𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖮𝖭 𝖠 𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖬 pt. 1
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖫𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅: 𝟫-𝟣𝟢𝗍𝗁 𝖦𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾
Sheldon Plankton
is autistic since
birth. His computer
wife, Karen, knows
all about it. But due
to stubborn pride,
Plankton refused to
inform their son, Chip.
One day, Chip noticed something
peculiar, a container labeled
'SENSORY ITEMS' which
Karen's handing to Plankton.
Chip approached.
"Whatcha got?" he
asked with a puzzled
expression. Karen's
screen froze; she hadn't
expected this. "It's... it's
just a stress reliever
for your dad," she said,
quickly trying to change
the subject. But Chip
wasn't easily deterred.
Chip grabs a squishy toy,
only for Plankton to snatch
it right back out of his hand.
"Back off!" Plankton yells.
Karen sighs. "Plankton, it's
time we tell our son about
your neurodisability.."
Plankton glares at
Karen, then at Chip.
But their son looks
up at his parents.
"What's a neurodisability?"
Chip asks innocently,
his eyes wide with
curiosity. Plankton's
hand tightens around
the squishy toy, feeling
its reassuring texture
as he contemplates
his response.
Karen sits down
beside Chip, taking a
deep breath. "Well,
honey," she begins, "Some
people's brains work
a bit differently than
others, and that's ok.
Your dad's is one of
those brains. It's called
autism, and it's a part of
what makes hi-"
"Autism; like, ret-..."
Chip interrupts, using a
slur without knowing
its weight.
The room
goes silent.
Karen's eyes widen
in horror, but before she
can correct Chip, Plankton
throws the squishy
toy across the room.
"How dare you?" he roars.
"I'm not... I'm not..."
his voice trails off,
his fists clenched. Karen
quickly jumps in.
"Chip, that's a bad
word," she says firmly.
"It's a slur, and it
hurts people. Your
dad has autism, and
that's just a part
of who he is, not a
bad thing.."
Plankton turns to face
his son, his voice
shaking with anger.
"I've spent my whole
life dealing with
ignorant people like
y-you!" he yells, face
reddening. "Do you
have any idea how
much strength it takes
to be me every—"
Karen intervenes, her
voice calm but firm.
"Plankton, he didn't know.
It's our job to educate
and not to sc-"
"Get out!" Plankton
shouts, pointing to
the door, his voice
shaking with rage. "I
don't want to hear it!"
Chip's screen fills with
tears.
Karen turns to
Plankton.
"Plankton," she starts, her
voice measured. "He's just a
kid. He didn't mean to hurt
you."
But Plankton's anger
is rising.
"Just a kid? Just a word?"
he spits. "It's never just
that, Karen! And
now, my own son..."
his words choke off, and
he sits, deflated.
Chip looks between
his parents, his heart
racing. He sniffs. "I
don't get it, Mom. Why is
it so bad?" He looks
at Plankton, who still
refuses to meet his gaze.
"It's because people
use it to make fun of
others who are different,
sweetie," Karen explains.
Plankton's eye
squeezes shut, his fists
clenched tight. "Your
father has worked so hard
to overcome challenges,
and for you to..." Karen
can't finish.
Chip's eyes
fill with tears.
"I didn't
know, Dad,"
he whispers.
"I'm sorry."
Plankton's anger
doesn't subside,
turning away. "I
can't do this right
now," he says.
Karen nods,
understanding.
"Chip," she says
softly, "Why don't
you go to your room
and think about what
you've learned?"
Chip nods and
walks away slowly,
his screen down.
Plankton stays
silent, his breaths
shallow. Karen sits
down beside him
again, taking his
hand in hers. "You
know we didn't mean to
upset you," she says.
"But we couldn't keep
this a secret from
him forever."
The next day, Karen
decided that they all
should go to the park
a block away.
Plankton always loved
to swing, and Chip sits
in the other swing by
his. They both start to
swing back and forth
as high as they can.
Karen watches from
the bench.
But then some ignorant
teens come by, and they
decided to blast some
obnoxiously loud music.
But Plankton's unable
to handle it. He puts his
hands to his head, letting
go of the swing's chains.
Panic floods through him
as the sensory assault
overwhelms his system.
Without realizing it,
his legs kick out in an
instinctive reaction.
The swing's chains
creak in protest, and then
he's airborne, soaring
overhead, the sky
spinning around him.
Chip and Karen watch in
horror, unable to reach
him in time, as the
swing's momentum
sent Plankton hurtling.
With a sickening crunch,
Plankton's body hits the
concrete. He cries out,
his leg now bent at
an unnatural angle.
"Dad!" Chip shouts.
Karen rushes over
to Plankton as Chip
slows his swing.
The teens look over,
then scurry away,
their laughter fading.
Karen carefully
slides her arms under
Plankton, cradling him.
Chip runs to the car,
his mind racing with
the urgency of the
situation. He flings
open the door for
his mother, who gently
lifts Plankton inside.
The pain etched on
Plankton's face is a
mix of physical agony
and emotional distress.
Karen knew how an
ambulance will stress
Plankton out, so she
drove the family herself
to the nearest sensory
friendly hospital.
"Hold on, Plankton," Karen
whispers, her grip on
the steering wheel tight.
Chip sits in the back,
his eyes wide with fear.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs,
his voice barely audible
over the engine's hum.
Plankton doesn't talk,
his breaths coming in
quick, shallow gasps.
When they arrive at the
sensory-friendly hospital,
Karen parks the car near
the entrance. "Plankton
honey, we're gonna get
your leg fixed at this
hospital. We'll explain
your autis–"
"HOSPITAL‽" Plankton
interrupts. Chip then
follows them into the
building, going up to
the receptionist.
"Welcome to the sensory
friendly hospital," the lady
at the front desk greets
them.
The receptionist's
badge reads 'Ms. Miki'.
"Karen, I can't," Plankton
whispers.
Ms. Miki then
approaches them.
"Hi; I'm Miki. Can we help
you?" Karen nods. "My
husband has autism
and fell on his leg.
He needs a doctor, but
please be gentle."
Ms. Miki nods with
understanding. "We're
trained for this, don't
worry."
Miki turns to
Plankton. "Hi, I'm
Miki. What's your
name?"
Plankton's eye darts
around. "P-Plankton,"
he stammers. Miki nods.
"Hi, Plankton," Miki
says softly. "We need to
see how bad your leg
is. Would you mind if we
take an x-ray?"
Karen nods, trying
to soothe her husband
as she carries him down
the hallway.
The room is
dimly lit and quiet,
designed to reduce
stimulation for patients
like Plankton. The x-ray
technician, a man named
Gil, greets them warmly.
"This is Plankton," Miki
tells Gil. "His leg hurts."
Gil nods, his face calm.
"Let's get you sorted, Mr.
Plankton!"
Gil leads them into a
soothing yellow room, the
hum of the x-ray machine
barely audible. Plankton's
heart races, but he tries
to keep it together.
The room is designed
to be less intimidating,
with gentle lighting and
a soft blanket waiting
for him on the exam
table.
"Okay, Plankton," Gil says,
his tone gentle. "We're
going to get a quick picture
of your leg, and then we'll
know how to help you
better. Can you lie down
fo—" "KAREN DON'T LET
GO OF MY HAND I NEED
YOU, PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Plankton interrupts Gil.
Karen nods, squeezing
his hand tight. "It's okay,
babe," she whispers. Gil
nods. "She can stay with
you throughout your visit
no matter what.." Plankton
nods as Karen helps him
onto the x-ray table.
The x-ray machine hums
to life. Plankton flinches,
his body tense. But Gil
moves quickly, finishing
the x-ray. "Good," Gil says,
his voice soothing. "Now
let's see.."
The results show a
clean break in Plankton's
leg.
The doctor comes in,
a kind-faced octopus
named Dr. Hank. "Looks
like you'll need surgery,
Mr. Plankton," he says.
"But don't worry, we—"
"Surgery?" Plankton
shrieks. The room seems
to close in around him.
The doctor nods, his tone
soft. "We've got a team
here that caters to any of
your needs. They'll make
sure it's as comfortable
as possible for you. And
Karen can stay throughout
the whole entire surgery. I
assume this young one here
is your son?"
Chip nods, his eyes
wet with concern. "Yes,
he is," Karen says, her
voice thick. Gil nods.
"Miki, can you take
him to the waiting
area? Don't worry, you
will see each other
once we fix up the leg."
Ms. Miki leads Chip out
of the room, and he
reluctantly follows.
Karen, carrying Plankton,
follows Dr. Hank into
the surgery room to
discuss the procedure.
"The surgery will
use a special bone
glue," Dr. Hank
explains. "It's
designed to work
with your body's
natural healing
process without
any scarring or
stitches. It dissolves
as the bone heals.
However, you'll be in
a cast for six weeks. For
the surgery, we'll use
inhalational anesthesia. It's
a gentle way to put you
to sleep so you won't
feel a thing. You'll
simply breathe in some
gas through a mask,"
he says, holding up a
transparent mask with
soft padding around the
nose and mouth. "It'll help
you relax and keep
you from feeling any
pain before the use of IV.
You'll wake up groggy but
with a cast; okay?"
The room is a calming
shade of green, with
soft lights. Karen holds
Plankton's hand tightly
as she puts him onto the
surgery bed, equipped with
a weighted blanket.
The nurses cover him
with the blanket.
"Ready?" Dr. Hank asks,
his hand hovering over
the anesthesia mask.
Plankton nods. "You're
strong, Plankton.
You've got this." Karen
says to him.