☆ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ
"You nervous?" Karen asked.
Plankton was about to
undergo the ordeal of
getting wisdom teeth
removed.
Dr. McStingray entered
the room with a gentle
smile and a reassuring
pat on Plankton's shoulder.
"Just breathe in deeply,"
he instructed.
Plankton's eye grew heavy
by the time he felt the chair
recline, the last sensation
he recalled.
The room grew quieter as
anesthesia took hold
and the steady beep of the
monitor filled the space like
a metronome. Karen
remained fixed on her husband's
face, a mask of serene
oblivion. Now, watching Plankton's
open mouth, she felt a strange mix
of relief and anxiety.
The surgical team moved with
precision. Dr. McStingray
donned his magnifying
glasses, peering into the cavernous
mouth. His assistant, a young
woman with a gentle touch,
prepared the instruments
on a gleaming tray.
Karen could see
the muscles in his jaw
twitch slightly, but otherwise,
he remained still and silent,
his breathing deep and even.
The assistant passed
Dr. McStingray the necessary
instruments with swift,
practiced motions. Each
item was sterilized, each step
carefully explained to Karen
to ease her worries. She nodded,
trying to focus on the
technicalities rather than
the reality of her husband's
mouth being pried open and
his teeth being forcibly extracted.
The doctor's hand hovered
over Plankton's mouth, his
fingers poised like a pianist's.
He took one final look at the
x-ray before plunging into
the surgery. The drill whirred
to life once more, a high-
pitched sound that seemed to
echo in the small space. Karen
closed her eyes, not wanting to
see the actual extraction, but
the sound was too much. She
quickly opened them again,
forcing herself to watch.
The nurse handed Dr. McStingray
the forceps. With a swift,
confident movement, he clamped
down on the first tooth. Plankton's
face remained slack, but Karen
could almost feel the pressure
building in the air around them.
The doctor's grip tightened,
his knuckles white with focus.
He applied gentle force, rocking
the tooth back and forth. There
was a faint crack, and Karen
swallowed hard, her heart racing.
The sound grew louder as
the doctor worked, the forceps
scraping against bone. The
tension grew palpable, even
though Plankton remained
unconscious. Each tug was
accompanied by a soft groan
from the chair, as if it too
sympathized with the struggle.
The young assistant offered
words of encouragement,
her voice low and soothing.
The first tooth gave way
suddenly, and the doctor
lifted it out with a flourish,
like a magician pulling a coin
from behind an ear.
The nurse dabbed
at Plankton's mouth with a
cotton swab, the crimson
stain stark against the
white cloth.
Karen felt a pang of
nausea, but she couldn't
look away. The surgical
site was a bloody mess,
but the doctor's steady
hands were already moving
on to the next tooth.
The dance of instruments
resumed, a symphony of
clinking steel and suction
whirring as they cleared the
debris away.
The second tooth was
stubborn, embedded deeper
than the first. Dr. McStingray
paused, studying the x-ray
once more before diving in.
This time, the process was
more intense, the chair's
hydraulics hissing with
each push and pull.
Karen's knuckles were white
as she gripped the chair,
her eyes glued to the
scene unfolding before her.
The forceps clamped down,
the doctor's face a mask of
concentration. The room grew
silent save for the
steady beep of the monitor
and the occasional slurp
of saliva being suctioned away.
Sweat beaded on Dr. McStingray's
forehead, and his grip on the
tools tightened. He applied
more pressure, and Karen
could see the muscles in his
arms tense.
The tooth resisted, rooted
like an ancient tree in the
rock of Plankton's jaw. The
doctor's face grew stern,
his brow furrowed in
determination. He leaned in
closer, his breath misting
his mask as he whispered
to the assistant, who nodded
and passed him a different
instrument. The new tool
was a wrench-like contraption,
designed to grip the tooth
more securely.
With a swift twist, the
doctor applied torque to the
wisdom tooth. Karen's heart
thudded in her chest,
mirroring the tooth's struggle
for freedom. The chair's
mechanisms groaned in
sympathy as Plankton's mouth
was opened wider. The
young assistant's eyes met
Karen's, and she offered a
quick nod of reassurance. But the
tension didn't abate. The
tooth was a stubborn sentinel,
refusing to be moved.
The doctor's grip was
firm, his knuckles bulging
against the chrome handle
of the tool. He pulled with
a slow, steady force, his
biceps flexing with the effort.
The sound of bone and
tooth grating against each
other was muffled by the
suction's constant whisper.
Karen's eyes watered, not
from pain but from the sheer
intensity of the scene. Plankton's
body remained still,
his chest rising and falling
rhythmically with each breath.
With a final, decisive
yank, the second tooth
was freed from its prison.
The doctor held it up to
the light, inspecting
the gnarled root before
dropping it into a metal
tray with a clink. The
nurse swabbed the blood
away with a gentle touch,
and Karen let out the
breath she hadn't realized
she'd been holding.
The third tooth was the
easiest, sliding out as
if it had been waiting
for its turn to escape.
The room felt lighter, the
tension dissipating like
the evaporating mist of
the antiseptic spray. The
last tooth, however, was
a different beast entirely.
It was lodged in at an
angle, trapped by the
crowded jaws of its
neighbors.
Dr. McStingray paused,
wiping his brow with the
back of his hand. He
glanced at Karen, his
eyes flickering with
concern. "This one might
take a bit longer," he
said, his voice calm
despite the gravity of
his words.
The nurse applied
pressure to Plankton's
cheek, pushing his mouth
open wider to give
the doctor a better
angle. The young
assistant readied herself,
gripping a pair of
retractors. The doctor
inserted them carefully,
spreading the gum tissue
to expose the trapped tooth.
Karen could see the
tiny bead of sweat
forming on Plankton's
temple, even though
he was unconscious.
Dr. McStingray
selected a slender,
curved scalpel and
began to cut the
gum away from the
final tooth. The scalpel
was precise, a delicate
instrument in the
hands of a master. The
tissue parted like
the pages of an old
book, revealing the
wisdom tooth's crooked
root in all its glory.
The doctor's hand
was a blur of motion,
his scalpel carving a
path through the
swollen gum tissue.
Blood flowed
freely, and the assistant
quickly placed a
gauze pad to.
With a flick of his
wrist, Dr. McStingray
severed the last
connective tissue,
freeing the final tooth. The
nurse suctioned the area
once more, the sound of
the machine like a
sigh of relief.
The doctor then picked
up a set of stitches, his
hands moving with the
precision of a
seamstress on a tight
deadline. He began to
sew up the gum, his
fingers moving in a
quick, delicate dance.
The needle glinted under
the surgical lights as he
pulled the thread through
the tender flesh. Karen
watched, but she knew this
was a crucial part of the
procedure.
The stitches were
tiny, almost invisible.
Each one pulled the
gum tissue together
like the threads
on a fine tapestry,
weaving a pattern of
recovery. The doctor's
fingers moved with
practiced ease, looping
and tying off each
suture with a gentle
pull.
As the final knot was
tied, Dr. McStingray
stood back, surveying his
work with a critical
eye. "We're all done,"
he announced, his voice
soft and soothing.
The assistant began to
clean up the surgical
field, the clinking of
instruments a familiar
symphony that signaled
the end of the operation.
The doctor turned to
Karen, his smile warm.
"He'll be waking up
soon," he said, his
gloved hands coming
to rest on the chair's
armrest. "The recovery
will be a bit uncomfortable,
but we've given him the
best care possible."
Karen nodded, her
hands trembling slightly.
The nurse began to
clean Plankton's face,
his breathing remained
steady and deep.
The anesthesia started
to wear off, Plankton's
eyes fluttered open. His
gaze was hazy, trying to
focus on the blurred shapes
above him. The room was
still, the only noise
the faint beeping of the
heart monitor. Karen
reached for his hand,
squeezing it tightly. "It's
over," she whispered, her
voice cracking with
relief.
The nurse applied
pressure to the gauze
in Plankton's mouth.
He groaned softly,
his voice muffled by the
cotton wad.
The nurse removed the
cotton from his mouth,
carefully checking the
stitches. Dr. McStingray
cleaned up the last of the
blood, wiping Plankton's
face with a cool cloth. His
eye fluttered open, and Karen
smiled down at him. "It's over,"
she murmured. "You did so well."
Plankton groaned, his eye
unfocused as the fog of
sleep retreated. The pain
was already setting in, a
dull throb. "You're ok," she
whispered, her hand
shaking slightly as she
stroked him.