𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 2
Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous
https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all
Read the Autism And All one first!
Hanna leaned forward,
her screen studying
Plankton. "How
can I he--"
"Space," Karen said, cutting
Hanna off gently. "Give
him space. Sometimes, that's
what he needs most." Hanna
nods, leaning back.
Chip watched his dad with a
newfound understanding of
his father's struggles. He
felt a tug of guilt for not
seeing it sooner, for not
knowing how to support
him. But he also felt a
sense of awe at his mom's
patience and knowledge.
The room was quiet, save
for the rhythmic sound
of Plankton's rocking. Karen
watched him, her eyes full of
love and concern. She knew
his brain was a maze of thoughts
and sensations, trying to
make sense of a world that
was often too much.
Hanna, now more cautious,
observed from a distance,
trying to understand the
complexities of autism. She
felt a newfound respect for
Karen and the unspoken
strength she had to navigate
this life with her husband.
"I'm sorry," Plankton finally
managed to say, his voice
still shaky.
Karen looked over at him,
seeing the turmoil in his
eye. "You don't have to—"
But her phone buzzed
in her pocket. She
pulled it out and
recognized the text
from Plankton's dentist
for a dental appointment
to get his x-ray.
"Hanna, I hate to ask," Karen
started, looking apologetic.
"But could you possibly keep
an eye on Chip for a bit?"
Hanna looked from
Plankton to Karen. "Of
course!" she said without
a second thought. "What's
going on?"
Karen sighs. "I'll keep you
updated, but Plankton
needs to get x-
rays at the dentist..."
Plankton's eye snapped
back to focus at the
mention of dentists.
Dentist visits had always
been a challenge.
But Karen was already
thinking ahead. "It's ok
honey," she soothed. "We'll
make sure they know about
yo--" She turned to Plankton
to see an oncoming
absence seizure. "Plankton, it's ok,"
she cooed, but it was too late.
The world around him faded
into a blur of lights and sounds,
his body frozen in a state of
overwhelm. Hanna watched,
horrified, as Plankton's eye
is now unblinking, his body
unmoving.
Hanna was still, gaze
fixed on Plankton, fear etched
on her screen. She'd never
seen anything like this before.
But Karen was in action,
her movements swift and
practiced. She knew
exactly what to do.
"You're ok, Plankton.
You're just having an absence.
It'll be over soon." Chip watched,
his own fear mirroring
Hanna's. But there was
something else there, too:
understanding. He knew
his mom was right, that his
dad would come back to them.
The seizure passed, and
Plankton blinked back
to reality. "Let's get to
this appointment." Karen
says, helping him stand.
When Karen arrives with
Plankton to the dentist's
office, the receptionist
smiles brightly. "Hi, Mr.
Plankton," she says, her voice
chirpy and cheerful. Plankton
flinches at the noise, his eye
darting around the room, taking
in every detail, every sound.
The waiting room was a minefield
of sensory assaults: the ticking
clock, the humming of the lights,
the rustle of magazines. Karen
squeezes his hand gently, a silent
reminder that she's there, that
he's not alone.
When they call his name,
Plankton's grip tightens. The
smell of antiseptic and the sight
of the chair sends a tremor
through his body. But Karen guides
him through the door.
In the sterile room, the
dental hygienist is kind.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Marla," she says,
her voice measured and calm.
"We're gonna take some pictures
of your teeth, okay?"
Plankton nods, his eye
wide with anxiety. "Okay,"
he whispers. Karen squeezes
his hand reassuringly,
nodding at Dr. Marla. "He's
nervous," she says quietly as
he rocks in a stim.
"But he'll be okay."
The chair is cold and hard,
but Plankton doesn't notice.
He's too busy focusing on his
breathing, counting the tiles
on the ceiling. Karen stays
close, whispering calming
phrases. "In and out,
honey. You've got this." His
rocking slows.
Dr. Marla moves with a
practiced grace, her eyes
watchful and understanding.
"Open wide," she instructs,
and Plankton obeys.
The x-ray is over quickly,
and Dr. Marla gently
removes the tray. "Good
job," she says, her voice
soothing. Plankton's eye
flutters as he tries to refocus
on the room around him.
But the calm is shattered
when Dr. Marla delivers
the news: "Mr. Plankton,
you're going to need your
wisdom teeth removed today."
Plankton's eye widens,
his breath catches. "Now?"
he stammers, his voice
squeaking with fear. Karen
nods solemnly. "It's preventative,
honey. It'll be easier now than
waiting for them to cause
problems later."
Plankton's heart races as
the words sink in. Surgery.
Now. His brain spirals into
overload. He feels Karen's
calming hand on his shoulder,
but it's not enough. The
world around him feels like it's
closing in, the sounds too loud,
the lights too bright.
"Breathe," Karen whispers.
The room becomes a blur
of masked faces and shiny
instruments. Plankton's
body tenses, his stims
fading into the background
as fear takes over. Karen
remains a constant presence,
talking him through the
process. "They're going
to put you to sleep, Plankton,"
she explains. "You won't
feel a thing."
The anesthesiologist enters
the room, a gentle giant with
a calming smile. "I'm Dr.
Smith. I'll be taking care
of y—"
But Plankton's gone into
overdrive, his body trembling
with the intensity of his
fear. "He's autistic," Karen
interjects quickly. "He needs
extra care. He's sensitive
to sensory stimulation."
Dr. Marla nods.
The anesthesiologist, Dr.
Smith, takes a step back, his
face a picture of understanding.
"It's ok," he says, his
voice a gentle rumble. "We'll
make this as comfortable as
possible for you."
Karen nods gratefully. "Plankton
has a hard time with sudden
changes. Can you tell us what's
going to happen?"
Dr. Smith nods. "We'll start with
a topical numbing agent, then
move to a sedative. It'll help
keep him asleep during the
procedure."
The anesthetic cream is cold
against Plankton's gums and
his arm, where the IV will
eventually be.
"It's just a tickle," Karen says,
trying to soothe his nerves.
Plankton nods, his body
stiff as a board. He's
already in fight or flight mode,
his brain unable to process.
The mask is placed over his
face, and he inhales the sweet
smell of nitrous oxide. "Breathe
deep," Karen coos, her hand
on his.
Plankton's eye widens at
first, then slowly glazed over
as the gas takes hold.
The room seems to spin
around him, but it's a
comforting, soothing spin.
The lights dim, the sounds
become muffled, and the
sharp edges of the world
soften. He feels himself
being lifted into the chair,
his body weightless.
Karen's voice is the
last thing he hears before
everything disappears.
Karen texts Hanna. "I'm letting
you know, Plankton's getting a
tiny operation to remove his
wisdom teeth." Karen texts.
When the surgery finishes,
Plankton is still asleep with
Karen holding his limp hand.
The dental staff is
extra careful not to startle
his sensitive system. They
wheel him into recovery,
his chest rising and falling
evenly with the rhythm of sleep.
Karen watches him closely,
their bond stronger than ever.
Hanna's text lights up her
phone screen. "How's
everything?" Hanna asks.
"He's in recovery," Karen
replies in the text.
Meanwhile, Hanna and Chip
are at the park, trying to
pass the time. Chip throws
a frisbee to Hanna.
As the frisbee arcs through
the air, he thinks about his dad.
He wishes he could be there,
but he knows that his mom's
calmness is what Plankton
needs right now. He wonders
how the surgery went, if his
dad is ok.
Now, the dentist
turns to Karen. "The
anesthesia will wear off
soon. He'll wake up groggy,
but he'll be ok." Karen nods,
squeezing Plankton's hand as
they remove the IV. "His mouth
has been numbed, and he
might act a bit loopy when
he first wakes up."
As the anesthesia wears
off, Plankton stirs, his
eye blinking open. "Hi,
honey," Karen says softly.
"It's over."