited in generalizability and cannot determine causation. Additionally, research has identified specific brain regions that may be implicated in the development of autism after brain damage. For example, damage to the prefrontal cortex or the amygdala has been associated with the emergence of autistic traits. However, it is important to note that brain damage alone does not always result in autism, and the relationship between the two is complex and multifaceted. While the research provides some insights into the potential link between brain damage and autism, it is crucial to acknowledge that not all individuals with brain damage develop autism, and not all individuals with autism have experienced brain damage. The relationship between the two is influenced by various factors such as the timing, severity, and location of the brain damage, as well as individual differences and genetic factors. As the understanding of autism and brain damage continues to evolve, further research is needed to unravel the intricacies of this complex relationship. It is important to consult with healthcare professionals who specialize in autism and brain injury to receive accurate assessments, diagnoses, and appropriate interventions for individuals affected by these conditions. Factors Influencing Autism after Brain Damage While the relationship between autism and brain damage is complex, several factors can influence the development of autism following brain damage. Understanding these factors can provide valuable insights into the connection between the two. Timing and Severity of Brain Damage The timing and severity of brain damage play a crucial role in whether autism may develop as a result. Research suggests that brain damage occurring early in development, particularly during the prenatal period or early infancy, may have a higher likelihood of leading to autism. The developing brain is highly vulnerable during these critical periods, and any disruptions or abnormalities can impact neurodevelopment and contribute to the development of autism. Furthermore, the severity of the brain damage can influence the likelihood of autism. More severe brain injuries, such as those caused by traumatic brain injury or certain genetic conditions, may increase the risk of developing autistic traits or behaviors. However, it is important to note that not all individuals with brain damage will develop autism, and the relationship between brain damage and autism is not fully understood. Location of Brain Damage The specific location of brain damage can also influence the development of autism. Different areas of the brain are responsible for various functions, and damage to certain regions may result in specific challenges or symptoms associated with autism. For example, damage to the frontal lobe or areas involved in social communication may increase the likelihood of social and communication difficulties characteristic of autism. Each case of brain damage is unique, and the location and extent of the damage can vary. Therefore, it is essential to consider the individual circumstances and consult with medical professionals to assess the potential impact on autism development. Individual differences and genetic factors can significantly impact the manifestation of autism following brain damage. Each person's genetic makeup and predisposition to autism can influence how they respond to brain damage and whether they develop autistic traits. It is important to recognize that brain damage alone does not cause autism in every case, and genetic factors can interact with brain damage to influence the outcome. Research suggests that individuals with certain underlying genetic vulnerabilities, such as specific gene mutations or genetic syndromes, may be more likely to develop autism after brain damage. Genetic testing and evaluation can provide valuable insights into these individual differences and help guide intervention strategies and support. Understanding the factors that influence autism after brain damage is a complex and ongoing area of research. It is important to consult with healthcare professionals who specialize in neurological conditions and developmental disorders to gain a comprehensive understanding of the unique circumstances and potential implications. Differentiating Autism from Other Conditions When exploring the relationship between brain damage and autism, it's important to understand how autism spectrum disorder (ASD) differs from acquired autism. While both conditions may share certain characteristics, there are distinct factors that set them apart. Autism Spectrum Disorder vs. Acquired Autism Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a neurodevelopmental condition that typically emerges early in childhood. It is characterized by persistent challenges in social interaction, communication, and restricted or repetitive behaviors. ASD is considered a lifelong condition that affects individuals across various domains of functioning. Acquired autism, on the other hand, refers to the development of autistic symptoms following brain damage, often resulting from injury or disease. This form of autism is not present from birth but emerges after a specific incident or medical condition.

COMPUTER SENSORS i * "Karen!" Hanna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Karen in a warm embrace. "You made it!" Karen beamed. "Is the husband home?" Hanna asked, glancing around. "In our bedroom," Karen answers. "I don't think you've met!" Hanna followed Karen through the hallway. She'd heard of Karen's husband, Plankton, but had never formally met each other. Inside, Plankton sat on the edge of the bed. "Plankton, this is my friend Hanna," Karen announced, screen sparkling with excitement. Plankton looked up. He hadn't been expecting company, especially not someone so bubbly and vibrant. "Oh, Plankton," Hanna gushed, reaching out to him. She was a hugger, and she didn't hold back. She enveloped him. Plankton stiffened. It was... overwhelming. "It's so nice to finally meet you," Hanna said, her voice thick with sincerity. Hanna, ever the social butterfly, didn't seem to notice his discomfort. She plopped down on the bed beside him, her energy not even slightly dampened. "So, what do you guys have planned for the evening?" she asked, screen bright with excitement. "Well, we were just going to order in and watch a movie," Karen replied, shooting Plankton a knowing smile. She knew he liked his quiet evenings. "A movie night, huh?" Hanna clapped her hands together. "What's the film? I can stay and join!" Plankton wasn't one for sharing his personal space, especially with someone he just met. The bedroom was his sanctuary, a place of solitude where he could escape the world and be himself. Plankton managed a tight smile, his heart sinking. He wasn't in the mood for a romantic comedy, let alone one with Hanna's constant commentary and unbridled laughter. Karen quickly interjected. "Actually, Hanna, Plankton had his heart set on a sci-fi marathon tonight. You know, his usual Friday night routine." "Oh, I totally get it," she said, patting him. Plankton stiffened at her touch, his eye widening slightly. "Oooh, I know just the thing!" she exclaimed, jumping up and talking fast. "Karen, you won't believe this but I've got a DVD of 'Galactic Hearts' in my bag. It's got a bit of everything: romance, action, and a side of existential dread. Perfect for a Friday night in, right?" Plankton sighed inwardly. He knew he'd have to sit through it, if only to keep the peace. "Alright," he said, his voice tight. "Let's give it a go." With a resigned sigh, he trudged out to the kitchen to grab some popcorn and drinks. When he returned, Hanna had already claimed the spot beside him, leaving him no choice but to sit next to her, so he did, for Karen. The movie started, and Hanna was immediately engrossed, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. Plankton, on the other hand, felt like he was in an alien world of his own. Every time the romantic tension on screen built up, she would lean over and whisper something to Karen, who would giggle in response. The constant movement and noise were making his skin crawl. As the film went on, Hanna grew more and more absorbed in the love story unfolding before them. At one particularly dramatic scene, she reached over and grabbed Plankton's arm. "Oh, isn't this just the most romantic thing you've ever seen?" She gave him a squeeze not realizing the discomfort she was causing him. "Look at those stars," she whispered leaning closer. "It's just like they're reaching out to each other, isn't it?" Plankton shifted. He'd never been one for public displays of affection, and Hanna's affection was uncharted territory. He gently extracted his hand, placing it awkwardly on his lap. "I s'pose," he murmured, trying to keep his voice neutral. time she leaned in to whisper something to Karen, she brushed against him, sending a shiver down his spine. The movie's soundtrack swelled with a sappy love theme, and Hanna threw her arm around both their shoulders. Plankton stiffened. The room felt suddenly too warm, too small. He'd never been one for affection, especially not from someone he'd just met, and Hanna's touch was suffocating him. Her arm remained draped around his shoulders, her grip tightening every time the couple on-screen shared a tender moment. He tried to focus on the plot, but it was difficult with Hanna's sudden exclamations and loud sighs punctuating the silence. Karen seemed to be enjoying it, though, and he didn't want to spoil the evening. So, he sat, endured, and waited for the credits to roll. As the movie progressed, Hanna grew bolder with her displays of affection. She'd lean in close, her shoulder pressing into his, and whisper her predictions for the plot. He glanced at Karen, hoping for a reprieve, but she was caught up in the moment. Plankton sighed and turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the heat building in him. Hanna's hand found its way to Plankton's shoulder again. This time, she didn't let go. He cleared his throat, trying to subtly shift his body away from her touch, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weight of her arm and the way she kept brushing against him. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, begging for the solitude he craved. Hanna let out a contented sigh, her grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening involuntarily. He flinched, and she finally looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "It's nothing," Plankton said, his voice tight. Hanna looked at him. "Oh, I get it," she said, her hand moving from his shoulder to give his knee a comforting pat. "Sometimes romantic scenes can be too much, huh?" Plankton nodded stiffly. Then, Hanna leaned over and whispered, "You know Plankton you're not so bad for a guy who pretends not to like romance." She elbows him, her touch playful and teasing. Plankton's eye widened, his heart racing faster than the spaceship on the screen. He tried to laugh it off, his voice strained. He tried to keep his expression neutral. She leaned in closer, her arm now looped around his. "I think you're secretly a softy." Plankton's discomfort grew. He swallowed hard, his eye darting to Karen for help, but she was too lost in the film to notice his distress. He cleared his throat again, trying to be subtle, but they're oblivious. Karen looked over at her husband, her smile fading slightly as she noticed his rigid posture. She knew he wasn't a fan of the film, but she didn't realize Hanna's personality was making him so uncomfortable. Hanna jumped up from the couch. "Oh my gosh, you guys," she exclaimed a little too loud, her screen bright with excitement. "That was the best movie ever!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Karen couldn't help but laugh. "You really liked it?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Liked it?" Hanna repeated, her voice incredulous. "I'm in love with it!!" Her exuberance was palpable, but Plankton remained silent. He felt a mix of relief that the movie was over and dread for whatever might come next. Hanna, noticing his lack of response, turned to him with a grin. "What did you think, Plankton?" Plankton felt uncomfortable under her gaze. "It's just not really my genre," he said, his voice a touch defensive. Hanna's smile didn't falter. "Oh, come on," she said, nudging him playfully. "Admit it, you were totally rooting for them in the end." "Oh, I was," Plankton said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "I was just hoping the asteroid might hit the spaceship first." Karen couldn't help but laugh, seeing the playful banter between her friend and her husband. "Ok ok," she said, standing up and stretching. "I think we've had enough romance for one night. How about we switch gears and play a board game?" Hanna bounced, her energy unflagging. "Perfect! What do you have?" Plankton started to feel dizzy. "I'll grab something," he said, his voice tight. He needed to get away, to regain some semblance of control over the situation. He retreated to the bedroom, going on his bed. ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ *

COMPUTER SENSORS iii ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * Slowly, Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he looked up at Karen. "You ok?" she asked softly, her hand still on his shoulder. Plankton took a deep breath and nodded, eye still clouded with the haze of overstimulation. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Just needed a... a moment." Karen leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I know," she said, her voice filled with love and understanding. "I'm sorry I didn't catch on sooner. Hanna's a good person. She just didn't understand." Hanna returned with an armful of board games, her screen searching the room for Plankton. She saw him on the bed. "Look what I found!" she said, her voice cheerful but cautious. Plankton looked up at her, his gaze still hazy. "Films," he says. "Yeah," Hanna said, her voice hopeful. "I figured it might be a good way to keep things low-key after the movie." Karen looked at her with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Hanna," she said. "That's really thoughtful of you." "How about 'Molecule Madness'?" she suggested, her voice still tentative. "It's a science-themed strategy show. I remember Plankton mentioning he likes science." Karen nodded, her eyes lighting up. "That sounds perfect," she said, her hand sliding from Plankton's shoulder to give him a gentle pat. Karen watched the exchange, her heart swelling with love for both of them. "You're doing great, Hanna," she said, her voice gentle. "Just remember, it's ok to ask questions. And Plankton, it's ok to tell if you need more space." Hanna made sure to keep the volume low and the lights dimmed, and she sat a respectful distance away, giving him the space he needed. The show played out, a gentle narrative that neither of them had to fully engage with, the perfect backdrop to their quiet evening. And Plankton's breathing evened out. As the show went on, Plankton began to relax further, loosening his grip on the couch cushions as he felt more restful. It's late by the time the show finished. Hanna looked over at Plankton, who had slumped into the couch, curled loosely around a cushion. His eye was closed, and his breathing was slow and even. She realized he had fallen asleep. Carefully, she stood up and turned off the TV, the sudden silence feeling vast after the muted chuckles of the sitcom. She grabbed a blanket from the arm chair and draped it over him, taking a moment to appreciate the peacefulness that had settled over the room. Later, Karen appeared in the doorway. "Is everything ok?" she says rounding the corner. Hanna glanced over at Plankton, still loosely gripping the couch cushion, breathing deep and even. "I think he's asleep," she whispered, smiling softly. Karen nodded, walking over to the couch. She gently stroked his antennae, her touch light as a feather. "It's been a long day for him," she murmured, her voice filled with concern and love. "It's been a long day for him," she says. "Why don't you crash on the other couch?" Hanna nods, the weight of the evening's events settling in. She looks over at Plankton who's snoring softly. The next morning, she wakes up early to find Karen making coffee in the kitchen. The peaceful scene contrasts with the previous evening's tension, and they exchange greetings, acknowledging the quiet morning. The smell of breakfast starts to fill the room. Plankton stirs slightly, his antennae twitching in his sleep. Hanna's hoping she hadn't disturbed him. But his breathing remains even, and he settles back in to a peaceful slumber. Karen brings over a tray with a steaming cup of tea for Plankton and sits beside him. "Hey," Karen whispers, stroking his arm gently. Plankton's eye opens slowly, focusing on her. He blinks a few times, looking around. "What time is it?" he murmurs. "Morning," Hanna says, her voice soft. "Do you want to sit up?" Karen quickly moves to grab a pillow and a blanket, placing them around his shoulders. "Thanks," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. They share a peaceful moment, with Plankton opening up about his preferences, such as enjoying puzzles and cooking, which offer him control over his sensory environment. This exchange signifies a step towards rebuilding their relationship on more empathetic and understanding terms. Hanna nods, taking a bite of her own pancake. "That makes sense," she murmurs. "I can see how that would be helpful." Hanna shares her passion for photography. Plankton shows interest and offers a thoughtful comparison to his own need for control, suggesting a shared understanding is growing between them. This conversation deepens their bond and shows a shift to mutual respect and appreciation. "Maybe you can show me some of your work sometime." "I'd love that," Hanna says, her heart warming at his genuine interest. "And maybe you can teach me more about molecular gastronomy?" Plankton's eye lights up. "Really?" "Yeah," Hanna says, grinning. "I've always wanted to learn more about it." Plankton perks up a little. "Well, if you're serious," he says, "I'd be happy to teach you some basics." Hanna nods eagerly. "I'd love that," she says. "It seems like a great way to combine science and cooking." "It is," Plankton agrees, a hint of excitement in his voice. "It's all about understanding the molecular structure of food and how it interacts with other substances. It can be quite fascinating." Karen smiles at the two of them, sipping her coffee. "I'm going to leave you two to your nerdy breakfast chat," she says, standing up and taking her plate to the sink. "I've got some work to catch up on." Hanna turns back to Plankton. "So, molecular gastronomy," she says, trying to keep her voice calm despite her excitement. "Where do we start?" Plankton proposes they start with a simple molecular gastronomy project, creating balsamic vinegar caviar. Hanna is fascinated by the precision and science involved. As they work together in the kitchen, their conversation naturally flows into discussions of their shared love for creativity and art. Through this collaborative activity, they continue to build their bond, finding common interests and growing more comfortable with each other's company. As they continue to cook, Plankton's enthusiasm for molecular gastronomy becomes infectious. Hanna is surprised at how much she enjoys the meticulousness of the process, and Plankton seems just as surprised at how quickly she catches on. They laugh together as they plate their creations, the balsamic vinegar caviar looking like a miniature galaxy on a white plate. The rest of the day unfolds in a similar fashion, with Plankton introducing Hanna to more of his hobbies and passions. They experiment with different cooking techniques, and Hanna even takes out her camera to capture some of the more visually stunning dishes they make. Plankton, usually so guarded about his personal space, allows her to hover closer offering suggestions on lighting and composition. As the evening approaches, Karen emerges from her office, looking surprised and impressed by the culinary masterpieces scattered across the counter. As the evening wears on, they move into the living room. The three of them sit. Karen pulls out a board game she thinks Plankton might enjoy. Plankton tenses slightly, but he nods, willing to give it a try. As the game progresses, Plankton's competitive streak emerges. He's strategic and thoughtful, his moves deliberate. Hanna can see the way his mind works, piecing together the puzzle of the game with the same precision he uses to navigate his sensory world. It's fascinating and a little intimidating, but she's determined to keep up.

Similarities and differences while asd and acquired autism may exhibit overlapping symptoms, there are notable differences between the two: aspect autism spectrum disorder (asd) acquired autism (after birth) cause no identifiable cause, likely a combination of genetic and environmental factors results from brain damage due to injury, illness, or medical condition onset typically apparent in early childhood evident after brain damage occurs developmental delays often accompanied by developmental delays in language, motor skills, and cognitive abilities developmental delays may or may not be present, depending on the individual severity ranges from mild to severe, with varying levels of support needed severity can vary based on the extent and location of brain damage treatment treatment focuses on providing support, therapies, and interventions tailored to individual needs treatment involves addressing the underlying brain damage and may include therapies to manage symptoms Soit is crucial to note that acquired autism resulting from brain damage is relatively rare compared to asd, which is believed to have a more complex etiology involving a combination of genetic and environmental factors. The presence of brain damage alone does not necessarily lead to the development of autism symptoms. If you suspect that brain damage may have contributed to the development of autism symptoms, it is essential to consult with medical professionals and specialists who can provide a comprehensive evaluation. They can help differentiate between asd and acquired autism, ensuring appropriate interventions and support are provided. Understanding the distinctions between these conditions is crucial for accurate diagnosis, effective treatment, and support for individuals with autism. By recognizing the unique characteristics of both asd and acquired autism, professionals and caregivers can provide appropriate interventions and care tailored to the specific needs of each individual.

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY i (Autistic author) Karen's husband, Plankton, was arguing with Mr. Krabs as usual. They've had their fair share of disputes over the years, but this one seemed to be escalating fast. Without warning, Mr. Krabs swung the stove from his kitchen with all his might. It connected with a sickening thud against Plankton's head. Karen gasped as her husband crumpled to the ground. Plankton's eye had rolled back and closed, his body going still as Mr. Krabs left back. Karen knelt beside Plankton and gently tapped his cheek. "Wake up," she murmured, voice trembling. No response. She tried again, her voice a little louder. "Honey, can you hear me?" Plankton's eye remained closed, his antennae limp. Panic began to creep in. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. What if his tiny brain had been damaged? What if he was in a coma? What if he never woke up? She cradled his minuscule form. The room grew silent as the gravity of the situation sank in, willing Plankton to stir. A tear trickled down her screen. Karen felt for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. She let out a sigh of relief and picked his tiny body up, cradling him carefully. "I've got to get him to a doctor," she thought. She held Plankton's hand as they performed a brain scan. Karen sat by her husband's side as the machines around Plankton beeped and whirred. The sterile smell of the hospital filled, and the cold white walls seemed to press in around them. Plankton's lying still on the hospital bed. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, and various tubes connected him to monitors that displayed a symphony of lines and numbers, none of which meant anything to her. She squeezed his hand gently, willing him to wake up. The doctor walked into the room, his lab coat fluttering slightly as he moved. He held a clipboard carefully in his tentacles, studying the information with a furrowed brow. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his voice soft, "We've finished scans. The good news is that it's not life- threatening. However, we've noticed some sustained atypical brain activity." Karen's eyes widened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. The doctor sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Autism. His behavior may change. He might become more focused on his routines, have difficulty with social interactions, and exhibit sensory sensitivity. It's permanent, and no cure. We expect him to wake up soon. We'll ask him some questions to assess and then you can take him home." Karen felt her heart drop. She knew about autism, had read about it in magazines, but never thought it would affect her own family. The doctor left the room, and she was alone with her thoughts, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall as they remove the bandage. The hours ticked by in agonizing slowness as she sat there, praying for him to wake up. The only sounds were the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled conversations from the hallway. Finally, Plankton's eyelid fluttered. He groaned softly, and his hand twitched in hers. Karen leaned in, hope surging through her. "Plankton?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she smiled through her tears. "I'm here," she said, voice shaky. "You're in the hospital, but you're ok." Plankton's eye opened, squinting in the bright lights. He looked around the room, confusion etched on his tiny face. Slowly, his gaze landed on Karen. "What happened?" he croaked, his voice weak. "Mr. Krabs hit you with a stove," Karen explained, her voice a mix of relief and sadness. "They diagnosed you with acquired Autism." The doctor approached with a gentle nod. "Plankton, can you tell me your name?" he asked, ready to jot down notes. Plankton's eye searched the room, finally settling on Karen. "Sheldon Jay Plankton." Karen's grip on his hand tightened offering silent encouragement. The doctor nodded and proceeded with questions. "Tell me when you're born?" "July 31, 1999 10:16.08 am ET!" Karen felt a twinge of pride at her husband's precise answer. The doctor nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Tell me more about yourself.." "More about yourself." Plankton echoed. The doctor's offering a gentle smile. "Echolalia. It's a trait that's common in individuals with autism. It can help him process information. Well Plankton has no need for therapy, yet you may want to adjust your daily lives to accommodate. You're free to go!" The drive back to the Chum Bucket was silent, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on Karen's shoulders. He was quiet too, his eye fixed on the passing scenery. He didn't seem to notice the difference in himself, but Karen knew their lives were changed. Once home, Karen helped Plankton into his favorite chair, surrounded by his inventions and gadgets. The room was a mess, but it was his sanctuary, and she didn't want to disturb it. He seemed more at ease, his eye flicking from one object to another with a sense of familiarity. Would Plankton be the same? Would he still laugh at her jokes, or get angry at the Krabby Patty secret formula? Plankton remained silent, his gaze still locked on his surroundings. Karen felt a pang of worry. Would his obsessive nature become more pronounced? "It's getting late, Plankton." Karen's voice was soft as she guided him to their bedroom. He followed without protest, his movements mechanical. She helped him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin with a gentle tuck. Plankton lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a swirl of confusion. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "Stay, Karen stay." He says. Karen nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Of course, I'll stay," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. She took his hand again, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew she'd be by his side. As Plankton's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep, Karen sat there, watching him. She noticed how his grip on her hand had loosened, but didn't dare move. The next day, Karen woke before Plankton did. She hovered over him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. How was she going to wake him up without startling him? She knew that sudden noises could be overwhelming for him now. Karen took a different approach. She stroked his arm with a feather-light touch. His eye brow flinched. Next, she tried speaking his name, starting with a whisper and gradually getting louder. "Plankton," she called, "It's time to wake up." His eyelid twitched, and he blinked his eye open. He looked around. "Karen?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "Good morning, honey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton sat up slowly, his antennae twitching as he took in his surroundings. "Different," he murmured, rubbing his temple. "We're home, Plankton. Remember what happened?" He nodded, his eye glazed over for a moment. "Krabs. The stove." "Yes, but you're ok now," Karen reassured, stroking his cheek with her finger. Plankton nodded again, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen noticed that his movements were more deliberate, his gaze more intense. She decided to keep things simple to avoid overwhelming him with too much information at once. "Let's get breakfast," she suggested. Plankton followed her into the kitchen, his steps slower than usual. The clanking of pans and the sizzle of oil had always been a familiar symphony in their home, but today it felt alien, like a disturbance to his newly heightened senses. Karen moved around the kitchen with precision, keeping the noises to a minimum. As she prepared their meal, Plankton stood by the counter, his gaze fixed. "Breakfast is ready," she said, sliding a plate of chum flapjacks in front of him. The smell usually brought him joy, but today it was overwhelming. Plankton took a step back. Karen's smile faltered, realizing she would have to adjust their meals. "Would you like something else?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody. Plankton nodded, his gaze not leaving the plate. "Different," he whispered. Karen knew she had to find foods that wouldn't overstimulate. She placed the flapjacks aside and found a jar of pureed peas and plain yogurt. She hoped the blandness would be more soothing. Plankton's antennae twitched as he came closer. He stared at the bowl intently, then took a tentative spoonful. The texture was soothing, and the color was calming. He ate slowly, each bite measured and deliberate. Karen watched him with love and concern. She wanted to ask if he liked it, but she knew better than to interrupt his focus. Once Plankton had finished, he looked up at her with a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. It was the closest thing to praise she had heard from him since the incident. Karen cleared the table, her mind racing with questions about what the future held. How would Plankton's new autism affect their daily lives? "Now what would you like to do, Plankton?" She asks. He looks at her. "Read." The old spark seems to flicker back to life, albeit with a different intensity. Karen nods, leading him back to his lab. The room is a mess of wires and gadgets, but Plankton moves through it with purpose. He selects a book from the shelf, a manual on quantum physics that had been collecting dust. His gaze flits over the pages, absorbing the information with fervor. Karen watches him from a distance. This was her Plankton, but also new. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had always been intense, but now his focus was lasered in on the book, his mind racing through equations and theories. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning. Plankton didn't look up from his book, lost in a world of science and theories. Karen knew she had to let him be, to find his new normal.

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii (Autistic author) Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his grip on Plankton's wrists loosening. "What accident?" he asks, his voice filled with dread. Plankton's smile is gone, replaced by a look of sadness. "Head," he says, his voice a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He touches his forehead gently, his antennas drooping. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with realization, his grip on Plankton's wrists loosening entirely. "You got hurt?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "What happened?" Plankton nods, his antennas still drooping. Sponge Bob's confusion grows, his anger replaced with worry. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice softening. "What happened to your head?" Plankton's antennas twitch, his smile a distant memory. "Fall," he says, his voice a monotone. Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat. "You fell?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "When? How?" Plankton nods, his eye flickering with something akin to pain. "Recently," he says, his voice flat. "Head bad." Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock, his mind racing with questions. "You fell and hurt your head?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me?" Plankton's gaze drops to his book, his hands fluttering over the pages. "No tell," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "Shame." Sponge Bob's eyes fill with understanding, his anger evaporating like mist in the sun. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice soft. "You didn't have to keep this to yourself." Plankton's smile is a pale imitation of his usual self, his antennas still. "No good," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with worry as he tries to comprehend his friend's cryptic words. "You're not bad, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "You've just had an accident." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the book, his hands flapping over the pages. "No," he says, his voice a sad echo. "Head bad. Plankton bad." His body slumps, his usual vibrant energy dimmed by his distress. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with sadness as he tries to comfort his friend. "You're not bad, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You're just hurt right?" Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt," he echoes, his voice a monotone. "Inside head." He taps his forehead, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for understanding. "Grey matter. Neural pathways." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his confusion growing. "What do you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "What's going on with your brain?" Plankton's hand continues to tap his forehead, his voice detached. "Neurochemicals," he says, his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic connections. Autism." His smile is a mere memory, his eye glazed over with a faraway look. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his chest, his mind racing. "You're talking about your brain," he says, his voice tentative. "What's wrong with it?" Plankton's hand stops tapping, his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob. "Wiring," he says, his voice a monotone explanation. "Neuro- typical patterns disrupted affect the parts of brain when result in autism." His words are precise, his tone devoid of emotion. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with comprehension, his spongy heart sinking. "You're saying you have autism now?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton nods, his eye still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical divergence," he confirms, his voice still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic variance, myelination discrepancies." He speaks in a monotone, his words sounding rehearsed and mechanical. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart breaking for his friend. "What does that mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice shaking. "Does that mean you're not okay?" Plankton's gaze remains on the book, his hand tracing the spine. "Neuro-typical divergence," he repeats, his voice a flat recitation of medical terms. "Synaptic connections altered. Atypical neural patterns. Autism." He speaks as if recounting a scientific paper, his tone lacking any personal connection. "When hit head, damaged the myelination," he says, his hand continuing its mechanical movement against the book. "Myelination is the insulation around the axons that speeds up the nerve impulses made in a part of brain we call the cerebral cortex. My cerebral cortex now restricts, slows down impulses." Sponge Bob listens, his mind racing to keep up with Plankton's sudden shift in vocabulary. "But what does that mean?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "How'd the damage give you autism?" Plankton's hand stops its movement along the book. "Neurodivergence," he says, his voice a clinical recount. "My brain now operates outside typical parameters. Synaptic pruning, myelination patterns altered. Atypical neural networks formed." He speaks as if discussing a complex scientific experiment, his words a jumble of medical terminology that Sponge Bob barely understands. "Does that mean you're not okay?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with fear. Plankton's hand stills on the book, his gaze unfocused. "Functional diversity," he says, his voice a hollow echo of the medical lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence can lead to unique cognitive strengths, but also challenges." He taps the book, his antennas waving slightly. "My brain's wiring changed," he says, his voice a monotone. "Synaptic clefts widened, neurotransmitters less efficient. Restricted blood flow to temporal lobes." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of confusion and fear. "Does that mean you can't be... fixed?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennas twitch, his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix," he echoes, his voice a sad recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes. Rewire, adapt. But cerebral cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent." Sponge Bob's eyes are wide, his mind reeling with the complexity of Plankton's words. "But, Plankton," he says, his voice quivering. "What about the Krabby Patties? Your plans?" Plankton's gaze snaps up, his hands still. "No plans," he says, his voice a sad echo. "No more steal." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his heart racing. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?" he asks, his voice filled with hope and disbelief. Plankton's antennas droop, his hands flapping slightly. "No more schemes," he whispers, his voice a monotone. "No more steal." His eye meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of his old mischief briefly shining through. "But," he adds, his smile mischievous, "still have competitive spirit." His hands begin to flap with excitement. Sponge Bob's heart soars with relief, a smile spreading across his face. "So, you're still the same Plankton," he says, his voice filled with hope. "Just... different. Ok, cool!" Plankton nods, his smile a ghostly reflection of his usual self. "Different," he repeats, his voice a sad echo. "But still have friend?" His antennas wave slightly, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for reassurance. Sponge Bob's heart swells with affection. "Of course, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "We're still friends. Nothing can change that." He squeezes Plankton's shoulder, trying to convey his support.

"Hi, my boss Mr. Krabs told me I need to work on my people skills and to volunteer.." SpongeBob says in the surgery room before recognizing Plankton and Karen. Plankton lay on the operating table, a small tube delivering medicine that kept him asleep. Karen sat by him. "Plankton‽" "Plankton's had his wisdom teeth removed." She glanced at the sleeping Plankton with affection. Sponge Bob leaned closer. He poked Plankton gently. "Hey, Plankton; wake up, buddy!" No response. Plankton's breathing remained slow and even, the rhythm unchanged by Sponge Bob's nudges. Karen's robotic hand shot up to stop Sponge Bob's poking. "He's not going to wake up anytime soon, Sponge Bob. The anesthesia will wear off in a couple of hours," she explained in her usual monotone. Sponge Bob's bubbly demeanor deflated a bit. He had never seen Plankton so... peaceful. Usually the tiny villain was full of mischief and plotting his next Krabby Patty heist. But the sight of his arch-nemesis helpless and snoring? "Karen, do you think a little light chat would help him wake up?" "Sponge Bob, the purpose of anesthesia is to keep him unconscious during surgery and ensure a painless recovery. Your efforts are futile." Undeterred, Sponge Bob leaned in closer. "Come on, Plankton. Time to wakey-wakey!" He waved his hands in front of Plankton's face, creating a gentle breeze that tickled his antennae. Still, Plankton remained steadfast in his slumber, oblivious to the world around him. Karen sighed again, the closest she ever got to expressing exasperation. "As I said, Sponge Bob, he's under the effects of anesthesia. There's nothing you can do to wake him up." She went back to reading her magazine, the glow from her screen casting a soft blue light on her metallic features. Sponge Bob studied Plankton's sleeping features. His mouth was open just enough to reveal his top row of teeth, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a giggle when a small bubble of drool formed at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he mused aloud, "I never realized Plankton had such a... cute snoring sound." The statement hung in the air, and even the normally stoic Karen couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Cute is hardly the word I'd use," she murmured, but the warmth in her voice belied the affection she had for her partner. Sponge Bob's curiosity grew as he continued to gaze at the unconscious Plankton. He'd seen him in various states before—angry, plotting and occasionally defeated—but never so vulnerable. The sight was strange yet fascinating. He reached out and carefully wiped away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side, but he remained asleep. SpongeBob put his head back up on a pillow. Plankton's snores grew quieter as his head settled into the cushioned embrace. "Don't worry, Plankton," he whispered, patting the villain's arm gently. "I'll watch over you." Sponge Bob's curiosity grew stronger as he watched the drool form at the side of Plankton's mouth. He leaned in closer, studying the phenomenon. He'd never noticed Plankton drool before. "It's like a tiny river," he said to himself. What would happen if he tried to touch it? He tapped it lightly. It wobbled, bulging slightly before collapsing back into its original state. He poked the drool again. This time, it grew slightly larger before popping, leaving a tiny, wet splatter on the pillow. Plankton's snores grew louder for a moment, but didn't stir. Sponge Bob couldn't resist a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he's enjoying his nap," he whispered to Karen who remained engrossed in her magazine. The drool was fascinating—like a living organism, pulsating with every one of Plankton's breaths. He poked it again, gently this time. The drool grew larger, stretching out like a bubble of gum. It was almost mesmerizing. "I wonder if I can make it pop," he thought, eyes gleaming with child-like excitement. Slowly, Sponge Bob poked the drool bubble once more. It grew to the size of a marble before it burst with a tiny splat, splattering on to the pillow. Plankton's snoring remained undisturbed. Sponge Bob could see the light from the ceiling reflecting off the droplet's surface. He waited, the anticipation building, eyes fixed on the wobbling mass. At the last second, he poked it. The bubble popped with a sound that echoed through the quiet room. Plankton's snore caught in his throat for a split second, then resumed with renewed vigor. The splatter was more substantial this time, leaving a wet spot on the pillow. The sudden noise made Karen look up from her magazine. "What on earth are you doing, Sponge Bob?" she asked, voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Just... science," Sponge Bob said, his grin unabated. "I'm studying Plankton's snoring pattern... and drool." Karen rolled her digital eyes. "Fine. Just don't wake him. And for the love of Krabby Patties, please don't make a mess." She returned her focus to her magazine, seemingly unfazed by the sight of her arch-enemy playing with drool. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his eyes lighting up with newfound purpose. He decided to be more strategic in his scientific endeavor. He would need precision and timing. The drool bubble grew again, this time larger and more robust. Sponge Bob waited, his heart beating faster with every pulse of Plankton's snore. He took a deep breath, held it, and at the peak of the snore's crescendo, poked the bubble with a controlled flick. It exploded with a sound like a miniature water balloon, splattering across Plankton's cheek. The pillow was now a Jackson Pollock canvas of drool. Plankton's snoring hitched but he didn't wake. "Oops," Sponge Bob whispered, giggling quietly. He reached for a near by tissue to clean up the mess, his eyes glancing nervously at Karen. She peeked over her magazine, the corners of her robotic mouth curving upward slightly. "If you're going to play, at least be tidy," she said, voice a blend of reprimand and amusement. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course, Karen," he whispered back, dabbing at Plankton's cheek with the tissue. The drool was sticky and clung to the fabric but Sponge Bob managed to clean when Plankton's snoring hitched. This time, Plankton's eyes opened a crack, his single eyelid revealing a sliver of his iris before dropping shut again. "What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily. Sponge Bob froze, tissue in mid-air. "Oh nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just admiring your snoring." Plankton's eyelid quivered but remained shut. "Mmph." His mouth moved around the word. "Don't worry, buddy," Sponge Bob said softly patting Plankton's arm. "You're just resting. Nothing to worry about." The half-awake Plankton mumbled something unintelligible, and Sponge Bob took it as a sign to back off. He retreated to his chair, watching as Karen put down her magazine and began to fuss over Plankton, checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable. For once, he wasn't at odds with Plankton.

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░██████████ █████████████████▓████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░▒░░▒▒▓▒▒█████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▓█████████▒▒█████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒█▒▒██▓▒▒▒█▒▒█████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░▒█░▒██████▓▒▒█████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒░█▒▒███████▒▒█████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░▒▒█▒▒███▒▓██▒▒█████████ ██████████▒░░▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒░▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒█████████ ██████████▓█▓▓▒░░██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░█▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▒██▒▒█████████ ██████████░░░░░▒▒░█████████████████░░░░▒▓▓█████▓▒▒░░░██████████████████████████████████████████████████░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓██▒▒█████████ ██████████▓░░░░▒░▒███████████████░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░▒███████████████████████████████████████████████░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▓███▒▒█████████ ██████████▓░░░░▓░█░█████████████░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒░░██████████████████████████████████████████████░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░████▒▒█████████ ██████████░▒░░▒▓░▓░▓███████████▒█░░░░░▒░░▒░░▒▓▒░░█░░░░█░░██████████████████████████████████████████████░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░████▒▒█████████ █████████▒▒▓░░░░▒▒▒░████████████▒░░░░██▓█░█▒░░█░█░░░░░█▒░░█████████████████████████████████████████████░▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒████▒▒█████████ █████████▓█░▒░░▓█░█░███████████░▒░░░░█░█░▓███▓░█░░░░░░█░░██████████████████████████████████████████████░▒░░░░░▓▓░░░░▒██▓█▒▒█████████ ███████████░█░░░███░█████████████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░███████████████████████████████████████████████░▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▒█▒▒█████████ ███████████░█░░░░░░▓████░░░░░░████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒░▒▒░█▒▓░░▒▓▒█▒█▒▒█████████ ████████████░███████░▒░░█▒░▒░█░████▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▓███████▒░░░░▒░░█▒▒░░░░████████████████████████████░▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒█▒█▒▒█████████ ████████████▒██████░░▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓█░░█████░░▒░░░░▒▒░▒███████▓▓▓▓███████░░░███████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒█▒▓▒▒█████████ ███████▒░░░░░██████▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓█▓░░░██████░▓░░▓▒░▒███████░░▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░▒▒░▓░▓▓░░▒▓▒█▓█▒▒█████████ ███▒▓░▒▓█▒▓██▓▓██▓▒▒███▓▓██████░██████░█░█░░██████████░▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒█▓▓▒▒█████████ ██▒▒▒█▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒███████▓▒▒░████████████░█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▒▓█▒▒█▓▒▒▓█▓▓▒▒█████████ █▒▒█▓▒▒░▒░██▒▓▓▒▒█▒█▒▒▒█▒▓█▒▒█▓█▒██████░░░████████████░█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▓█▓▒▓████████▒▒▒█████████ █▒▓▓▓▒░▒░▒▓▒▓▒█▒▒██░▓▒▒▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒███░░██████████████░█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▓░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒██▓▓▓▒█████████▒█▒▒▒█████████ █▒█▒▓████▒▓▓▓▒█▒▒▒░░░▓▒▓░░░█▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒█████████████████░█▒█▒▒▒▒█░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒███▓▒▒█████████▒█▒▒▒█████████ █▒▒█▓▓▓█▒▒█▒█▓█▒█░░░░██░░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒████▓▒▓▒█████████████░█▒█▒▒▒▒░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒██▒█▒▒███████████▒▒▒█████████ █▓▒███▒▒▒▒▒▓█░█▒█░░░▓▒█░░▒░▒█▒▒▓▓█████▒█▒█████████████░█▒█▒▒▒█░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒██▒█▒██████████▓█▒▒▒█████████ █▓▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒█░░░▒██░░█▒██▒▒▒▓█▒█▓█▒░██████████████░█▒▓▒▒█░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▓██░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒██░▓▒██████████▒█▒▒▒█████████ ██▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▓▓█▒▓▒▒█░▓██░░▓▒██▒▒▒█▒▓▒▒█▓███████████████░█▒▓▒▓░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██░░░▒███▓░░░░▒█▒░░░█░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒█▓▒▒▒██████████▒█▒▒▓█████████ ██▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░▓▓█▓▒▒█▓░█▒▒░░░█▒█▒▒▒░░█▒░█████████████████░█▒▓▒▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒███░░░░░▓░░░░░▓░░░▒▒░░░░░▒░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒█▒▓▒███████████▒█▒▒██████████ ███▒▒▒█░░░░▓██▓▒▒░░░░░██░░░▒█▓▒▒▒█░░██████████████████░█▒▒▓░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░▓▓█▓░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█▒███████████▒█▒▒██████████ ███▒▒▓░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▓░░░▓▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓█████████████████░█▒█░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒▓▒▒▒▓░▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒█▒█▒███████████▒█▒▒██████████ ███▒▒▒▒███████▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒█████████████████████░██░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓░▓▒█░▒▓░▒░▒░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒███████████▓▓▒▒██████████ ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████████████░█░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒█▓▓▓█░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒█▒▒███████████▓▓▒▒▓█████████ ███▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▒█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████████████▓░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▓▒▒▓█▓▓▓█░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒████████████▓▓▒▒▓█████████ ████▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒░▒▒█░░▓█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████████████▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒░█░▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒█████████████▓█▒▒▒▒█████████ ████▒▒█▓▓▓█▒▒▓▓▒▒█████▓▓█▒▒▒▒█▒█▒███████████████████▓█░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░▒▒░▒▒░▒▒██▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓███████████▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓ ███▓▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▓▒█▒█████▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▓▒██████████████████████░░▓▓▒▒░░▓▒▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓██████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▓▒▒██ ████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒█████▓▓▓█▒▒▒▓▓▒█████████████████████░░▒▓▓▒▓░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒█▓ ████▒▒▓▓█▒▒▒█▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▒█▒▓▒▒▒▓████████████████████▒░▒▓█▒▓░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█░░▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▒▓▓██░▒▒█▒ ████▒▒██▒▒▒▒█▒▓░▓█▒▒▒██▓░█▒▒▓▒█▒████████████████████░░▒▓█▒▓░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█░░░░░░▓░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓ ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▒▒░▒▓█▒░▒▒░█▒████████████████████▒░▒▒█▒▓░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█▒▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░▒▒▓▓▓ ███▓░░░████▒▒▒▓█▓▒▓██▓▓█████▒▓▒▒████████████████████▒▒▒▒█▒▓░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█░░░░░░▓░░░░░▒░░▓▒▓▒▓ ███░░░░░░░░░▒░░░▒░░█▓▓▒▒█░░░░█▒█████████████████████▒▒▓▒█▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█░░▒░░░▒░░░░░▒░░█▒█▒▓ ████▓▒░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░▓▒█████████████████████▒▒▓▒█▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▓░░▓░▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒█▓▓█▒█▓▒ ███▓▓█▓▓▓▓█████████▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▒█▒▒█████████████████████▒▒▓▒█▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓█▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▓███████████████▓▒█▓▒ ███▓▓▓▓▓█▓█▓███▒██▒▒▒██▒███▒█▒▓█████████████████████▒▒▓▒██▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓████▓████▒▒ ███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒█▓▒▒▓▒▒█▒▒██████████████████████▒▒▓▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ █████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▓██████████████████████▓▓█▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓██▓░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒ █████▓▓███▓▓▓███████▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒██████████████████████▒▒█▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓██▓▒░░░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒ █████▓▓▓▓███▓▓██████▓██▒██▒██▓██████████████████████▒▒█▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒ ██████▓▓▓▒██▒██████▒██▒▒▓▒██████████████████████████▒▒█▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ██████▒▒▒▓▒▓███████████▓█▒█▒████████████████████████▒░▓▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒ █████▓███▒▒▒████████████▓▒▓█████████████████████████░▒▒████▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▓▓ ███████▒▓▒░██████████▓░▓██████████████████████████████▒▒██▒░▒░▒░▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓ ██████▒█▓█▓██████████▓▒██████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░░▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓ ██████░▓▓███████████████▓█▒████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓ ███████▒██████████▒▓░████░██████████████████████████████████████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓ █████▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒░░░▒░░░▒▒▒░░░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▓▓ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░░░▒░▒░░▒░▒██▒█▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷.𝟶𝟼ᴋ At the Neptune Medical Center, Karen parks the car and goes with her husband Plankton into the building after an injury to his antenna. "I still don't see why you didn't press charges against Krabs, Sheldon," Karen sighs, as they walk through the gleaming, sterile corridors of the medical center. "Karen I'm not gonna give him the satisfaction." Plankton's antenna now hangs limp and damaged. The doctor had assured him it was a simple repair job, yet Plankton's nerves were as frayed as the antenna itself. They enter the reception area, the automatic doors whispering shut behind them, as if sealing off the outside world's chaos. The smell of antiseptic fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of fear and hope. The receptionist, a young squid with a friendly smile, looks up from her computer screen. "Mr. Plankton, your appointment is with Dr. Marlin, the antenna specialist," she says, her tentacles typing efficiently. "You can go straight to the third floor, room 304." The elevator ride is silent, save for the rhythmic ding of each passing floor. Karen notices his distant gaze and squeezes his arm reassuringly. "You'll be fine, Sheldon," she whispers. Plankton nods. They arrive at room 304, and Karen opens the door, revealing a state-of-the-art examination room. Dr. Marlin, an octopus with a gleaming scalpel in one tentacle and a clipboard in another, looks up from his notes. "Ah, Mr. Sheldon Plankton, right on time," he says, his eight eyes blinking in unison. "I understand you've had a bit of an injury?" Plankton nods, his voice tight. "Krabs... he... snapped it." Dr. Marlin's tentacles twitch in concern. "Mr. Eugene Krabs, eh? He's had his share of accidents around here." He scribbles something on the clipboard. "Well, let's get you fixed up. I've seen worse, and you're in good hands." The doctor leads Plankton to the examination chair, which is surprisingly comfortable for someone so tiny. He adjusts the chair's height and angles the light to shine on the antenna. Plankton winces as the doctor gently prods the damaged area. "It's definitely snapped," Dr. Marlin says, his voice calm and professional. "But the good news is, it's not to far gone. We can repair it with a simple procedure." "You'll need to be under for this," he explains. "It's nothing to worry about. You'll be out Before you know it." Plankton's heart races as he lies back in the chair, the cold metal pressing against his back. He glances at Karen, who gives him a forced smile, her screen filled with concern. The doctor notices and pats his shoulder reassuringly. "It's just a little sleep," he says. "You'll be back in no time." Karen reaches for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. The anesthesiologist, a bluefish with a gentle demeanor, enters the room, pushing a trolley with a variety of bottles and tubes. She introduces herself as Nurse Bella and explains that she'll be administering the anesthesia for the surgery. Plankton swallows hard, eye darting from her to Karen's screen and back again. Karen's gaze follows the anesthesiologist, Nurse Bella, as she meticulously prepares. "Ready? Count as high as you can," she asks, her voice as soft as a lullaby. Plankton nods, his grip on Karen's hand tightening. "One... two... three..." Plankton's voice starts strong, but the medicine's effect begins to take hold. His eyelid grow heavy, and the numbers begin to slur. Karen watches as Plankton's count descends into a whisper. "Five... six... sev..." His tiny hand relaxes in hers, and his body goes slack. She watches the rise and fall of his chest slow as he succumbs to the anesthesia. Karen squeezes his hand one last time. The door to the exam room opens again, and Dr. Marlin's head pokes out. "Everything's gone well," Dr. Marlin says, peering over his mask. "We're to halt anesthesia." "You're okay," Karen whispers, her voice cracking. "You're okay." "He's doing great," the nurse whispers. "You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes they can hear you." Karen leans closer, her voice low and soothing. "Hey, Plankton, it's Karen. You're safe now. They've fixed your antenna. No more pain, okay?" Her thoughts are interrupted by a soft groan from the bed. Karen's screen snap to Plankton, who's beginning to stir under the blankets. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his arm. "You're safe." "K...Karen?" His eye opens. "Yes, it's me. You're okay, you're in the hospital. They've fixed your antenna." "Karen... antenna... Krabby Patty... wait, what?" He giggles, the words jumbling together in a way that makes no sense. Plankton's eye widen with childlike excitement. "Oh, right! The antenna!" He tries to touch the bandage but ends up nearly slapping himself in the face with his own arm. "Oops!" He giggles again, the sound echoing through the quiet room. He tries to sit up, but cannot. "Whoa, Nelly!" "Easy," Karen laughs. "I'm the king of the jellyfish prom! They got no flair!" Once in the car, Karen buckles him in with care, double-checking the seatbelt. "Remember, no funny business," she warns. Plankton's eye droop, and his head lolls to the side. "You're going to sleep, aren't you?" she says, her voice a mix of amusement and exhaustion. "M'not sleeping," Plankton mumbles, his eyelid fluttering, his voice fading into a snore. The drive home is peaceful, with Plankton snoring lightly beside her. As they approach their place, she gently shakes him awake. "We're home, Sheldon," she says, her voice gentle. "Can you wake up for me?" Plankton's eye blink open, and he looks around in confusion. "Home?" he mumbles. "Already?" Karen nods with a smirk. "Yeah, you slept through the whole drive. Came out of it just in time." They get out of the car, and Plankton wobbles slightly on his legs, the after-effects of the anesthesia still lingering. Karen wraps an arm around his waist, supporting him as they make their way to the front door. With a chuckle, Karen helps him inside, the warm light of their living room washing over them. Plankton's snores become more pronounced as they move through the hallway. "Come on, you need to get to bed," she says, leading him to their bedroom. The room is cozy, with a large bed that seems to swallow Plankton whole as he collapses into it. Karen carefully pulls the covers up to his chin. "Rest now," she whispers, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

\\\\\\ _________________ / \ [|--O-O| / \ | | | ] | __/ / | | _ _\ _o_\_ \_________________/ | | |*/ ## \ /\ / |/ | \ \ ________________ \__________________/ / |____\ _|_| /\ @@@@@@ \ \_______+/ == \ \ @@ -- @@ \ |*|*****/__/ \ \ @@@ > @@ \ |*|********_____ \ \ @@@_\ o/_@@@ \ |**\_________ \ \ \ @@/ __@@@ \ \************|\ | \ \ | \_/ =/ | \ \***********|| | \ \ \ ___/__ / \_ ** || | \ \ |\\\\\\\\\\ \_ ** \|__|__ \ \_\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ \_ ************ |#####] \__\_\_ \\\\\\\\\\ \_ / \_\_ \\\\\\\\\\\ \_ / \_\_ {_} {_} \ |_________\ \_______________\ \/_______________/

https://www.rcoa.ac.uk/sites/default/files/documents/2022-06/12-SedationExp2021web.pdf

ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ! ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᔆᵉᵉᵐˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵏⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖˡᵒᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵘᵍʰᵗʸ ˡⁱˢᵗ! 'ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵒˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵒʳʸ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵒˣ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵒˣ ʰᵉ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ⸴ ᵗⁱˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗʰᵘᵈ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧ "‧‧‧ʸ’ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖᵗᵃˡᵏˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵒˡˡˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᶠ⸴ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ!" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵍˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵃⁱˡ‧ ╰ ✧ ･ﾟ∙ ∗ — ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⟨ 2 1 6

BRITAIN'S YOUNGEST VICTIM OF TAMPON-RELATED TOXIC SHOCK SYNDROME On Monday 13th August 2001 the Inquest into the death of 13-year-old Kayleigh Ann Jones of Middlesbrough, revealed that she died of tampon-related Toxic Shock Syndrome, the very first time that she had used tampons throughout her period. The Coroner, Michael Sheffield, was so affected by this tragic loss of a very bright young teenager that he decided to use his special powers to write to the Department of Health to enlist its support to highlight the dangers of tampons, to the medical profession and in schools. Kayleigh died in September 1999. Thursday was the first day back to school and it was the last day of her period. But Kayleigh became ill with sickness and diarrhoea shortly after arriving at school, and by the afternoon, the school had to call her stepfather, Terry Martell, to pick her up and take her home. She went straight to bed, and her mother Carol nursed her through the night. The next day there was no change so Carol phoned the GP. The Doctor advised giving plenty of fluids as it was probably a viral infection. But this didn't improve the situation, and as Kayleigh's temperature rose markedly, she began to ramble and became delirious, so the doctor was called again. The doctor could not find a blood pressure and immediately gave Kayleigh penicillin as he thought that she had meningitis He called the ambulance and put her on a drip. Kayleigh was stabilised in hospital and TSS was diagnosed. On Saturday there were more tests and treatment and she had a peaceful night. However, the following day Kayleigh's temperature went up again, her lungs filled with fluid and she suffered a fatal heart attack just four days after the initial symptoms. The Inquest found that the medical staff at the hospital and the GP did all that they could to save Kayleigh, leaving no doubt that Kayleigh died as a result of TSS caused by tampons. A verdict of Misadventure was recorded. The tampons used were Morrison's Supermarket own brand manufactured by Inbrand UK that have now gone out of business. Morrison's are currently supplied by Childwood Ltd. As a result of the Inquest, Kayleigh's mother, Carol Martell, has now been able to tell the world that the life of her loving and talented daughter has been tragically cut short by a tampon. She has received front page news and an in-depth report in the Northern Echo, followed up with news items in the Sun, Mirror Mail, Telegraph and the Express. Kayleigh's father, David Jones, was interviewed on GMTV and appeared in his local Crawley News, and Jenny Kilvert was interviewed on BBC Radio One. The media coverage prompted Discovery Channel to include a programme on Toxic Shock Syndrome in their series "Doctor in the House". The programme included TSS survivor Angela Smith of Norwich, who had TSS in November 1992 when she was 19 years old. Posted 19/8/2001

▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒░░░░▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒░░▒░░░░░░▒░░░▒░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░▒░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░▒░░▒▒▒░░▒▒░▒░▒░▒▒░░░░▒▒░░▒░░░▒░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒░░▒░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒░▒░▒▒▒▒░░▒░▒░░▒░▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░▒░░▒▒▒░░▒░▒▒░▒░░▒░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░▒░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒░░░▒░░░▒░░░░▒░░░▒▒░▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░░█▓░░░▒░▒▒░▒░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒░░░▒░▓▒░█▓░▒▒░▒░▒░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░█▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░█▓░▒▒▒░▒░▒░░░░░▒░░░░░░▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░ ░██▒░░▒██▓▒░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒░░▓▓░█▒░░░▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░█▒▒▓█▓░░▒▓█▓▒▒▓█▒░░░▒▒░▓█░█▒░░░░▒▒░▒▒▒░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░ ░█▓░░░░▒░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒█░█▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒░░▒░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█░█▒▒░▒░░░▒░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█░█▓▒▒▒▒░░▒░░▒░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒█░█▓░░░░▒░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓█▓░░░░░░░▓█▓██▒░░░▒▒▒░░▒█░█▓░▒░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓█▓▒█▓▒▒▓█▒░░░▒██▓█▓▒▒▓░▓█░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒░░▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓█░░▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█░▓▓▒░░░░▒░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░▓▓▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ █▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████ █▒█▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░▒▓█▒░░░░░░░▓▓░▓▓░▒▒░▒▓▓███████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ █▒█▒░░░░▒▓█▓█▓▒▒▓▓░░░░▒░▓▓░▓▓░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ █▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███▓▒░▓▓░▓▓▒░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ █░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓░▓█░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ █▓░░▓██▓▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▓▓░█▓░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒███▓▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓░▒█▒░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒░▒▓████████▒░▒█▓░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓██▓▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒░▒░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███▓▒▒▒░▒░▒░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▒░▒▒▒░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒█▒░▒▒░▒▒░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒█▒░░▒░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒░▒░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▓▒▒▒▒░▒░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓█▒░▒▒░░▒░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒░░░░░▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▓▓█▓▒▒▒▓▓█████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓█████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░▒▒▒▒░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░▒██▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓███▓▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░▒▒░▒░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░▒▓██▓▓██▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▓▒░░░░░▓██ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░▒█▓░░░░░░▓▒▒██▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▓███▓▓▓██▒░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓█░░▒▒░▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░▒█▓▒░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓░░░░░░░█▒▓▓░░▓▒░░░▒░▒███░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒░▓█▒░▒░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▒░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▒░▒░▒░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓████▓▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░▒▒░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒░▒░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▓█▒░▒▒░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▓░░░░░░▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒█▒▒▒▒░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▓▓░░░█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░▒░░░▒▒▓▒░░▓█▒▒████▓▒▒█▒▒▒█▒░░▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒██▒░░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓░░▓██░░▒██▒▒▒▓▒░░░▒▓██▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▓▒░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒█▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▓█▒░▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓█▓░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▓░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░▒█▒▒▒▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░▓███▓▒░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▓█▓▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓█▓▒░░▓█▓▓▓█▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░▒▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▒░░░░░██▓▓▒▒▒▒▓████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▒░▒░░░░░░▒▓█████▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓░░██▒▒░░▒░▒░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▒█▓▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░▓▓░░▒░▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▓▓███████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▒░▒░▓█▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒░▒░▒░░░▒░▒▒▓░▒▒░▒▒▒▒░░░░░▓██▒░░░░░░░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▓▓▓▓ ██▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████▓██▓▒░▒▒▒▓▒░▒░▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▓██████████▓▓▒▒░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░▒░▒▒░▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▓█░░▒▒▒▓▒▒░▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓███████████ ░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒█▒░░▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒█▒░░▒▓▒▒▒▓▓░▒▒▒░▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒ ░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒█▒░░░▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░▒█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒█▒░░▒░░▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▒ ░░░░▒░░░░░░░█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒█▒░▒▓▓▒▒▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒ ░░░░▓░░░░░░░█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒█▒░▒░▒▒░▒▓▒░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒█▓░░░▒░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░▓░░░░░░░█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒█▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒▓▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░▓▒░░░░░░█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▓▓░▒▒░▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░░█▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ░░░░▒▓░░░░░░█▓▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▓█▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓███ ░░░░▒▒░░░░░░█▓▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▓█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▒▒░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░░░▒█▓▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▓░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▓░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓████████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒█▓▒▓████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒█▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

Finola's Story 16-year-old Finola Tyson of Preston On Tuesday afternoon, 15 June 2005, 16-year-old Finola Tyson of Preston, complained of headache and stomach pains and asked her mother, Ange, to ring work, to say that she would not be attending that evening shift. It was the third day of her period and she had been using tampons. Around 10pm Fin said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. During the night she was sick and the next morning still complained of a headache and stomach ache. Her mother gave her Paracetamol and rang the doctor. He prescribed some Mefanamic Acid (Ponstans 40) for her period pains, (at mother's request), and also prescribed some tablets to stop her being sick. Ange collected the prescription, administered it, gave Finola a jug of water asking her to drink plenty and left her in bed to sleep. A little later, Ange. asked Fin how she felt and she said she had not been sick anymore and that her stomache ache had improved. She just wanted to sleep. The next day, Fin had an exam at school, so she was awoken at 7am. She came down stairs in her pyjamas, looking very lethargic. She had a red rash under her arms and was breathing faster than normal. Ange. asked Fin to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. It was at this point that Ange's partner John, noticed Fin's tongue. It was red with white spots, like a strawberry. She asked Fin. if she had a sore throat to which she replied she had. Ange. phoned the NHS Help-line and spoke at length with one of the Advisers who said "take her to her GP and don't worry". The doctor examined Fin., took her temperature, checked her throat, confirmed that she had a red raw throat, and diagnosed viral infection. He said that as she was taking her exams, that would account for her panic breathing. The rash was put down to eczema for which she had only recently been diagnosed. Fin was prescribed Amoxicillin for her throat, gel for her tongue (anti fungal), steroid cream for the rash and more Paracetamol tablets. Ange. monitored her daughter through the day, making sure she drank plenty of water and took all her medication. On Friday, there was still no change, no better, but no worse. Her "strawberry tongue" had gone down slightly and the white spots had subsided. On the Saturday morning, Ange. ran a bath for Fin. She went to her room to say that she would feel better if she had a bath and washed her hair, as she had not had one since Tuesday morning. Fin. agreed, but couldn't get up. She complained that her bones were aching and started to shout at her mother that she couldn't get up. Ange. managed to swing her out of bed and with help and support they got to the bathroom. Putting her into the bath was OK. She left her there for 5 minutes and returned to find she had not moved. Ange. knelt down to wash Fin's hair and then her body. She kept complaining of hurting and being tired. Getting Fin out of the bath was a nightmare, she felt so heavy and kept apologising all the time. Ange. managed to get her dry and back into bed. Ange. suspected meningitis and did the glass test on her rash, it stayed white. After 3 days on penicillin Fin was worse than ever, so Ange. phoned the doctor again. Being Saturday the calls were redirected to the hospital Primary Care Centre. The nurse on duty said get Fin to hospital as soon as possible. Ange's sister volunteered to take them to hospital and they drove straight there. The doctor called her in straight away. He checked her stomach and phoned someone straight away. There was a definite panic in the air as Fin had drips put into her. Ange. was asked to describe Fin's symptoms and history leading up to this day over and over again. They all kept saying what a good mum she had been and that she had done everything she could have. Then the bombshell, they confirmed they thought Fin had Toxic Shock Syndrome. She was taken to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) around 5.30pm. There was a lot of activity, putting in more lines for drips, etc. The staff where brilliant right from the start, although one nurse was increasingly concerned that Fin was only on Oxygen and needed ventilating as she appeared to be weakening. At 8.30pm whilst a doctor was explaining the severity of the illness, Fin had a cardiac arrest. It felt like an eternity for Ange and John, but then the nurse came to say that they could go and see her. She was alive, but was now on a ventilator. The doctors explained the serious nature of Fin's condition and that they were doing everything possible. They were told that the best thing they could do, would be to go home and get some rest, Fin was going to be in hospital for a long time. They got a taxi back home and after a lot of tears and disbelief that something as horrific as this could happen to a beautiful girl they all tried to get some rest. The telephone rang around 2.30pm. It was the ICU and they said it would be better if Fin's parents came back to the hospital as her blood pressure had dropped dangerously low. Fin spent four weeks in ICU and after seven operations, lost her fight for life on Sunday 18 July 2004, just three weeks after her 16th birthday. Posted 27/6/2006

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/105246894#workskin A Cry For Kelp DiscardMyHeart Fandom: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) Characters: Squidward Tentacles, Sheldon J. Plankton, Karen (SpongeBob)Sandy Cheeks, Eugene Krabs https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/104866263#workskin Language: English Stats: Published:2022 https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/105246894#workskin

☑

May 19th, 2010 My boyfriend died about a year ago. I was in the hospital for kidney problems and he was driving to visit me on a rainy day. The police said his car flipped over due to the rain. He died an hour later in the same hospital I stayed at. Before he died, he told the doctors to give me his kidney. His love GMH.

The Red Wristband A doctor was working at a hospital, a hospital where the patients were tagged with coloured bands. Green: alive. Red: deceased. One night, the doctor was instructed to get a few supplies from the basement of the hospital, and so he headed to the lift. The lift doors opened and there was a patient inside, minding her own business. Patients were allowed to roam around the hospital to stretch, especially those who have stayed long. The rule was to be back in their rooms before ten. The doctor smiled at the patient before pressing the number for the basement. He found it unusual that the woman didn’t have a button already pressed. He wondered if she was heading to the basement too. The lift finally reached the floor where the doors opened. In the distance a man was limping towards the elevator, and in a panic the doctor slammed the elevator button to close. It finally did and the lift began to ascend back up, the doctor’s heart pounding. “Why did you do that? He was trying to use the lift.” The woman stated, annoyed. “Did you see his wrist?” The doctor asked, “It was red. He died last night. I would know because I did his surgery.” The woman lifted her wrist. He saw red. She smiled. “Like this one?”

centang biru ✔️ 🔵✔️ [verify]:TikTok_logo:

people need to stop posting weird and gross stuff it is very, annoying and disgusting like I'm just trying to find cute combos and u people a ruining it. so pls stop 🛑¯\_(ツ)_/¯🛑🤢🤢🤢🤢

centang biru ✔️ 🔵

𝘉𝘭𝘶𝘦 verified✔️✔️✔️✔️ [verify]✪ ✔☑️🔵✅

︶︶︶︶︶ 00 dateㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ＼ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ20XXㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ 𓇼 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ:ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤur mood ୭ enter text here! how was your day? add extra stuff here... >_< 𓏵ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ:ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ7 / 𝟭𝟬 ︶︶︶︶︶ By cwream on discord! search up ' bwunny ' for more! 🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Méta vérifier⍟

😷 https://lifehacker.com/what-your-pediatrician-should-and-shouldnt-do-during-a-1822524179 😷

Can y'all please stop adding p0rn or other weird stuff here? This is a website sed for cte symbols/emojis. I'm 15 yrs old, and there are other kids here aswell.

𐙚

🤍 🦢🕊️🫧 ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🤍 ɞ˚‧｡⋆˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜♱𓍢ִ໋🀦♛𓃮𓆩 𓂋 𓆪˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁❀˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚✡🕊✝✟ ✞ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⚔☨ 𐙚 *ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.˚ᯓ★₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.⋆♱✮♱⋆࿐⸸✟𓃵⋆.˚🦋༘⋆♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧.ᐟ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺╰⪼────⚪🏳જ⁀➴ ✈︎ .☘︎ ݁˖☦︎ 🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺 ⛧♱ 𖦹⟡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✡ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐˚⊱🪷⊰˚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚💐˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ‧₊˚ ⛲️ ‧₊˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣶⣄⡀⢀⣠⣶⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠉⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⠀⠻⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠈⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠈⠙⠿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

💊🧪👁️🩸🍄🩺☠️☎️🏥🚑💉🦷🩹🧠🔪

Thorny people, get out of here. There could be little kids just trying to find cute kaomojis, then see your horrible stuff. Copy & Paste this, and submit it to spread the message #bekind #stopthethornys⋆⭒˚｡⋆