NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH i
"Why do we have to go so early?" he grumbled. "I know, sweetie," Karen said, patting
his hand reassuringly.
"But it's for the best. You'll be out like a light during the surgery, and you won't
feel a thing."
The nurse noticed his distress and offered a kind smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Plankton.
We're going to make this
as comfortable for you as possible. First things first, let's get you in and then we'll
start with some
anesthesia."
Karen watched as Plankton reluctantly climbed into the chair. The nurse dimmed the
lights and adjusted the
chair's recline. She placed a warm blanket over him, and the softness enveloped him
like a comforting
embrace, the nurse preparing Plankton for the surgery. She chatted away, "So, any
plans for the weekend?"
"Not really," he said, "Just recovery."
The nurse nodded.
She began to insert the IV, talked him through each step, her voice a comforting
lullaby guiding him into a
state of relaxation.
She continued to engage in light conversation, told about her weekend plans, a
lifeline to the outside world
that seemed so far away in the cold, clinical environment.
As the anesthesia began to work, Plankton felt his body grow heavier, his eyelid
drooping. "You're doing great,"
she said softly. "Just keep breathing, ok?"
Plankton's thoughts began to blur together. The doctor's voice grew distant, his
words melding into a
comforting murmur as Plankton felt himself slipping away.
The last thing he heard was Karen's voice, a gentle whisper in his ear. "I'm here,"
she said, her hand holding
onto his with a fierce tenderness. "I love you."
And then there was nothing, the last sensation he felt before everything went quiet.
The anesthetist monitored Plankton's vitals, ensuring he remained safely asleep
throughout the procedure.
Plankton was a picture of peace, mouth agape as the anesthesia kept him blissfully
unaware of the world
around him. The nurse's eyes flick from the monitors to Plankton's serene face.
Plankton's body didn't even flinch. Plankton's face remained relaxed, his breathing
even, as the anesthetic kept
him in a state of blissful unconsciousness, ensuring that his comfort remained top
priority.
Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence
that soothed the room. The
nurse gently swabbed his mouth, keeping the area clean and clear.
The doctor stitched up the small incisions with a gentle touch, while the nurse
cleaned Plankton's mouth. The
anesthetist monitored the levels, ensuring a smooth and safe emergence from the
depths of
unconsciousness.
The doctor looked at Karen, his eyes weary but his smile reassuring. "It's all done," he
said. "Everything went smoothly.
He's still sleeping it off, but you can go in and see him."
Karen rushed in, her screen searching for Plankton. He was there, lying back in the
chair, his mouth slightly
open, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked so peaceful,
vulnerable. She reached out and
touched his hand, for the surgery was over.
His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept. "He's doing great," she
assured her. "The surgery went
well."
Karen leaned over Plankton, as she brushed his antennae with her hand. She took in
the sight of him, the
gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snorish sounds escaping his mouth. His
face was a portrait of peace,
a stark contrast to the chaos of the surgery that had just taken place.
The nurse finished her work and dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a soft glow
that cast shadows across
the floor. Karen pulled up a chair and sat down, her hand finding Plankton's again.
"You're ok," she murmured,
willing him to hear her voice, to feel her presence. "You're going to be ok."
Karen's entire world was contained in reassuring her that he was still there.
The nurse approached with a wad of gauze. "We need to put this in his mouth to help
with bleeding," she
explained gently. Karen nodded. The nurse placed the gauze with the same care she
had shown throughout
the entire ordeal, pressing it gently against the raw, tender spots where Plankton's
teeth had once been.
The nurse finished her cleanup and checked Plankton's vitals one last time. "He'll
come around soon," she
assured. "The anesthesia takes a bit to wear off."
His breathing was still deep and steady, the gentle rumble of his snores filling the
room. She found comfort in
the mundane sounds of his slumber. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed
to match the beeping of
the heart monitor.
The anesthesia had done its job well, leaving him in a deep, dreamless sleep. His
face was serene. His
antennae lay limp on the chair's headrest, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing
the gauze the nurse had
placed to stem the bleeding.
The drool that had pooled at the corners of his mouth began to seep out onto the chair.
The nurse noticed and
nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's normal," she said.
Plankton's snores grew louder, the drool now a small river that trickled down. Karen
reached out with a
trembling hand, her thumb catching the droplets before they could stain the fabric.
The drool was a stark
reminder of the reality of the situation.
Her screen focused on the slow, steady flow of dribble, forming and breaking away,
each one a little more
substantial than the last. The nurse had said it was normal, but to Karen, it was a
sign of his vulnerability, a
tangible proof of the surgery's aftermath.
As the drool grew into a small puddle on the chair, Karen's resolve to be strong for
him grew stronger. She
grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and gently wiped.
The nurse looked at her with understanding. "It's alright," she said softly. "He'll wake
un his own time."
Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. She felt a strange mix of
love and pity. Here he was,
reduced to a drooling mess in a chair, and yet she had never felt more connected to
him. It was a strange
intimacy, this moment of vulnerability, a silent pact between them that she would
always be there to wipe
away his fears, both literal and figurative.
The nurse moved around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She checked the
machines one last
time before turning to Karen. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, patting the chair
beside Plankton's.
"It'll be a bit before he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable."
Karen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled up a chair and held his
hand tightly, her
thumb brushing back and forth across his knuckles.
"Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You did it, sweetie." She
leaned closer. "The teeth are out. You're okay." She waited, watching the rise and
fall of his chest,
listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, and willing him to open his eye.
"Remember what I said about ice cream?" she asked, her voice a little louder this time.
"You can have as much
as you want when we get home." She tried to keep her tone light, despite the gravity of
the situation. The
thought of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream was supposed to make him smile, but
his face remained
slack.
But she knew he was strong, and he would bounce back. He always did.
"I just want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you. We've been through so
much together,
and I can't imagine my life without you. You're going to wake up soon, and it'll all be
over. And then we can go
home, and I'll take care of you, just like you always take care of me. Remember when we
said 'in sickness and
in health'?" she whispered. "Well, this is definitely a 'sickness' moment, but I'm right
here. And I'll be here
through all the healthy moments too."
The nurse quietly left them a moment of privacy. Karen leaned in closer. "You're going
to feel
a bit funny when you wake up," she said with a soft laugh.
"Your mouth will be sore, and your face will be puffy. But I'll be there. And maybe I'll
let you win at Scrabble for
once." She chuckles. "Just don't let it go to your head."
Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and a low moan escaped his throat. She squeezed his hand.
"That's it, baby," she
encouraged. "You're waking up."
His eye opened slowly dilated and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to
the harsh lights of
the recovery room. He turned his head to the side, and she knew he was searching for her.
"Hi," she said, her
voice a warm whisper. "It's me, Karen. You're ok."
His gaze found hers, and she saw the flicker of recognition. "Where am I?" he slurred,
his voice thick and
groggy.
"You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing.
"You just had your
wisdom teeth out."
Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed
him back down. "Easy,"
she said. "You need to rest."
"But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak.
"I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her cool hand. "But you're doing great.
Just stay still for a little
while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications."
He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled.