DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 17
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
The next morning, Karen
gets a text from Plankton's
dental office for a check
up and routine cleaning. So
Karen decided to go down
stairs to awaken him, and
Chip, so they can go. She
finds them both asleep by
each other still on the couch.
Gently, she shakes Plankton's
shoulder. "Honey," she says,
her voice a soft caress.
"You've got a dentist
appointment." Plankton's
eye snaps open, his antennae
twitching. Chip opens his eyes.
Plankton sits up with a start,
his body stiff from the
night on the couch. He looks
at Karen, his expression
a mix of confusion and
dread. "Dentist?" he repeats, his
voice cracking.
Karen nods, her eyes filled with
concern. "It's okay," she says,
her voice soothing. "We'll go
together, all of us."
Karen's eyes are filled with
understanding as she helps
Plankton to his feet. Chip
rises from his spot, his
expression a mix of worry
and determination.
The drive to the dentist's office
is quiet, the tension palpable.
Once they arrive, they go up to
the receptionist desk.
The receptionist, a cheery octopus,
greets them with a smile. "Good
morning, Mr. Plankton," she says.
"You're here for your 9 AM appointment,
aren't you?" Plankton nods.
"Yes," Karen says. "He's with hygienist
named Zoe.." But then the receptionist
interrupts her. "Oh, Zoe doesn't work
here anymore. She's been replaced by
a new hygienist, named Jill."
Plankton's antennae droop, his
face paling. Change was never his
friend, especially when it came
to routine. "But I've always had
her," he whispers, his voice tight
with anxiety. Karen's hand squeezes
his shoulder, her eyes filled with
understanding. "It'll be okay,"
she murmurs. "We'll make it work. We
can tell her about your autistic needs."
The waiting room is a cacophony
of sounds, the buzz of the fluorescent
lights, the hum of the air conditioner,
the distant drill, and the muffled
chatter of other patients. Plankton
starts rocking back and forth.
Karen notices the signs of
his anxiety building, his antennae
twitching with every new sound.
She leans over, whispering. "We'll tell
them what you need."
Chip looks at his dad's stimming.
"Why's he rocking?" Chip asks
Karen. She whispers back, "It's a
way he self-soothes, a common
autistic trait. It's his way to
deal with restlessness."
The new hygienist, Jill, enters
the waiting room. "Plankton?"
Plankton's antennae shoot up, his
body tense. "Yes," Karen says,
smiling warmly. "This is my
husband, Plankton, and our son,
Chip." She nods towards Chip. They
stand up and follow Jill.
Jill's office is a minefield
of sensory stimuli. The bright
lights, the smell of antiseptic,
and the shiny metal instruments
glinting on the tray. Plankton's
body tightens with each step
closer to the chair. Karen notices,
and whispers, "Remember what
we talked about, Plankton. You
can handle this."
He nods, his antennae flicking
nervously.