WISDOM WITH TEETH 1/2
Karen glanced at
the clock, its digital
display reading
7:58 AM.
"Alright, Plankton,
it's time to get up.
The dentist's
appointment is
at 8:30,"
she says.
Groaning, Plankton
pulls the covers over
his head. "Do we have
to go right now?"
he mumbles. "I'm not
even hungry for
breakfast." Karen
rolls her eyes and
smiles. "No, honey,
you're not supposed
to eat before the
surgery. Come on."
The drive to the
dental office is
filled with tension.
The scent of antiseptic
greets them as they
walk in.
Finally, the nurse
calls his name, and
his heart skips a beat.
Karen squeezes his hand
reassuringly as they
follow her down the
hallway. The chair in
the operating room is
a monstrous contraption
that looms over him
like a predator ready
to devour him. The
nurse tells him to sit,
and he does, reluctantly.
The doctor enters the
room. He explains the
procedure in detail. The nurse
wraps a blood pressure
cuff around his arm, and
he feels the squeeze. "Everything
looks good," she says,
smiling. "Now, let's get
you all set up."
The anesthesiologist
arrives, wheeling in a
cart filled with syringes
and tubes.
"Ok Plankton," the
doctor says calmly. "This
is just to help you relax."
Plankton's eye widens, but
the room quickly starts to
blur. Karen kisses him
on the forehead as if from
far away.
The anesthetic takes hold,
and Plankton feels himself
slipping into a deep sleep,
his fear momentarily
fading to the background.
The last thing he hears
is the rhythmic beep of
the heart monitor, and then
silence.
Karen watches her husband
from the chair beside him,
his chest rising and falling
evenly. The doctor and his team
spring into action, their
movements swift and precise.
The nurse notices her tension
and offers her a magazine,
but she can't tear her eyes
away from Plankton's still
face, his mouth now open
and vulnerable.
The whirring of the drill
starts up, and she clenches
her fists in her lap.
She tries to focus on his
breathing, until
finally, she hears the doctor
say, "Alright, we're all done."
Relief floods through her,
and she exhales deeply.
The nurse gently guides
Plankton into the recovery
room, his face now swollen
and his mouth packed with
cotton. Karen takes his hand
and squeezes it.
The room is cool and dim,
designed to soothe patients
coming out of anesthesia.
The doctor enters, his mask
now removed, and gives
them a thumbs up. "It went
well. No
complications," he says, and
Karen's shoulders drop in
relief. She leans
in and whispers, "You did
so well, honey," though he's
still too asleep to hear.
The nurse explains that
he'll be groggy for a while
and that the numbness
will wear off. Karen nods,
taking in the doctor's instructions
about pain medication and
diet restrictions. Plankton's
snores fill the quiet
space, a testament to
his deep sleep. She watches
his chest rise and fall,
the rhythm comforting and
steady. The beeping of the
monitors creates a backdrop
to the scene, a gentle reminder
that he's ok. She smooths
his antennae with affection.
Karen's mind wanders to the
day ahead. The errands
they'll need to run, the meals
she'll have to prep that won't
upset his tender mouth. She'll
have to be extra careful
with him, making sure
he doesn't accidentally bite
his cheek or tongue. The
thought makes her smile,
knowing he'll be extra cranky
with the pain. But she's ready
for it, ready to be his
rock through the recovery.
The nurse checks Plankton's
vitals, her eyes flickering
to the monitor before
giving Karen an encouraging
nod. "He's doing great." Karen nods,
her gaze never leaving him.
As Plankton starts to stir,
his eye blinking open, the
world coming back into focus,
he looks at Karen with a
dazed expression.
"Wheh am I?" he slurs, his voice
muffled by the cotton in his mouth.
Karen laughs softly, her voice
soothing like a lullaby.
"You're at the dentist, sweetie.
You just had your wisdom teeth
taken out. It's all over now."
He tries to sit up, but the nurse
gently presses him back down.
"Take it easy," she says. "You're
still pretty out of it."
Plankton's eye darts around the
recovery room, looking for
anything familiar. Karen's face
is a welcome sight.
He reaches for her hand,
his own feeling like it's made
of rubber. "Whewe awe we?"
he asks again, his mind foggy
with confusion.
The nurse laughs kindly. "You're
still a little loopy from the
anesthesia," she explains.
"You're at the dentist's office.
Do you remember the surgery?"
Plankton nods slightly, the
memory of the needle piercing
his skin coming back in a
rush. "Ow...teef," he mumbles,
his hand moving to his mouth.
Karen squeezes his hand, her
smile filled with a mix of
relief and amusement. "Don't
worry, you're ok," she says,
speaking slowly and clearly.
"You're going to be groggy for
a bit, but I'm here with you."
The nurse starts to remove
the cotton, and Plankton winces
at the sudden coldness.
"I'm fwothless," he murmurs,
his voice still thick with
the anesthesia. He tries to sit
up again, but his body
feels like it's made of jelly.
The nurse places an ice pack
on his cheek, and the coolness
spreads through him like a wave.
"You're fine, Mr. Plankton,"
she says. "Your wife will take
you home soon."
Karen watches with a blend
of love and amusement as
he blinks rapidly, his eyes
trying to clear the fog.
"Whath happened tho me?"
he asks, his voice cracking.
"You had surgery, remember?"
she says, stroking his forehead.
He nods, but his gaze is still
faraway, lost in the haze
of the drugs.
"I wanth ice wath," he says,
pouting like a child who's lost
his favorite toy. Karen laughs.
"Here, honey," she says, holding
the cup to him. He sips
slowly, the cold water soothing
his dry throat. He clutches the
cup with both hands, his grip
weak but determined.
"Whewe am I?" he asks again,
his voice a whisper. Karen
smiles. "You're in the
recovery room," she repeats.
"They just took out your wisdom
teeth." Plankton nods, his eye
half-closed. He looks like a
little boy who's just woken up
from a nap, unsure of where
he is or what's happening.
He tries to sit up once more,
his body moving in slow
motion. "Whewe's my bwanket?"
he mumbles.
"You don't have a blanket, but
you have me," Karen says, her voice
gentle. The nurse returns with a set of
instructions.
"Now, remember, no hot
food or drinks for the next
few days, ok?" the nurse
instructs, her tone motherly.
He nods, his eye drooping.
"No soup either," Karen adds,
smiling at the nurse's nod.
"Only soft things, like mashed
potatoes and pudding."
The nurse hands him a
cup of ice chips. "Here you go,"
she says, placing them in his
hand. He looks at her with a mix
of gratitude and confusion.
"Ice wath?" he repeats, his
fingers fumbling to bring
the cup to his mouth. The cold
sensation jolts him back to reality,
and he crunches on them with
gusto, dropping a few onto his
chest. Karen quickly wipes them
off with a napkin, trying not to
laugh at his childlike antics.
The nurse leaves them with a final
smile and a promise to check
back soon. Plankton looks around
the room again, his eye wide and
uncertain.
"Whath's thith?" he
asks, pointing
at the IV in his
hand.
"It's your pain
medication, Plankton,"
Karen explains, her voice
soft and soothing. "It's to
help you feel better."
He nods, his eye
half-closed, and snuggles
against her shoulder. "Tank
you, Kahen," he mumbles,
his speech still slurred.
"You're welcome," she
whispers, stroking his hair.
"You're going to be ok."
The room spins slightly
around him, and he feels
his eyelid growing heavy.
With the coldness of the
recovery room and the warmth
of Karen beside him, Plankton
slips back into a doze, his
breathing deepening.
The nurse returns, checking
his vitals and giving Karen
a knowing smile. "It's normal
for him to be a bit out of it.
The anesthesia can take a while
to wear off. He'll be more
lucid in a bit."
Plankton's eye flutters open,
and he looks around the room
again, drool forming at the
corner of his mouth
as he tries to articulate.
"Whewe's...my...bwanket?" he asks,
his voice a slurred mess.
Karen chuckles with love and pity.
"You don't need a blanket,"
she says, wiping the drool
away with a tissue. "You're
right here with me."
He looks down at the ice chips
in his hand, and then back up
at Karen, his expression
puzzled. "Mashed potatoes?"
he repeats, his voice hopeful.
"Yes, mashed potatoes," she confirms,
laughing lightly. "And maybe
some Jell-O for dessert."
The mention of food seems to
perk him up, and his eye
brightens slightly. But the
drowsiness wins, and he lets
his head loll back onto
the chair, his breathing
deepening.
Karen watches him with a
mixture of love and concern.
The sight of him, so vulnerable
and childlike, tugs at her
heartstrings. She can't help but
wonder what kind of day
this will be, caring for him like
this. But she's ready for it,
ready to be the strong one.