Finola Emojis & Text

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

💉🎀🦴🏩🩹

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.

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

USA PRESS AGENCY FILES REVEAL MORE CASES OF TOXIC SHOCK SYNDROME - (1ST JANUARY 2009) (USA readers are invited to add more detail if they know about these TSS cases). KELLY NEFF, a 16 year old student at Lincoln-Way East High School in Illinois had been using a new sports-type brand of tampon for the first time shortly before she died of Toxic Shock Syndrome in August 2007. Kelly's uncle Carl was spokesmen for the grieving Neff family and said that Kelly had been experiencing flu-like symptoms since Saturday. She started her period on the previous Wednesday and her mom became concerned on Monday and tried to make a doctor's appointment, but the doctor had no free space. Kelly's parents took her to Loyola University Medical Centre in Maywood, but she died suddenly. DANIELLE GRAVES, an 18 year old college student from Iowa, thought that the hamburger she had eaten had given her stomach ache, so she went to bed early. She woke up that evening with vomiting, diarrhoea and a fever, took some medication and went back to bed. This was a Saturday in December 2005. When she woke up the following afternoon she was worse and her temperature had soared to 104 degrees. She was taken to the local hospital where staff noticed her tampon and found very low blood pressure and a red rash. By late afternoon, Danielle was on a helicopter to Mercy Medical Centre in Des Moines. On Monday she was pale and unconscious, hooked to a ventilator with several IVs attached. Her lungs and kidneys failed and she was revived from 3 cardiac arrests before succumbing to the fourth. She died on the Tuesday afternoon from staphylococcal toxic shock syndrome. KOURTNEY MATTHEWS from San Jose, California, was 16 when she died of tampon-related Toxic Shock Syndrome in November 2004. It started with flu-like symptoms and within 24 hours Kourtney was dead. Her mother Tracy said "Since nobody's been talking about TSS for years, you think tampons are safe. I'm never going to see her get married and have kids. It's really hard when you think that all she was doing was taking care of her personal hygiene". JAMIE ZIMMERMAN, a high school student almost died of TSS when she was 17 years old in April 2002. One Saturday night she went to a party with friends. She was on her period, so she wasn't feeling great to begin with. Things got worse when she started to suffer from a headache, nausea, chills and an upset stomach. By 9 pm she asked her friends to take her home where she was violently sick. Her mother gave her some medication and she went to bed. Two days later she was in a coma and had to be rushed to hospital. LISA MENGARELLI from Illinois, was 18 in 1997, when she nearly died from a mystery disease, later diagnosed as an extreme case of Toxic Shock Syndrome. Then 8 years on, in October 2005, Lisa was diagnosed with osteoporosis. "I wasn't shocked at all", said Lisa, "the medication that I have to take puts me at higher risk of brittle bones. I'm at the point where another chronic condition is not unexpected". Lisa also suffers from Raynaud's phenomenon, which is a circulatory disorder and Lupas, which is a chronic inflammatory disease characterised by fatigue and skin rashes. Lisa said that although she is only 26, she feels like she has the body of an 80 year old. It is not reported if Lisa's condition is due to her suffering from Toxic Shock Syndrome. DOLORES SHEA, aged 30, died of Toxic Shock Syndrome in October 1989 after suffering flu-like symptoms. Four years on, in July 1993, a Chicago newspaper reported that a Santa Anna, (California) jury failed to find the tampon manufacturer (Kimberly-Clark Corp) responsible for her death, but the judge overturned their verdict. This ruling means a retrial in the wrongful death lawsuit brought by Dolores's husband Michael. DONNA MARIE DAVIS, age 31 from Illinois, died of TSS in 1979. Her family finally got permission to sue the tampon manufacturer (Johnson and Johnson) which took place in January 1990. After an 11 hour deliberation, the jury ordered the company to pay $905,000 in compensation. MEGHAN DURAN, a 14 year old student, about to start at Mira Costa High School in Manhattan Beach, California, suffered from Toxic Shock Syndrome in September 2004. She had flu-like symptoms and a rash, and two days later became critically ill. Although she has now recovered, it was reported that she still gets tired very easily. She said that she had never heard of TSS. Her mother said "with something this serious and this dangerous, there should be a more prominent warning on the outside of the box". TRICIA ZAILO, a university student in Michigan, died of Toxic Shock Syndrome in December 2000. She was using a tampon and suffered from a fever over 102 degrees, vomiting, diarrhoea and sunburn-like rashes. LESLEY HUDSON, age 33 from USA, survived Toxic Shock Syndrome in May 1996. "It came on suddenly" she said, "fever, diarrhoea and swollen red hands. I couldn't even get out of bed. On the third day, I was opening a new pack of tampons and decided to look at the warning leaflet. My symptoms matched those on the leaflet. I called my doctor who advised me to get to the Emergency Room right away. I was hospitalised for 4 days, before being fit enough to come home. It took a long time to completely recover though". AMY PAVELL, a teenager from Naperville, Illinois, nearly died from Toxic Shock Syndrome in July 2003. One morning she wasn't feeling too well, but put it down to being on her menstrual cycle. By late afternoon she was exhausted and couldn't hold down sips of water. By evening, her family rushed her to Edward Hospital with a temperature of 104 degrees. The doctors identified very low blood pressure and recognised that Amy had TSS and treatment began. She was kept in for a week before being allowed home. BETTY O'GILVIE from Kansas, died a horrible, bizarre death in 1983. A raging infection caused by a tampon made by International Playtex, resulted in Toxic Shock Syndrome. In December 1996 her family sued the company and the jury awarded them $1.5 million in compensation and $10 million in punitive damages. After lawyers' fees and expenses were deducted, the O'Gilvie family received $4.96 M of those punitive damages and the Internal Revenue Service is also going to get a big portion of it. In LOS ANGELES COUNTY in March 2005, it was reported that five cases of Toxic Shock Syndrome had been discovered in teenage girls from the previous September. All of the teenagers at UCLA and Miller Children's hospital were critically ill, but survived. However, a 16 year old girl in Santa Clara County died in November 2004 from probable TSS, according to the county's medical examiner. The CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH said that in the state, eight people had died from Toxic Shock Syndrome in 2002 and that there were four deaths in each of the previous three years. The JOURNAL OF CLINICAL MICROBIOLOGY in June 2004 found that cases of TSS in one region of Minnesota had more than tripled from 2000 to 2003. Posted 6/1/2009

KAREN OF HAMPSHIRE One Thursday in January 1991, 20 year old Karen became ill with sickness and diarrhoea. Although she was not aware of the connection, she was having a period and using tampons. She called the doctor who initially diagnosed gastro-enteritis and gave her some medicine. Karen continued vomiting, suffered severe diarrhoea and was in agony, and on Sunday the doctor suspected appendicitis and she was rushed to hospital. As she was severely dehydrated, Karen was immediately put on a drip, whilst the diagnosis was being made. The next morning (Monday), Karen felt fine and was laughing and joking with her parents. However, her mother noticed that her breathing was laboured and that she had a red rash on her leg. But by 3 pm, Karen's condition worsened and she was given oxygen. By 9 pm she had lapsed into unconsciousness and transferred to Intensive Care. The medical staff did not know what was causing the problem, although toxic shock was considered. She had 15 tubes going into and out of her. At 10 pm Karen suffered a cardiac arrest, and the IC staff resuscitated her, but her condition was critical. At 1 am on the Tuesday morning, Karen had a last injection to stimulate her blood flow, and her parents were told that this was her last hope. Tragically, Karen died at 2.15 am. Posted 30/12/2000

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.

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

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.

DOCTORs APPOINTMENTs Before a procedure, get to meet the physician and acknowledge their authority before you mention your sensitivities. Find a way to make a compromise. Even request more time for an appointment if you want to have topical numbing agents wait to work, to discuss alternatives, etc. Before a procedure, look up the physician and/or the clinic website. Find pictures of the inner building and search for FAQ, policies, procedures, reviews, etc. Before a procedure, bring a fully charged phone and any sensory necessities such as plastic cups for water, ice pack, self testing kits, written notes and copies, etc.

International Tampon Alert Day 8th June 2021 International Tampon Alert Day is a time to reflect on the dangers of tampons containing rayon, particularly to Toxic Shock Syndrome. TSS can be fatal or can cause serious ill health problems and sometimes lengthy recovery. Because of the coronavirus emergency this year, Alice Kilvert Tampon Alert group wishes to inform you that there will be no tampon awareness activities this year. We would also like to draw your attention to the signs and symptoms of TSS: headache, sometimes sore throat, aching muscles, high temperature, shivers/chills, vomiting, watery diarrhoea, dizziness and confusion, red sunburn-like rash usually on chest, abdomen or thighs, and very low blood pressure. It is important to note that not all symptoms may occur, they do not necessarily occur in any fixed order, and they may not persist. If you experience any of these symptoms whilst using a tampon, seek immediate medical attention. Take Care, Stay Safe and Best Wishes, Alice Kilvert Tampon Alert.

DELYSE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE Delyse was a 32 year old secretary. Early in August 1993, Delyse started her period and used tampons as usual. However, this time it was to have tragic consequences. On the Saturday morning, Delyse suddenly started vomiting, had severe diarrhoea and a high temperature. She thought that she was suffering from food poisoning. Later that day her partner called the doctor, who diagnosed flu. On the Monday, Delyse went back to her GP who diagnosed gastritis - inflammation of the lining of the stomach. Her condition worsened and on Tuesday she was admitted to the local hospital with a suspected burst appendix. Delyse seemed to be in a stable condition whilst the diagnosis began, but within 24 hours, she was rushed into Intensive Care, then onto a ventilator as her lungs had collapsed. She was then transferred to a specialist hospital nearby, where her condition improved slightly. When her vital organs, including liver and kidneys, failed, Delyse was put onto a dialysis machine. After 5 weeks of fighting for her life, Delyse suffered a massive brain haemorrhage and died on 9th September. Posted 30/12/2000

ANNETTE OF MIDDLESEX Annette was a healthy 17 year old at boarding school in Surrey. One Friday, in June 1989, just seven weeks before her 18th birthday, she felt a bit under the weather. She had just started her period and was using high absorbency tampons. By Sunday, she was in the school sick bay, and her worried parents were driving to visit her. Annette had a high temperature, severe headache and "appeared distant". However, it wasn't until the Wednesday that she was rushed to hospital, with what doctors thought was a burst appendix. In the early hours of the Thursday, she was put onto a ventilator, and her parents had what was to be their last conversation with Annette. The doctors advised her parents that she was suffering from toxic shock syndrome, a disease that they had never heard of. During the night Annette's condition suddenly deteriorated and she suffered two massive heart attacks and died. Posted 30/12/2000

"I know your antenna hurts, Plankton. Why do you think I'm driving you to the doctor?" Karen exclaimed. The Bikini Bottom Hospital looms right up ahead. Plankton winced as he touched his antenna, which was swollen. "Don't you dare say 'I told you so' to me," he mumbled. "Why would I do that?" Karen replied, feigning innocence. They both knew it was because of his latest invention, a crazy contraption that was supposed to harness the power of jellyfish to make the perfect Krabby Patty. But, as usual, it went awry, and he wasn't quick enough to get out of the way. They arrived at the hospital. The receptionist glanced up from her desk. "Hello! How may I help you?" "It's Plankton," Karen said, nodding to her husband. "He's got an antenna problem. It's swollen and he's in pain. He got it slammed in between..." "Karen please.." Plankton interrupts. The receptionist remained professional. "Alright, let me get you checked in. Have a seat and will be with you shortly." The waiting room was filled with the usual assortment of Bikini Bottom residents nursing their injuries. Plankton tried to ignore the pain. A few minutes later, a doctor with a stethoscope around his neck called, "Plankton?" Karen gave him a gentle nudge and they followed into an examination room. The doctor took a look at his antenna, examining the swollen appendage, and Plankton's face contorted with each touch. The doctor spoke calmly, "We're going to need to perform surgery to repair the damage. It's nothing to worry about. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning." Plankton's eye grew wide with dread, while Karen took the news in stride, already planning what she would need to bring him for comfort during their stay. Once outside the hospital, Plankton's mood quickly soured. "Surgery? How could you let this happen, Karen?" he snapped. "It's your own fault for messing with those inventions," she retorted. They both knew the real culprit was his relentless pursuit of the Krabby Patty secret formula, but the pain made Plankton more irritable than usual. They went home in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a spatula. As they approached the Chum Bucket, Plankton's laboratory and their shared home, Karen finally spoke up. "Look, Plankton, we need to get you ready for tomorrow. You should rest." Plankton nodded begrudgingly. Karen sighed, knowing she had her work cut out for her if she wanted to ensure Plankton's recovery went smoothly. She helped him to their bedroom. Karen began to pack a bag filled with things to keep his spirits high during their stay. She tossed in a blanket, and a stack of comics featuring Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy, and even a teddy bear. Karen couldn't help but reflect on how Plankton's obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had led to so many disasters. Despite his constant failures, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for his never-ending quest. It was clear that he was driven by something deeper than mere greed; perhaps it was the desire for respect or the thrill of the chase that kept his tiny body and mind going. The next morning she got out of bed. Plankton's surgery was scheduled for 8 AM. She needs to get him up so they can go. Plankton was lying in bed. Karen sets the bag by the door before turning back to him, his good antenna twitching in his sleep as he continued to snore. She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Gently, she shook him. "Plankton, it's time to wake up," she whispered. He groaned and opened his eye, looking up at her with a mix of fear and resentment. She knew the surgery was weighing heavily on his mind. The hospital was quiet this early as they made their way to the surgery wing. Plankton's heart raced as they walked in, his antenna throbbing. He took a deep breath to focus on the comforting sound of Karen's voice as the doctors and nurses prepared for the procedure. Karen sat by the bed with their bag in her lap. "Here," she said, handing him the teddy bear, "This will help you feel better." Plankton took it, feeling slightly embarrassed but also some comfort. He squeezed it tightly to his chest as the nurse draped the blanket over him. The nurse came in to administer the medication. Plankton's grip tightened on the teddy bear. "Just breathe deep," they coached. Karen watched as the medicine began to take effect. Plankton's eye grew heavy and his breathing slowed. He looked so vulnerable lying there, his defensive armor of anger and sarcasm stripped away. It was moments like these that reminded her why she put up with his shenanigans. As the anesthesia took hold, Plankton's grip on the teddy bear loosened. His body went slack, and he was soon fast asleep, his breaths deep and even as his mind drifted into oblivion. The doctors and nurses moved swiftly once he was out, preparing the surgical instruments as Plankton's snores echoed gently through the sterile room as Karen watches them begin the operation on his antenna. Her gaze was firmly fixed on Plankton's sleeping face, studying the way his expression softened in slumber, his mouth parted slightly in a way that made him almost seem... peaceful. When they finished the procedure, the doctor smiled. "Went perfectly, he did so well," he said to Karen. The nurse nodded in agreement. Karen felt a weight lift from her shoulders. They wheeled Plankton to a recovery room, and she followed closely behind, her eyes never leaving his tiny form. The room was dimly lit, with a gentle beep from the monitor attached to him, keeping track of his vital signs. The nurse helped transfer him to the bed, his arm draped over the side. She pulled the blanket over him as the teddy bear was placed under his arm. The nurse helped him settle into the bed, adjusting his pillows and covering him with a warm blanket. Plankton's chest rose and fell rhythmically, his snores now quiet. Karen sat in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing motion. The room was dim, the only light coming from the glow of the medical equipment. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic environment of the Chum Bucket, filled with the clanking and whirring of his never-ending inventions. Plankton stirred, his single antenna waving slightly as he woke up groggily. The pain from his surgery was managed by the drugs, but his mind was a fog. He blinked several times, trying to bring the room into focus. He felt a warm hand in his. "Karen?" he croaked out. Her eyes snapped to his, relief flooding her face. "You're awake," she said, her voice soft. She squeezed his hand back gently. The doctor walked in, a clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at Plankton. "Tired," Plankton replied, his voice hoarse from the surgery. Karen leaned over the bed rail to get a better look at him. The nurse offered him a cup of water with a straw, which he took gratefully. "Your antenna is going to be okay," the doctor said, his tone reassuring. "We've managed to repair the damage. You'll need to keep it wrapped and protected for a today, but it should be as good as new soon." Plankton nodded, still feeling the fog of anesthesia. His eye searched the room slowly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings of the recovery room. "You might sleep for the rest of today, which is normal and totally ok!" The doctor left the room, leaving Karen to watch over Plankton. She sat in the chair beside him, her hand still holding his, feeling his fingers tighten around hers as he fought the urge to drift back into sleep. "What's the plan?" Plankton mumbled, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. "Rest," Karen said firmly. "Lots of it. That's what the doctor ordered." She gave his hand another squeeze. The nurse checked his bandages and removed his IV. "Hah?" "Alright, Plankton," she said with a smile, "you're all set to go home." Karen stood up, feeling the relief wash over her. She helped him sit up, his movements sluggish from the lingering effects of the anesthesia. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and she noticed his antenna wobble slightly as he found his balance. With Karen's assistance, They made their way slowly down the corridor. The hospital's bright lights felt harsh to Plankton's half-open eye, and the smell of antiseptic made him twitch. His antenna, now wrapped in a fresh bandage, pulsed with a dull ache, but the pain was nothing compared to the exhaustion that weighed down his every movement. Karen walked beside him, her hand ready to catch him if he fell. Outside, the early afternoon sun shone down on Bikini Bottom, casting long shadows over the sidewalk. Karen helped Plankton into the car, making sure he was buckled in tightly before putting the bag in the back. She got his blanket and leaned his seat back, giving him extra room to rest. Plankton leaned his head back, his eye already closing. The gentle hum of the engine was soothing, and he felt his body begin to relax. Karen started the car and pulled out of the hospital's parking lot. The drive home was quiet, with only the occasional snore from Plankton to break the silence. She glanced over at him, his chest rising and falling steadily.

TIPS For CHECKs Feel the instruments and get comfortable with them. Ex: at the dentist, you’re weary of the suction straw. If no plastic cups for rinsing, ask them for some or, have them turn the suction on a low setting and feel it with your finger before they use it in your mouth. Perhaps they can put something on if you don’t like the sucking noise. See how you feel with the specific doctor. Ex: Dr. A seems hurried and strict, but Dr. B seems more empathetic. Or perhaps ask if a nurse can be in the room with you to. Try having the doctor teach you how much you can do. Ex: for a strep throat test, ask if you can swab your own throat, even have them hold your hand whilst you do it in a mirror. Or tell them the way your throat’s structure may find it easier to tilt, etc. (my search NeuroFabulous)

~ Considering your sensory needs- pack a bag with sensory aids such as headphones, earplugs, coloured glasses, stim tools, ice, comfort items and so on to support your comfort whilst at your appointment. Considering your communication needs- perhaps take a trusted friend or family 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 as verbal speech. Wear suitable clothing or dress 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 body. Allow yourself to physically rest or sleep once back at home.

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).

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅♥]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

💉 🩹 💉 🩹 💉 🩹 💉 🩹

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

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

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

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

💉 💊 💉 💊 🏩 💊 🩹 👁 🩹

💊🩹🩺💉🩸

🏩🩹🫁🎈🧸💉🔪💀🕷️🩰🫀🦠🩸⚕️🔮👁️‍🗨️

🩹🦴🤍🐁☁️

⚕️🏩💉🚑🩻🦴🩺🩹💊

Take This Snore and Shove it Mark Gleeson suffocated in his sleep because he inserted two tampons in his nostrils before going to bed. It’s believed that the 26-year-old from Hampshire, England was just trying to cure his snoring problem. No word on if it helped.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 1 Plankton's foot slipped on the uneven stone. His arms flailed in a desperate attempt to keep his balance. The sickening crack of bone on bone echoed through the stillness as Karen watched her husband Plankton crumple, his face a mask of pain. The quiet evening was shattered by his agonized scream. Karen rushed to his side. Plankton was clutching his leg, his eye squeezed shut. The angle of his lower leg was grotesque, unnatural. It was clear something was very wrong. She didn't need to be a doctor to know that the sound of the snap had been his middle leg bones, breaking. Karen raced as she knelt beside him, his pain a palpable presence. Plankton's breaths came quick and shallow, punctuated by grunts of pain; it was already swelling, the bone jutting under the skin. She knew they had to act fast. "Hold on," she whispered fiercely. "We need to get you to a hospital." Their quiet neighborhood was quickly alight with the wails of an approaching ambulance. The stark white and red lights bobbed through the trees, casting eerie shadows on their panic-stricken faces. The moments stretched into an eternity before the doors swung open and medical personnel flooded out, their movements efficient and calm, contrasting with the chaos of the scene. They moved quickly, strapping Plankton onto a stretcher, his screams of agony piercing the night air as they carefully straightened his leg and secured it in a makeshift splint as Karen hops in. The ambulance lurched forward, the wheels eating up the pavement as they sped toward the hospital. Karen held his hand tightly. "Ma'am, you might want to accompany him into the surgery room, as he'll need an operation." They told Karen. Upon arrival, the doctor spoke in hushed, professional tones, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "It's a serious fracture. We'll need to perform a tibiofibular repair. It's a complex procedure, but our team is prepared. You can stay by him as we operate. Let's get him comfortable first." Karen nodded. "I understand." They transferred him to the operating table, gently arranging his limbs with the precision of experience. Karen held his hand, her eyes never leaving his as the anesthesiologist prepared the medication. Plankton was visibly nervous, his eye darting between the doctor and his wife. To help ease his nerves, the nurse offered Plankton a warm blanket and a stuffed bear, and he clutched it to his chest. The anesthesiologist stepped back, thinking for a moment before speaking up. "We have anesthesia. We can try that. It's not our usual protocol, but in your case, it might be the best option." Karen felt the grip of Plankton's hand tighten around hers. "It'll be okay," she assured him, trying to mirror the nurse's calm demeanor. The doctor nodded in agreement. "We've done this before. We'll take good care of you." The anesthetic began to flow into his veins, and Plankton's eyelid grew heavy. His breathing slowed, and the room grew quiet as his grip loosened and his hand went slack in Karen's. She leaned in, whispering, "I love you," as his eye closed fully, snores now coming from his open mouth. The doctor gave a nod to the anesthesiologist, who nodded back in confirmation. The surgery could begin. Once they finished the surgery, they bandaged Plankton's leg with a cast that went from his toes to his hip, and wheeled him to the recovery room. The doctor explained that it was a successful procedure, though he'd be asleep for several hours. The room was a soft symphony of beeps and whispers, a stark contrast to the chaos of the operating theater. Karen waited, her fingers intertwined with his, feeling his pulse steady and strong under her fingertips. The nurse dimmed the lights. "He's reacting nicely to the anesthesia. It's normal and ok if today he tends to doze off easily." Karen nodded. As Plankton slept on, the nurse adjusts his stuffed bear so that it doesn't press against his cast. She smiles reassuringly at Karen. "He's going to be okay," she says softly. "We'll keep a close eye on his vitals, yet he should be coming around shortly." Karen nods, gratitude in her screen, and squeezes his hand gently. "You can even talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes it helps to hear a familiar voice." Karen leans closer to Plankton's sleeping form. "You're going to be okay. You're going to recover, and we're going to get through this." The nurse nods, a sympathetic smile on her face as she checks the IV dripping pain relievers into his arm. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens groggily, looking around the room in confusion. He winces as the light pierces his pupil, and Karen quickly reaches over to dim the lamp. "It's okay," she says soothingly. "You're in the hospital. You had an accident." His eye finds hers and relaxes slightly as recognition sets in. "My...my leg," he mumbles, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. Karen nods, her thumb brushing his knuckles. "They fixed it. You had surgery. You're going to be okay." Plankton tries to move, but the weight of the cast stops him. "What...happened?" The doctor enters the recovery room. "You had a nasty fall. Do you remember?" Plankton's eye drifts closed, trying to piece together the fragmented moments. The pain, the lights, the sound of his own screams. He nods slightly, the memory firming like concrete in his mind. "We've repaired it. You'll be in this cast for a while, but with rest, you'll be back to normal." Plankton nods again. The doctor nods to Karen. "He'll be sleepy for a bit. We've given him some pain medication." Karen nods. Plankton's eyelid flutters, his gaze unfocused. "Can I... see it?" he asks, his voice slurred by the anesthesia. Karen nods and gently lifts the blanket. The cast, white and pristine, extends from his toes to his hip. "It's going to take some time, but you'll be okay," she repeats, her voice soothing. Plankton's eye focuses on the cast. "It's...big," he murmurs, his voice trailing off as the weight of the medication pulls him back under. His eye droops closed, and his breathing steadies into the rhythmic pattern of sleep. Karen watches his chest rise and fall as they remove the IV. "He'll be in and out of it for a while. It's normal. The body needs rest after surgery." Karen nods, trying to absorb the doctor's words. She's seen people with broken legs before, but never one she loves so much. She thanks the doctor, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's hand moves, his fingers searching for hers. "Karen," he whispers, his voice thick with sleep. Her hand slides into his, squeezing gently. "I'm here," she murmurs, her screen never leaving his peaceful face. The surgery had been a success. The nurse looks to Karen. "I'll get the wheelchair." The chair squeaks into place, and Plankton's eye opens. He looks at Karen, the question in his gaze clear. She nods. "It's time to go home."

http://www.tamponalert.org.uk/akta/index1.htm

Alice's Story Alice Kilvert, aged 15, died on Tuesday, 26th November 1991 of tampon-related Toxic Shock Syndrome at Trafford General Hospital, Manchester. Alice's symptoms were initially very mild and did not cause any undue concern. On the Sunday prior to her dEAth she complained of a headache which persisted, but eased with aspirin. During Sunday evening she was able to watch television, but she was sick͞ during the night. Although very pale on Monday morning, she went to school in order to start her mock GCSE exams, but was taken home as she appeared to be developing influenza.. Alice went sraight to bed and by tea time she had a slight temperature. At 7pm she was alert enough to talk about the early evening TV she had missed, but by 10pm she seemed vague and confused and a little faint. The next morning Alice's breathing was shallow and she had a higher temperature, so the emergency doctor was called. The doctor phoned for an ambulance for Alice to be taken to hospıtal, but when the ambulance staff tested for bľood pressure, it was so low it hardly registered. She arrived at hospıtal at 9am and her condition was diagn0sed as either TOXIC SHOCK SYNDROME or meningitis, and treatment began. She was taken into Intensive Care and put onto a ventilator as her breathing was giving cause for concern. However, the strain on her heart brought on two cardiac arrests. She did not recover from the second one and died at 1pm. http://www.tamponalert.org.uk/akta/alicesst.htm

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

____ (____|-, : ,` ;

In memory of Alice 26th September 1997, 1:00am One day 15-year-old Alice Kilvert was revising for her mock GCSEs. The next she was đeađ. Toxic Shock Syndrome was to blame. Now her teacher mother has sworn that no other schoolgirl should meet the same fate. Reva Klein reports. It was the night before her moc͞k GCSEs at Urmston Grammar School in Manchester that 15-year-old Alice Kilvert complained of aches. Her parents Jenny and Peter weren’t unduly concerned and saw her off to school the next day. Thirty-six hours later, while her schoolmates were fighting the butterflies in their stomachs before their next exam, Alice was fıghtıng for her life in intensive care. She lost the figEht. Doctors unequivocally cited Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS) as the cause of dEath. Alice had been menstruating and using tampons when she became ıll. Six years on, Alice’s geology teacher mother is an expert on Toxic Shock Syndrome. Since they lost their daughter, she and Peter have been collecting information about TSS from medical experts and survivors of the disease, adapting it into digestible form for school nurses and teachers, and disseminating it from their home. She has made a video, taken on the manufacturers of tampons to make their information to users more readable and works tirelessly for a Tampon Safety Bill to be introduced in Parliament. Jenny set up the Alice Kilvert Tampon Alert as an information service and campaign “almost immediately after Alice’s dEath. We wanted to use her story to warn̵ other people.” But there are no “shock horror” warnings. “We’ve been very careful about how we present information,” says Jenny. “We don’t want to lose a dialogue with people who want to use tampons. So we’re not saying ‘don’t use tampons because my daughter died’, because people wouldn’t listen and nobody likes being told what to do. Instead, we tell the facts and how to minimise the risks, and then let them make up their own minds.” The risks are small - and figures are difficult to establish since TSS is not a notifiable disease. But according to the Public Health Laboratory Service there are around 40 cases in the UK each year. Only 18 are “confirmed” or “probable”, and, of these, two or three are fatal. Sixty per cent of TSS sufferers are under 25. Dr Sarah Brewer of the Toxic Shock Syndrome Information Service - funded by tampon manufacturers - says only half the total cases are associated with tampon use. The others, affecting men, children and non-menstruating women, are the result of burns, boils, insect bites or surgerıes. The dısease is caused by toxin-producing strains of the staphylococcus aureus bacterium, harboured in the bodies of between 4 and 10 per cent of people. A 1986 paper in the US Journal of Adolescent Health Care by Dr Lawrence D’Angelo offers insights into the possible dangers. “Teens who use tampons have a risk of TSS that is greater than women who are older and use the same feminine hygiene products,” he says. Research cited in the Toxic Shock Syndrome Information Service literature says that between 5 and 15 per cent of 10 to 19-year-old girls have low levels of antibodies to the toxins produced by the staph bacterla. Jenny Kilvert is clear about what the data means in real terms. “For a lot of young women, tampons will be safe to use. But for some girls, using one for a couple of hours will set off the toxıc reaction because they don’t have immunity.” The Kilverts and their campaign partners, the Women’s Environmental Network, are concerned at the targeting of young women by tampon manufacturers, with adverts showing tampons as the great liberator of young womankind - day and night. “The evidence shows that the higher the absorbency of tampons, the higher the risk,” says Jenny. The Toxic Shock Syndrome Information Service recommends that women use the lowest absorbency tampons suitable to their needs. It says that the rısk of tampon-related TSS rises with greater tampon absorbency. “But in the UK, absorbencies aren’t standardised,” says Jenny Kilvert. “Our campaign believes that, to minimise risk, you should change a tampon every four to six hours - including the middle of the night - and use the lowest absorbency possible.” Evidence from Dr Jeffrey Parsonet of the Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Centre in Lebanon, New Hampshire, also indicates that continuous tampon use over 24 hours increases the rısk In other words, if you use a tampon at night, you should use a sanitary towel for part of the previous and following day. Jenny Kilvert took early retirement last year and now works as a part-time supply teacher. Yet she is busier than ever. She gets up to a dozen requests a week for leaflets from health promotion units working in primary and secondary schools as well as from individuals. And then there is the campaigning work. Last week she met Tessa Jowell, Minister of Public Health, who will now speak to tampon manufacturers about the use of all-night tampons. Her department will also be liaising with the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists to confirm the medical profession’s view on all-night tampon use. The campaign is an important part of Jenny’s life. “This has certainly been therapeutic for us,” she admits. “It allows us to talk about Alice, to keep her spirit alive. Through the campaign I’ve gone to places and met people I would have never met before. “Every year, we have a party on Alice’s birthday with TSS surviv0rs and the families of those who haven’t survived. But I try to make sure the campaign doesn’t take over every single minute.” For details of resources, contact Jenny Kilvert, Alice Kilvert Tampon Alert, 16 Blinco Road, Urmston, Manchester M41 9NF

|||||| | o o | | > | | \_/ | \___/ __| |__ / \ | | | | _________________| | | |_____________---__ / | |_____| | / / / /| mga / /_| _ |_\ / / / / | / / / / / / /__/ / /| /____________________/ / / /__________/___\_/_/ / | |____________________| |_| |__________________|/ | |____________________| |_| |__________________| / ____| | | | | | || | / | o o | o o || o o | / |______________|_____________||_______________|/

https://www.ovulationcalculator.com/cramping-pain

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/mittelschmerz/symptoms-causes/syc-20375122

"We removed Plankton's wisdom teeth. He's still asleep, you can stay with him." Said the oral surgeon to Karen. They've just finished and lead Karen into the room. Plankton is lying in the hospital bed, his face a mask of peace, the only signs of the recent surgery being the gauze in his mouth and the drool seeping out the side. His cheeks are slightly swollen, and she wonders when he'll wake up. The doctor said it could take a while. The IV line snakes up his arm. Karen pulls a chair up beside the bed. She takes his hand and holds it gently, feeling the warmth of his skin contrast with the coolness of her own palm. The room is sterile, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background. The faint smell of disinfectant fills the space. She looks around the room, noticing the monitors beeping in rhythm with Plankton's breathing and heart rate. The nurse comes in and checks the machines, making a few quiet notes on a clipboard. She smiles at Karen, "He's doing well. Just let him sleep. It's the best thing right now." Karen nods, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly, willing him to feel her presence. She wonders what dreams he's having, if any, behind his closed lid. Time seems to crawl as Karen watches him sleep. She tries to read a book, but the words blur together. Her thoughts drift to their lives before this moment, their shared laughter, their arguments, the quiet moments of understanding. Her gaze lingers on his swollen cheeks, his chest rising and falling with each breath. A soft groan escapes his lips and his eye begins to flutter open. Slowly, Plankton comes to, his vision blurred by the anesthesia's last hangover. He blinks, trying to focus on Karen's face. She sets aside her book and smiles at him, her screen welcoming him back to the world of the conscious. "Hi," she says softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton makes a sound that's somewhere between a whine and a grunt. His eye wanders the room before finally settling on hers. "What...what happened?" he slurs, the words barely audible through the gauze. Karen's smile widens a bit. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, remember?" He nods slightly. The nurse reappears, checking his vitals again with a gentle touch. "Time to go home," she says, removing the gauze. They make their way out of the hospital, Karen supporting Plankton gently as he stumbles, his legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Karen helps Plankton into the car, buckling him in and adjusting the seat so he can lean back and rest. He nods off almost immediately, his breathing evening out as the car starts and they pull away from the hospital. The drive home is quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the hum of the engine. Karen keeps glancing over, checking on him, her concern etched into every line on her screen. The pain medication is strong, keeping him in a half-awake state. Each time he wakes, he looks around, disoriented, before his eye finds hers and his expression relaxes. Once they arrive, Karen guides him to the couch, his body feeling heavier than ever before. He slumps into the cushions and she grabs the ice pack from the cooler. "Hold this to your cheeks," she instructs, placing the cold compress against his skin. He nods obediently, his eye already glazing over with the promise of sleep. The TV flickers on, its blue light washing over the room. Karen finds a sitcom they both enjoy, hoping the familiar laughter will ease his pain and keep them both company. But Plankton's snores soon overpower the TV's audio, his head lolling to the side. She smiles, knowing he's in a deep slumber, and covers him with a blanket. The house is eerily quiet except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Karen moves around the kitchen, preparing a soft meal for when he wakes, her mind racing with thoughts of what the next few days will be like. Plankton's recovery will be slow, but she's ready to take care of him. She's his rock, his support, and she'll do anything to help him feel better.

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 )

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

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

"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

"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 )

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

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?”

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.

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

💊🧪👁️🩸🍄🩺☠️☎️🏥🚑💉🦷🩹🧠🔪

MAR 08 When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolize other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people. There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened, another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised, the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in. The doctor said, “That was the woman I just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn’t you see the red wristband she was wearing?” The woman smiled, raised her arm, and said, “Something like this?”