Neurodisabilities Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Neurodisabilities Emojis & Symbols Seizure PhasesSeizures take on many different form

Seizure Phases Seizures take on many different forms and have a beginning (prodrome and aura), middle (ictal) and end (post-ictal) stage. These phases are described below. Beginning phase Prodrome stage During the prodromal stage some people can tell when a seizure is on its way. Not all people experience this stage. Some common signs can include: Mood changes Anxiety Feeling lightheaded Difficulty sleeping Difficulty staying focused Behaviour changes. Aura Auras are generally considered an early part of the seizure. Symptoms of an aura may include: Déjà vu (a sense that something has happened before when in fact it hasn’t) Jamais vu (a feeling that you’re seeing something you know well for the first time) Odd smells, sounds or tastes Dizziness Vision difficulties Numbness or ‘pins and needles’ in parts of the body Nausea Headache Panic Feelings of intense fear Sometimes a person may have an aura which doesn’t progress to become a more severe or prolonged seizure. Some people don’t experience an aura at all, and their seizure has no early warning signs. Middle (ictal) phase The middle (ictal) stage of a seizure is called the ictal phase. It’s the time from the first symptom to the end of the seizure activity. It is during this time that intense electrical activity is occurring in the brain. Some common signs of this phase include: Loss of awareness Memory lapse Feeling confused Difficulty hearing Odd smells, sounds or tastes Difficulty speaking or saying strange words Twitching Loss of muscle control Repeated movements (such as lip smacking or chewing) Body convulsions Racing heart Trouble breathing Ending (post-ictal) phase The final post-ictal stage occurs after the active (ictal) part of the seizure. This is the recovery stage and during this phase any physical after effects of the seizure are felt. The type of seizure and the part of the brain involved will determine how long it takes for a person to return to their usual self. Some common signs of this phase include: Confusion Lack of consciousness Tiredness (fatigue) Exhaustion Headache Loss of bladder or bowel control Fear and anxiety Frustration Shame or embarrassment Thirst Nausea Sore muscles Weakness in parts of the body Injury (head, cuts, broken bones) Once the seizure is over, some people may remember having one, remember parts of it, or not remember at all.
For most uteri-bearing people, the paın begins one to three days before the start of an individual’s perıod, peaks 24 hours after bleeding starts, and stops two to three days after bleeding stops. Most people feel it as a continuous dull ache. 40-90% of women of reproductive age suffer from perıod pain. For most women, premenstrual symptoms can start anywhere from one to two weeks before their period begins. Symptoms can vary from woman to woman and may include: Paın: Cramps, backache, headaçhes or migraines, other aches and pains Digestive prob1ems: Bloating, náuseas or upset stߋmach, dıarrhea Feelings: Stress, not feeling like yourself, trouble sleepıng, fqtigue Other: Food cravings, swelling, acne These symptøms usually disappear once your perıod starts. For some women, though, certain symptoms of PMS, such as painful cramping, may last for the first few days of their period.

Related Text & Emojis

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 - 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡. — 𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑛 𝐾𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟
ᶜᵃʳᶜⁱⁿᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿᶜᵉʳ⁾‧ ᶜᵃʳᵈⁱᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵈⁱˢᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵒʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏˢ⁾‧ ᶜˡᵃᵘˢᵗʳᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵉⁿᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴹᴿᴵ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉˢ⁾‧ ᴴᵉᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ⁾‧ ᴹʸˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ᵒʳ ᵍᵉʳᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵉʳᵐˢ⁾‧ ᴺᵒˢᵒᶜᵒᵐᵉᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡˢ⁾‧ ᴺᵒˢᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵉᵃˢᵉ⁾‧ ᴾʰᵃʳᵐᵃᶜᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⁾‧ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ⁾‧ ᵀᵒᵐᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳⁱᵉˢ⁾‧ ᵀʳᵃᵘᵐᵃᵗᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳʸ⁾‧ ᵀʳʸᵖᵃⁿᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ ⁽ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˡᵉˢ⁾
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.--. .--. (_ _) "SICK" (_ _) I CANNOT GO TO SCHOOL TODAY )( -by Shel Silverstein )( Said little Peggy Ann McKay. /__\ /__\ [____] __,--"""""""--,__ [____] "I have the measles and the mumps, ) ( _/ \_ ) ( A gash, a rash, and purple bumps. \__/ / ((((((()))) \ \__/ My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, [ _]/ (((((((())))))) \[ ] I'm going blind in my right eye. [(_`"-._((((((( ))))))--"`_) ] [ ) (((( ,_ _, )))) ( ] My tonsils are as big as rocks, [ / (() |*| |*| (() \ ] I've counted sixteen chicken pox. [/ ()) ''' ''' ()) \ ] And there's one more- ( (() '' ^ '' (() )] ...that's seventeen! [ ())'. C====O.'()) / ] And don't you think [(\_/) (() '-._____.-' (()( ( ] ...my face looks green? ./o o\())____/ \____())____) . :(= Y =)@-----'---`-----@--------: My leg is cut, my eyes are blue- |/`----'/|\ /|\ \It might be instamatic flu. |``________________________________ I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke | |\'.'''.'''.".'.'".'..'".'.'.'."" I'm sure that my left leg is broke. | |'\.'"..'...."'"'..'...'.'.'.'.'..'.\ | |.'\.''.'...'''"'..'..'.'.'.'..'. My hip hurts when I move my chin, | |.'.\.'"..'.'."".'".'..'.'.".'.'. My belly button's caving in, | |.'.'\'.".'.".'.".''.'".'.'".'.'. My back is wrenched, | |.".'.\'.'..'.".'.'.-".'.'.'.- '.' ...my ankle's sprained, | |.'.' .\'.'.''.''.''.''.'.'.''.'' My 'pendix pains each time it rains. | |'.'.' .\'".'.-".'.''".''.-'".'.'.'.".'.'.'.\ \ |.'.'." .\".'.'-'.'".'..'.'.'.'.' My nose is cold, my toes are numb, \|.'.'..".'\".'.''.'..".'.''-'''.' I have a sliver in my thumb. \'.'.'.''.'\.'.''.'..'".'.'..'.'. My neck is stiff, my spine is weak. \.'.'.'".'.\'.'".'.'.'".'.".".'. I hardly whisper when I speak. \'".'.".".'\".'.'.".'.'-".'.".'.'.'."."-".'.'.'\ \.'.".'.".'\'.'.".'-'.''.'.'.'.'.'.".'.'.".'.'.\ \'.'.'".".'\'.'.".'.-''".".'. My tongue is filling up my mouth, \'.".'.'.".\'.'.'.'.".'.'.'. I think my hair is falling out. \".'.".'.".\".'-".." .".'.' My elbow's bent- \ \'.".''.".'\".'.'." .'.' ". ...my spine ain't straight. \".'.-'.".'\.'.'- .'.".'. My temperature is one-o-eight. \".".'.'.'|~.-~~-.~~-~.'~-~-.-'~-~..~~'-~-~-~-~| \'.'.''.'|.".'.'..-'.'. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, \".'..".|".''.''.'.".' There is a hole inside my ear. \'.".'.|".''..'.'.'.' I have a hangnail, and my heart is- \".'.'|".-.'..'..-'.' ...WHAT? \'.'.|.'.'.-'.'.'.".'..'".'.'.".'.'.".'"..| \'.'|'.'.".'.'..'. What's that? What's that you say? \.'|".''.'-'.'.'. You say today is...Saturday? \'|.-.'-'.-".'." G'bye, I'm going out to play!" \|jgs''.'.'.'.'.'-'.'".'.'.'".'.'.'.'"| ~~~~`~~~`~~~``~~~~```~~~~~`~~~~`~~~~~
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✍︎ 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 ✯ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄs 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 |✯| 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 ✯𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅/𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅/𝑬𝑻𝑪 𝑇𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝓡𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝑎 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝑳𝑮𝑩𝑻𝑸+ 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ✯𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 ✯𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐞.𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑦, 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦, 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑𝑦 '𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬' ✯𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐶𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧 ✯𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐴𝑛𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐬 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 ✯𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝙲𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙘, 𝙫𝙖𝙭𝙭𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲/𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 ✯𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐼𝑓 𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑖𝑓 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦
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₊ ⊹ 𝑖 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 ♡₊ ⊹
https://www.ovulationcalculator.com/cramping-pain/
https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/mittelschmerz/symptoms-causes/syc-20375122
𝑖 𝑎𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑖 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
✨️ ᴮᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˢʰ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ✨️.
MOSLEY, Infant Girl - 0Y stillborn white female - b: Mar 13 1910 Deer Creek Twp, Henry Co, MO - d: Mar 13 1910 Deer Creek Twp, Henry Co, MO - fth: John Mosley, born Missouri - mth: Lucy Jane Payne, born Missouri - informant: J. E. ---, Calhoun, MO - cause: uterine inertia - bur: Mar 13 1910 Calhoun Cemetery, Tebo Twp, Henry Co, MO - filed as: Infant Mosley, file no: 9428
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. 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)
https://www.verywellhealth.com/signs-a-cough-is-getting-better-7500660
https://www.verywellhealth.com/sore-throat-and-cough-7369467
| | | | o o | | > | | \_/ | \___/ __| |__ / \ | | | | _________________| | | |_____________---__ / | |_____| | / / / /| mga / /_| _ |_\ / / / / | / / / / / / /__/ / /| /____________________/ / / /__________/___\_/_/ / | |____________________| |_| |__________________|/ | |____________________| |_| |__________________| / ____| | | | | | || | / | o o | o o || o o | / |______________|_____________||_______________|/ _______________________________________________________
https://www.verywellhealth.com/post-nasal-drip-symptoms-causes-and-treatment-5323634#
https://www.goodrx.com/conditions/cough/when-to-see-doctor-for-cough
https://www.goodrx.com/conditions/cold-symptoms/when-to-see-doctor-for-sore-throat
😷 https://www.findatopdoc.com/Parenting/When-a-Child-with-Autism-Refuses-Treatment 😷
😷 https://www.sensoryfriendly.net/how-to-create-a-sensory-friendly-ambulance/ 😷
😷 https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/autism-and-anxiety/201904/medical-visits-and-autism-better-way 😷
𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉
💊🩹🩺💉🩸
~ ✽ ℐ𝓉'𝓈 𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎 ✽ ~
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@notfeelingverywell You know what’s such a good trope When, in hurt comfort fics, the injured/sick one looks so vulnerable that the other characters have a realization about how small/young/fragile they are and get a renewed surge of protectiveness January 16th, 2023, 3:08 PM
FEMALENESS https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fthumbs.dreamstime.com%2Fb%2Fhighlighted-uterus-d-rendered-illustration-female-30723195.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=a84e0d1a792ebf9b2ef83ec18b39b1883888c9f121a20bc0cc2b583394469a50&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fc8.alamy.com%2Fcomp%2FEY2J54%2Fthree-dimensional-image-of-the-uterus-EY2J54.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=8e075cd333c0a9ffa61d0768585feb45abd49f9f55d9a9041adab87a3b4d365b&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fc8.alamy.com%2Fcompes%2Feh7nbx%2Fanatomia-del-utero-humano-ilustracion-eh7nbx.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=71445041d710e7f918b548d725e76bad6f47dae30a27179d11b58628c516805d&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fimage3.zibster.com%2F415%2F22_20200327171330_7260510_large.png&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=9d57f36ebebda6c25add62d757be5d51ad4e87b2887838b3e06e8391cd5d717d&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fi0.wp.com%2Fwww.anatomyqa.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2017%2F06%2Frelations-of-uteus.png%3Fresize%3D604%252C354&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=358aee4eb3a3cb31d51bdea3ac42b5c87e729e0987e58d763a9255986d4aaa6c&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F08%2Fe6%2Fbe%2F08e6bec5d7580267dea01f5d22aef603.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=7af723882ff1ef8bf41742719c062f7d6c3f8d45769154e3bdb070274038b142&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.invitra.com%2Fen%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2018%2F06%2Fanatomy-of-the-internal-female-reproductive-system.png&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=9893ed14e5580ce653225ee1b934beed3ec0b4d33617233a37b9e88d0018efc8&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.illustrationx.com%2Fimages%2Fartist%2FJulietPercivalMedical%2F121999%2Fwatermark%2F1300%2Ffemale-reproductive-organs.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=4ac5fcb6dbf1d45d03da3f8cdc2868eab6de80d43358eae025be2dc5c8e39209&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fi2.wp.com%2Fintimateartscenter.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F04%2FFemale-Internal-Organs-Side-View-Color_-labels2.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=5540794830b08891d4090cfa16660504cfc6ad67009315a708442c75c3f65689&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fbrooksidepress.org%2Fanatomy%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2015%2F02%2FMD0584_img_1.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=bd0d36787cb478c2cbd4cc5650db31029b537e1c2848ac8faef552506a1211c4&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F39%2Fd9%2F5a%2F39d95a32a5c7f3bd16660ffa6d9042ce.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=499326e2a238b505d9bad990cc4758fdf52100e48b963a5c079c92a0b55eadc2&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fthumbs.dreamstime.com%2Fz%2Fvector-infographic-abdominal-pain-types-abdominal-pain-types-linear-infographic-young-person-red-spots-tummy-shows-161669718.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=5b13c9f3fc3a7af60c19c4984a8d56eb6e9a181b180acbe53fe5c9228841e1a7&ipo=images
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JUST A TOUCH x (Autistic author) SpongeBob rushes over, his face a mask of worry. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. But Plankton can't answer. His body is rigid, his eye unfocused. Squidward's tentacle retreats, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob's eyes are wide with concern. "Hello?" Plankton doesn't even blink, his eye remains unseeing, his body a statue to the chaos around him. Squidward, still holding the dish, watches with a mix of fear and confusion. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob's heart races as he sees his friend frozen. "Hey, Plankton," he says. "It's just a party." But the words fall on deaf ears—or rather, one deaf eye. Plankton's antennae remain still, his body rigid. The room's chaos has ceased to exist for him, lost in the vacuum of his seizure. Sponge Bob's voice, usually so boisterous, is now a gentle whisper. "Plankton?" he says, his hand hovering over his friend. Squidward, his eyes wide, stammers. "Is he...? Is he okay, or?" It's something that has to run its course, which of course neither Squidward nor Sponge Bob realize. Squidward's tentacle shakes Plankton gently, his voice filled with concern. "Plankton?" he repeats, his tone softer now. Plankton's antennae remain still, his body a statue in the bustling kitchen. The dish clatter fades to background noise, the laughter from the party a distant echo. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes, his eyes never leaving Plankton's unseeing gaze. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something new, something scary. He takes a deep breath, his thumbs tucked into his pockets as he tries to think. What do you do? What helps when someone you care about is stuck in this kind of loop or what ever this is... Squidward, usually so quick to snap and complain, is silent, his tentacles poised but not moving. He watches, his eyes flicking between the unmoving Plankton and SpongeBob. The room's cacophony fades away as the realization hits them—Plankton's in trouble. Sponge Bob's smile is gone, replaced with a furrowed brow and a quivering bottom lip. Squidward, still holding the now forgotten plate, feels a pang of guilt. He'd seen the stress in Plankton's antennae, heard the urgency in his voice, but had dismissed it. Now he's not sure what to do. Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy body tense with worry. He's seen Plankton upset before, but never like this. "I think we should set him down," he suggests, his voice barely a whisper. "On the floor.." They gently lower Plankton to the cool tiles, his body unyielding. Squidward sets the dish aside, his tentacles shaking slightly. "What do we do?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob's eyes never leave Plankton's face, his heart pounding in his chest. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something else entirely. Squidward, his tentacles still shaking, stammers. "What do we do?" The fear in his voice is palpable. They both know Plankton isn't okay. Sponge Bob takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Plankton's motionless form. "Get Karen. Now." Squidward nods, his tentacles moving in a blur as he rushes to find her. The party's music thumps in the background, a stark contrast to the silence of the kitchen where Plankton sits. Sponge Bob kneels beside him, his hand hovering over Plankton's shoulder, unsure of what to do next. His heart races as he watches his friend's chest rise and fall in the rhythm of a silent symphony only Plankton can hear. Karen looks up at the sound of Squidward running in. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice filled with alarm. Squidward's tentacles flap wildly. "It's Plankton! He's... he's just... not moving!" Karen's eyes widen, and she rushes into the restaurant, Squidward's words echoing in her mind. Plankton sits on the floor, his body unnaturally still, his antennae drooping. Her heart skips a beat as she sees his vacant gaze. She recognizes the signs—this is the second time she's seen an absence seizure take hold of him. She kneels beside Sponge Bob, whose expression is a mix of fear and confusion. "He's having a seizure," Karen whispers, her voice a calming breeze in the chaotic kitchen. Her hand, now gentle and firm, guides Plankton's head to the floor. "He'll wake up. We've got to keep him safe." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with concern. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something beyond his usual quirks. Plankton's tiny body is a stark contrast to the monstrous fear gripping his heart. The kitchen is a blur of movement around them, but Karen's calm presence brings a semblance of order. She takes over, her movements precise. "Don't touch him," she says, her voice a gentle command. "Just let it run its course." Squidward nods, his tentacles still, his eyes on Plankton. Sponge Bob's face is a mask of worry, his eyes never leaving his friend's unresponsive form. Mr. Krabs' beady eyes narrow, his voice a gruff whisper. "What's going on?" Karen's voice is calm, but her heart races. "It's okay," she says, her hand resting on Plankton's back. "It's just a part of his new... condition." Mr. Krabs' expression softens, his eyes flicking from Plankton to Karen. "Is he going to be okay?" "Yes," Karen says firmly, her hand still on Plankton's back. "It's just a seizure. They can happen with... his autism..." Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, but his expression quickly morphs into something more thoughtful. "I see," he says, his voice lowered. "I had no idea." "He got a brain injury, Mr. Krabs," Karen says. "Yesterday, in an accident.." Mr. Krabs nods, his gaze on Plankton's unmoving form. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice genuine. "What happened?" Karen swallows, her eyes welling with tears. "They said it's Acquired Autism. It's like his brain got... rewired." Her hand strokes Plankton's back soothingly. "He's the same, but different." Mr. Krabs nods slowly, his claws clenching. "Well, we'll make do," he says gruffly. "This is still the same Plankton who tried to steal the Krabby Patty formula, right?" Karen's eyes flash with a mix of anger and protectiveness. "Yes," she says firmly. "But now he needs our help. And our understanding. He hasn't mentioned it once since.." Her voice trails off as Plankton's eye flickers. Slowly, his antennae unfreeze, twitching slightly. The world starts to come back into focus, the colors and sounds gradually seeping back into his consciousness. Sponge Bob's hand is still hovering over him, his face a canvas of relief and uncertainty. "Plankton?" Sponge Bob whispers, his voice tentative. Plankton's eye blinks once, twice, and he looks around, his gaze landing on Squidward. Squidward's tentacles are still, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. Plankton slowly sits up, his antennae twitching as he takes in the scene. The dish is forgotten, the need for order lost in the fog of his seizure. "Welcome back," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix of relief and anxiety. Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he looks around, his gaze settling on the plate still in Squidward's tentacle. "It's okay," Karen says gently, her hand resting on his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch as his brain reboots, trying to process the scene before him. "Dishes," he murmurs, his voice still flat. Squidward watches him, his tentacle hovering over the sink. "Let me handle this," he says, his voice apologetic. "You... you just take it easy." Plankton nods, his antennae still. The chaos of the kitchen fades away as he focuses on his friend's kindness. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice a soft echo of its former self. "All of you.."
JUST A TOUCH ix (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae quiver with frustration. "It's about the order," he repeats, his voice strained. "Everything needs order." Squidward sighs, his tentacles flapping in exasperation. "Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but we need to get these dishes done, and we can't do that if you're going to micromanage every single one!" Plankton's antennae droop. "Needs thorough..." Squidward throws his tentacles up in the air. "I don't care about your 'thoroughness' right now!" he exclaims. "Just let me do my job!" Plankton's antennae flatten. "No!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the stainless steel walls. Squidward turns, his tentacles poised for a fight. "What is your problem?" he snaps. Plankton's eye darts around, his heart racing. He can't explain the sudden urgency, the need for order that's consuming him. The need to be perfectly cleansed without blemish. "It's just... it's just..." Plankton stammers, his antennae drooping. Squidward's eyes narrow, his tentacles still. "What's the matter with you?" he asks, his voice edged with irritation. Plankton swallows, his throat tight. "Needs good.." But before he can say more, his gaze locks onto a speck of dirt on a plate. The world around him fades away as he reaches for it, his movements slow and deliberate. Squidward watches him, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. "What is that?" he asks, his tone sharp. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing on the speck. "Dirt," he whispers, his voice laced with distress. "Has to be gone." His hand shakes as he reaches for the plate, his mind consumed by the need to remove the imperfection. Squidward snatches the plate, his tentacles firm. "It's just a tiny speck!" he says, his voice loud. Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body stiffening. "Can't have dirt," he murmurs. The room seems to close in, his heart hammering in his chest. The need for order, for everything to be just so, is a wave crushing down on him. Squidward's face swims in his vision, a blur of impatience. "Squidward," he says, his voice steadying. "It's dirty." Squidward's grip on the plate doesn't waver. "It's not dirty," he says, his tone firm. "It's a tiny speck." But to Plankton, that speck is a boulder, a symbol of the chaos he can't control. His antennas quiver as he stares at the offending spot, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The world narrows to just the dish, the speck, and the overwhelming need to erase it. Squidward reaches out a tentacle, to move him aside, reaching to touch Plankton's shoulder. But before he can make contact, Plankton flinches, his eye snapping up to meet Squidward's. "Don't," he says, his voice sharp. "No touch." "Then move so I can mix the dishes.." The words hit Plankton like a wave, sending him spiraling. He can't explain it, but the thought of Squidward's tentacle touching him sends a shiver down his spine. But the only alternative is to result in disordered dishes! Squidward's grip on the plate doesn't change, his tentacle poised to push Plankton aside. "Please," Plankton whispers, his voice trembling. "No..." SpongeBob watches from a distance, his smile fading. He's noticed the changes in Plankton, the way his movements have become so precise, his speech so formal. But he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Squidward's tentacle hovers, his gaze flicking from the plate to Plankton's face. "I'm in charge, not you!" He says shoving Plankton as he mixes the dishes. That's it. The room spins around Plankton, his vision blurring with the sudden assault. The clatter of plates, the smell of grease, the touch of Squidward's tentacle— it's too much. His body reacts before his brain can catch up, the partygoers' laughter a distant echo in Plankton's ringing ears. "Plankton?" Squidward asks, his voice a distant rumble as SpongeBob comes in. Plankton's vaguely aware of his surroundings, but it's all just white noise, his gaze going blank as the absence seizure starts up.
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JUST A TOUCH viii (Autistic author) After dinner, they retreat to the living room. Plankton's eye is glued to the puzzle book on the coffee table, his antennae twitching with unspoken longing. Karen picks it up, opening to a new page. "Would you like to work on this one together?" she asks, her voice gentle. He nods, his eye lighting up with the familiar challenge. Together, they tackle the puzzle, Karen's voice a gentle narration as Plankton's antennae move in time with her words. The patterns on the page hypnotize him, drawing him in. Plankton's antennae stop twitching, his focus solely on the words before him. And then the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. Karen's heart skips a beat, her hand tightening around the puzzle book. Plankton's head snaps up, his eye wide with alarm. "Who is it?" he asks, his voice sharp. Karen's eyes dart to the clock. "It's probably SpongeBob," she murmurs. Plankton's antennae perk up at the mention of his friend's name. "Party," he says, his voice hopeful. Karen nods, swiping at the tear that's managed to escape. "Yes, Plankton. SpongeBob's probably here to invite us to a party at the Krusty Krab. Do you think you're up for it?" she asks, her voice tentative. Plankton's antennae droop slightly. "Maybe," he says, his voice unsure. The thought of the bright lights and loud noises at the party sends a shiver of anxiety through his tiny body. But the prospect of seeing Sponge Bob is tempting. Karen sighs, understanding his hesitation. She walks to the door, her movements slow and deliberate. Sponge Bob's cheerful greeting floods the hallway. "Hey, Karen! Plankton! You guys coming to the party?" "Hey, Sponge Bob," she says, her smile forced. "What's the occasion?" Sponge Bob's face lights up like a Christmas tree, his spongy body bobbing with excitement. "Mr. Krabs is throwing a bash at the Krusty Krab!" he says, his hands gesturing wildly. "You guys are coming, right?" Plankton's antennae quiver at the mention of the party. The thought of the loud noises and the jostling crowd makes his stomach churn, but the prospect of seeing his friend shines like a beacon through the fog of his fear. Karen watches him, reading his emotions like a book. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle reminder. "We can go for a little bit." Plankton nods, his antennae still. "Okay," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Karen can see the internal struggle playing out across his features. "Just stay as long as you're comfortable," she adds. "I'll just stay, you go with him." Sponge Bob's eyes light up. "Great!" he says, bending down to hold his hand. He holds his finger as they go. Plankton's grip is tight, his antennae flat against his head. The noise of the Krusty Krab is a cacophony of sounds, each one stabbing at his heightened senses. But the warmth of Sponge Bob's hand, the familiarity of their friendship, anchors him. Mr. Krabs sees Plankton clinging to Sponge Bob's side. "What's going on, laddie?" he asks, his voice gruff but concerned at the sight of their hands. Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze darting to the floor. Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow. "Why did ye invite Plankton?" he asks with suspicion. Sponge Bob's smile doesn't waver. "Well, he's always welcome..." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow. "But he's our enemy.." Sponge Bob's smile doesn't waver. "He's my friend," he says firmly. "And I'm watching to make sure he won't steal any thing, boss.." Mr. Krabs' eyes soften, his suspicion giving way to reluctant acceptance. "Alright, but keep an eye on him," he says, his voice gruff. Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Plankton's antennae quiver, his heart racing at the sudden influx of stimulation. The colorful lights, the smells of frying food, the laughter of the patrons—it's all so much. But Sponge Bob's hand is warm, a lifeline in the chaos. They move through the crowd, Plankton's steps small and careful. His eye darts around, trying to take it all in without getting overwhelmed. Sponge Bob's voice cuts through the noise like a knife. "You okay, buddy?" he asks, his smile concerned. Plankton nods, his voice a strained whisper. "Good," Sponge Bob says, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. As they reach the party area, Plankton's antennae start to wave erratically. The lights are too bright, the sounds too loud. He clutches Sponge Bob's hand tighter. Plankton takes a deep breath, his chest expanding with the effort. It's like trying to swim through jello, his senses on high alert. Sponge Bob feels the change in his friend's grip, his own heart racing with concern. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks again, his voice barely audible over the din. Plankton nods, his eye focused on the floor. The pattern of the tiles is soothing, grounding him amidst the chaos. A flash of pink darts through the crowd, and Plankton's antennas twitch. "Patrick!" Sponge Bob says, letting go of Plankton's hand. Plankton looks around and sees Squidward doing the dishes, but in a disorganized manner that Plankton needs to correct. The sight of the scattered plates, the water spots on the glasses, sends a jolt of anxiety through him. His compulsion to straighten, to organize, to make it right, is almost unbearable. So he goes to Squidward by the sink to interfere. Squidward glances up, his tentacles frozen mid-wash. "What are you doing here?" he snaps. Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze fixated on the mess. "Help," he says, his voice tight. Squidward rolls his eyes, grabbing another plate to wash as he ignores Plankton. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye darting between the chaos and Squidward's dismissal. He's doing the dishes wrong and needs him to help! "Squidward, let Plankton assist," he says, his voice formal. Squidward sighs, shaking his head. "Look, I don't have time for this," he says, his tentacles moving rapidly. Plankton's body tenses, his need for meticulousness consuming him. As Plankton approaches Squidward, his movements are precise, almost mechanical. His antennae twitch in time with his racing thoughts, his need for order a silent scream in the noisy room. He holds out his hand, palm up. "Wash," he says, his voice firm. Squidward pauses, eyeing him warily. "What?" Plankton's gaze is unwavering, his voice steady. "Smudges. Wash dishes. Correct way." Squidward's grip on the plate slackens, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?" Plankton's antennae wave frantically. "Correct way," he repeats, his voice a desperate whisper. "No smudges. Wrong order." Squidward's tentacles still, his gaze sharpening. "What's gotten into you?" he asks, his voice filled with skepticism. Plankton's antennae twitch. "No smudges," he says again, his voice a mix of urgency and desperation. Squidward sets the plate down with a clatter. "What are you on about, Plankton?" But Plankton's focus is solely on the task at hand. He reaches for the dish soap, his movements precise. Squidward watches him, his expression a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice gruff. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye darting to Squidward. "Just helping," he says, his voice flat as he puts the now clean dish away. But he sees imperfections on some of the clean dishes, handing them over for Squidward to wash as he straightens up the other plates. Squidward's eyebrows furrow, his gaze flicking between Plankton and the dishes. "What are you doing?" he asks again. Plankton's grip on the towel tightens, his body vibrating with the need for perfection. "It's not right," he says, his voice strained. "Has to be right." "Those I've cleaned!" Squidward says as Plankton puts them in the sink for him to wash over again. "Squidward look. No..." But before Plankton can finish, Squidward snatches the plate from his tentacles. "Look, I don't have time for your... whatever this is," he says, his voice gruff. He takes it and haphazardly shoves it with smaller plates. Plankton can't take the misalignment! Plankton's antennae stand on end, his eye wide with horror. "No!" he says, his voice rising. "Wrong order!" His hands shake as he tries to grab the plate, his mind racing with the need to correct the mistake. Squidward pulls away, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. "Plankton, what's wrong with you?" he snaps. "Plankton's centrum semiovale has restricted inhibitory synaptic transmission!" Plankton's voice is a mix of panic and frustration, his antennae waving wildly. Squidward's eyes narrow, his grip on the plate tightening. "What are you talking about? I am not going to wash this again," he says, his tone firm. Squidward's words hit a nerve, triggering a cascade of emotions in Plankton. "It's not about Squidward!" he says, his voice sharp. "It's about the order! Cleanliness..." "PLANKTON I SAID NO!" Squidward yells, startling him as he turns back to the sink.
JUST A TOUCH vii (Autistic author) The room is thick with unspoken words as Sandy slowly approaches the bed, her movements calculated to avoid overstimulating Plankton. Her eyes are full of compassion, but also fear of the unknown. "Hi, Plankton," she says softly, extending her hand with a gentle wave. He flinches, his antennae quivering. "Remember me?" Plankton's brain processes her words, but his response is delayed. He nods, his movements mechanical. Sandy sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice carefully modulated to avoid causing him discomfort. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye darting to the side. He doesn't look at her directly, his gaze lingering on a spot on the wall. "Fine," he says, his voice devoid of inflection. Sandy nods, her eyes searching his for any sign of the friend she knew. "It's good to see you, Plankton." Her words hang in the air, their meaning lost in the labyrinth of his new reality. Karen watches them, her heart in her throat. She can see the effort Plankton is making to engage with Sandy, the way his antennae twitch with every word spoken. It's a dance, a delicate balance between his need for solace and his desire for connection. Sandy's hand hovers near his, her eyes questioning. "Can I?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. Plankton's gaze shifts to hers, his expression unreadable. Karen nods, giving her permission. "Gently," she says, a soft reminder. Sandy nods, her hand inching closer to his. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body stiffening as her fingertips brush against his. But the moment their skin makes contact, something snaps within him. He jolts upright, his antennae flailing as his eye widen in panic. "Too much," he cries out, his voice a mix of fear and anger. "Too much!" The room seems to shrink around him, the walls closing in with every beat of his racing heart. Sandy's eyes widen in shock, her hand retreating quickly. "Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "It's okay." But Plankton's not listening, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "No!" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "No touch!" Sandy's face falls, her eyes brimming with confusion and hurt. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's in the throes of a full-blown meltdown. His tiny fists clench. "No touch!" he repeats, his voice rising. Karen's heart breaks seeing the fear in Sandy's eyes, but she understands the importance of respecting Plankton's boundaries. "We're sorry, Plank..." But Plankton's anger interrupts her, his voice sharp and intense. "No! No sorry! Sandy touch no good!" His words are a jumble of pain and frustration, a stark contrast to the controlled monotone he'd used earlier. Sandy's eyes fill with tears, her hand retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I didn't know." Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "It's okay," she says to both of them, her voice steady. "We're just figuring this out." Plankton's chest heaves with breaths. "No touch," he mutters, his voice fading. Sandy nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her voice softer. "I'll..." But Plankton's outburst continues, his voice rising. "No touch!" The room vibrates with his distress, the air thick with his panic. Karen's heart races, her mind racing to find a way to soothe him. She knows he's overwhelmed, that his new hypersensitivity to touch has been violated. Sandy's eyes widen, her hands hovering awkwardly in the space between them. She can see the turmoil in his face, the anguish in his voice. "I didn't mean to..." she starts, but her words are swallowed by his distress. "Plankton, it's okay," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. But it's too late. The dam has broken, and his emotions flood the room like a storm. His tiny body trembles with rage, his antennae flailing in every direction. "No touch!" he screams again, the force of his voice surprising even Sandy. She jumps back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Karen's eyes are on Plankton, a silent apology in her gaze. "It's okay," she says to him, her voice soothing. "We'll make sure that doesn't happen again." Plankton's eye darts around the room, his breathing erratic. "No touch," he whispers, his voice broken. Sandy backs away, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I didn't know," she says, her voice thick. "I'm so sorry." The room echoes with Plankton's sobs, his body quaking in Karen's arms. Karen's heart aches for him, her eyes never leaving his face. "No touch," he whispers, his voice broken. Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "I know," she says, her voice gentle. "It's okay. We'll figure this out." Plankton's antennae stop flailing, his body still trembling as the storm of his emotions begin to subside. He looks up at Karen, his gaze searching for comfort. She wipes a tear from her face with her free hand. "It's okay," she repeats. "You're okay." Sandy's eyes are red, her shoulders slumped. "I didn't know," she says again, her voice shaking. "I just wanted to help." Karen nods, her own eyes wet with empathy. "I know," she says. "It's a lot to take in." The three of them sit in the quiet room, the only sound Plankton's muffled sobs. Sandy's eyes dart around, not knowing what to do with herself. Karen squeezes his hand gently, her gaze never leaving his. "We're here for you," she whispers. Slowly, Plankton's crying subsides, his body still shaking. Karen can feel the tension in him, like a coiled spring ready to snap again. Sandy's hand twitches, as if she wants to reach out, but she stops herself, remembering his outburst. "I'm sorry," she says again, her voice small. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's not your fault," she says to Sandy, her voice gentle. "We're all just trying to navigate this new... reality." Sandy sniffs, nodding. "I just want to be here for you guys," she says, her voice shaky. Plankton's sobs quiet, his body slumping in exhaustion. Karen nods, her eyes meeting Sandy's. "We know, and we appreciate it," she says, her voice tight. "But we have to be careful with his sensory needs." Sandy nods, her face a mask of sorrow. "I'll learn," she whispers. "What do you need from me, Plan..." But Plankton's already slipping away, his eyelid drooping as sleep beckons. Karen's grip on his hand doesn't loosen as she watches his breathing even out. The tension in the room slowly eases as his body relaxes, his sobs giving way to quiet snuffles. Sandy's eyes are on him, her heart heavy with guilt. "I'll go," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Karen nods, her gaze still on Plankton. "Thank you," she murmurs. "Call me if you need anything." Sandy nods, her eyes lingering on the two of them before she stands, her legs shaky. She crosses the room, the weight of her mistake dragging her down. As she reaches the door, she glances back one last time. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly in his sleep, and she can't help but feel a pang of sadness. Karen's eyes follow her, filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you," she whispers again as Sandy exits, closing the door behind her. The click echoes through the quiet space, a stark reminder of the distance that's grown between them all. Plankton's grip on her hand tightens slightly in his sleep, as if sensing the shift in the room's energy. Karen brings her other hand to cover his, sandwiching it between hers. Her eyes well with tears as she whispers, "It's okay, Plankton. You're okay." The room is bathed in silence once again, the only sound being Plankton's gentle snores. Karen's mind is racing, thinking of all the adjustments they'll need to make, the education she'll have to provide to those who know and love him. But for now, she focuses on the warmth of his hand in hers, his head buried in her shoulder. Her eyes drift to the clock, the hands moving in a slow, steady march forward. It's time for her to start dinner, to bring some semblance of normalcy back into their lives. Gently, she shifts Plankton to his side, making sure he's comfortable before rising from the bed. The kitchen is a minefield of potential triggers: the hum of the fridge, the clink of pans, the smell of cooking food. She moves carefully, her eyes scanning the room for anything that might overstimulate him. The recipe she's chosen is simple, something they both enjoy. She starts the prep, chopping vegetables with a precision that Plankton would appreciate, her movements methodical and calming. The aroma of cooking food fills the air, a comforting reminder of their shared life. Karen's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, planning how to help Plankton navigate this new world. She wipes her hands on a towel. As she hears Plankton's tentative steps on the stairs, she takes a deep breath. His descent is slow, each step measured with caution. When he enters the kitchen, his gaze darts around the room, his antennae twitching with each new sound. Karen's heart squeezes. She's used to his energy, his boundless enthusiasm. This cautious creature is still his shell-shocked self. "Hungry?" she asks, her voice as soft as the evening light. Plankton nods. The meal is a simple one, a familiar comfort in a world that's become so alien. Karen places the plate before him, the steaming food a visual symphony of their shared past. Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze fixating on the plate. "Food," he says, his voice still monotone. Karen nods, aching for the passionate foodie she knew. "Do you need anything else?" she asks, her voice soft. He shakes his head. The meal is eaten in silence, each bite a victory. Karen wants to say something, anything, but she knows he needs space, time to process the whirlwind of emotions.
SHELF IMPROVEMENT viii (Autistic author) The next day, Karen got up out of bed. Plankton's still asleep. She wondered how she's to wake him with his new sensory sensitivities. Gently, she opened the blinds, letting in the soft morning light. The room was peaceful, the silence only broken by the steady hum of his breathing. She took a moment to just watch his sleeping form, the covers rising and falling with each breath. Karen approached the bed, careful not to wake him. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as she reached out to stroke his forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, and she smiled sadly. "Good morning, Plankton," she whispered, keeping her voice soft. His eye fluttered open, and he blinked at her, his gaze slightly unfocused. "Karen," he mumbled, his voice groggy. "How are you feeling?" she asked, concern etched on her screen. Plankton blinked a few times, his antennae slowly raising. "Tired," he finally said, his voice raspy. "It's okay," Karen soothed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We'll take it easy today. I told Chip about your new neurodisability.." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he took in her words. "Chip knowing?" he murmured, his eye searching hers. "Yes, sweetie," Karen nodded. "We talked about how we need to be gentler with you now." Plankton's antennae stilled, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, his eye found hers. "Thank... you?" he whispered, the words a gentle caress. Karen felt a tear roll down her screen. "Of course," she said, smiling softly. "We're in this together." It's the first time since the accident that he used an actual pronoun. Plankton's antennae quivered as he absorbed her words. "Together," he echoed, his voice gaining strength. Karen wiped her screen, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm them as Chip came into their room. "Morning, Dad," Chip said, his voice tentative. He had spent the night thinking about his father's condition, his young mind racing with questions. Plankton's antennae twitched, and he offered a small smile. "Chip," he mumbled. Chip cautiously approached the bed, his eyes wide with concern. "You okay, Dad?" Plankton nodded, his antennae still. "Chip," he murmured. "Chip loves Plankton." Chip climbed up onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. "I love you too, Dad," he said, his voice trembling as he crawled closer to Plankton. Plankton's antennae flinched as Chip approached, his body tensing instinctively. Karen had explained about personal space the night before, but she wasn't sure if he'd remember. "Chip," she said softly, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Let's not get too close just yet, okay?" Chip nodded, his screen a picture of understanding. He sat at the edge of the bed, giving Plankton enough space. Karen could see the effort it took for him to control his instincts. Plankton's antennae twitched as he took in the new dynamics, his eye flicking between Karen and Chip. "Space," he murmured, his voice still weak. "I need... space." Karen nodded, swallowing hard. "Of course, Plankton. We'll make sure to give you your space." She reached for Chip's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Remember, buddy, let's not overwhelm Dad." Chip nodded, his eyes serious. He slowly slid off the bed, his movements careful. But as he stood up, his elbow accidentally brushed against Plankton's arm. The reaction was instant. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body jerking away from the touch. "No!" he yelped, his eye widening in discomfort. Karen lurched as she saw Plankton's expression. She had tried to prepare Chip, but it was clear that their new reality was going to be a learning experience for them all. Chip's screen filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered. Karen's seeing her son's upset face. "It's okay, Chip," she said quickly. "It's an accident. Let's give Dad some more space, okay?" But Plankton's expression had shifted. His antennae were vibrating rapidly, his eye flashing with anger. "Too much," he snapped, his voice harsher than Karen had ever heard it. "Chip, too much!" Chip's eyes watered, and he took a step back, his hand hovering. "I'm sorry, Dad," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae whipped around, his whole body vibrating with agitation. "Out!" he bellowed, the word exploding from his tiny body. "Chip, go out!" Chip's eyes grew large with shock. He had never heard his dad speak to him like that before. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to leave, his steps slow and heavy. Karen watched her son retreat. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaky. "It's okay, he didn't mean..." But Plankton's anger was palpable. "No!" he shouted, his eye flashing. "Chip, no more!" His voice was loud, a stark contrast to the gentle whispers of their previous interactions. Chip hovers by the door. "Dad, I di-" "OUT!" Plankton's shout reverberated through the room, cutting him off mid-sentence. His body was rigid with tension, his antennae quivering angrily. Karen felt a pang of fear and sadness seeing her husband like this. But Chip wants to reconcile with his father. Chip looked back, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Dad, ca--" "OUT!" Plankton's voice was a thunderclap in the stillness of the room. Chip flinched, his small body visibly trembling. "Dad," Chip tried again, his voice shaking. "Can't you li—" "OUT!" Plankton shouted, his antennae whipping around like tiny storm clouds. Karen saw the fear in Chip and knew she had to intervene. "Chip, go to your room," she said firmly, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Let's give Dad some time to calm down." Chip nodded. With one last longing glance at Plankton, he left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ii (By NeuroFabulous) "What causes this, Mom?" Chip asked, his voice quieter now, more contemplative. Karen sat beside Plankton, still stroking his arm. "Sometimes, sweetie, when people have brains that work differently, like Daddy does, they can get overwhelmed." She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "It's a type of 'neurodisability' he has." Chip's still confused. "But why didn't you tell me before?" his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's hand stilled on Plankton's arm as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Well, Chip, sometimes parents want to protect their kids from things they think might be too much for them to understand. But now that you're a little older, it's important you know about your dad's... condition." Chip looked at her with wide eyes, processing this new information. "Is it because of his inventions? Does he think too much?" Karen's gaze remained on Plankton, her thumb still making circles on his skin. "No, honey, it's not because of his inventions. It's just his disability. Some people's brains work differently, and that's okay." Chip's eyes darted back to his father, who was still as a statue. "But what does it feel like?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's hard to say, because everyone's experience is unique. For Daddy, it might be like being in a really quiet room where everything is far away and muffled." Chip nodded slowly, his gaze still on Plankton. "So, it's like he's not here, but he kind of is?" Karen nodded, her screen never leaving her son's. "In a way, yes. It's like his brain has gone until it's ready to come back and get unstuck." Chip's screen searched his mother's screen for any sign of fear or sadness, but she was calm, a rock in the storm of his confusion. "How long will he be like this?" Karen's gaze never left Plankton's still form. "It could be a few minutes or hours. We just have to wait it out." Chip nodded, his curiosity still burning. "Does he know we're here?" Karen offered a small, sad smile. "I think he can feel us, but he's not really with us right now." Chip nodded, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his camp t-shirt. "But how do we know when he's... not stuck anymore?" Karen looked up at him, her screen filled with a gentle wisdom. "You'll know, Chip. He'll blink, or twitch, or maybe even say something. It's like he's in a deep sleep, and we have to let him wake up on his own." Chip sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bed, his hands folded in his lap. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to share with his dad. "Does he remember stuff when he's like this?" he whispered. Karen's eyes remained on Plankton, her voice low and soothing. "It's complicated, Chip. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't. But it's like his brain is playing backup right now." Chip nodded, his thoughts racing. "But how do we help him?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. Karen turned to her son. "We just have to be patient, Chip. And keep the room calm." Chip nodded, his curiosity now muted by the gravity of the situation. He watched his mother closely, studying her calm demeanor, the way her hand continued to move in gentle strokes on Plankton's arm. He wanted to be like her and help. "What can I do to make him feel better?" he asked, his voice quieter than his racing thoughts. Karen's eyes flicked to his, a gentle smile playing on her screen. "You're already doing it, Chip. Just being here, keeping the room calm, is helping." But Chip's mind was still whirring with unanswered questions. "But what causes this?" he pressed. Karen sighed, her gaze still focused on Plankton. "It's a disorder, sweetie. It's a neurological condition that makes his brain process things a bit differently. Sometimes, when his senses get overwhelmed, his body does this to protect him." Chip's brows furrowed. "But why didn't he tell..." "Because," Karen interrupted, "it's hard for some people to explain things like this, even to those they love most. Your dad's been dealing with this and it's not always easy to talk about." Chip nodded, his curiosity still not fully satisfied. "How will he feel whenever he wakes up?" Karen took a deep breath. "It can vary, Chip. Sometimes he's groggy, like waking up from a deep sleep. Other times, he's just tired, but he'll be okay. He might need some space, some quiet, and maybe a little time alone." Chip nods. "Mom, ca--" Plankton's antenna twitches suddenly. Karen's puts her hand up to silence Chip. "Shh," she whispers. Slowly, Plankton's eye begins to focus, the vacant stare shifting as he blinks, his pupil slowly coming into focus, as if surfacing from a deep sleep. He looks up at Karen, not recalling her coming in here. "Wh...what's going on?" he stammers, his voice rough from disuse. Karen's hand tightens on his arm, her voice a whisper. "You had a shutdown, sweetie." He figured that. He remembers Chip bombarding him before going dizzy/lightheaded as Chip kept prodding him, his son's gaze unwavering. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his body still sluggish from the shutdown.
If you've never had any kind of se*ual contact with a person, you can decide not to go for cervical pap screening once you're invited. But you can still have a test if you want to.. Who's at risk of cervical cáncer If you have a cervix and have had any kind of se*ual contact, you could get cervical cáncer. This is because nearly all cervical cancers are caused by infection with high risk types of HPV.
RED or BROWN bloody discharge is common during menstruation. Colors might range from cherry red at the beginning of your period to rusty brown. Some people have irregular periods and spotting. Others experience spotting due to their birth control method or hormonal changes. A variety of WHITE shades of discharge, from eggshell to cream, can be common. White discharge can occur for many of the same reasons as Clear discharge. It’s simply natural lubrication. As it cleans itself, it produces a WHITE or CLEAR discharge. Hormonal changes during your menstrual cycle can affect said discharge. Mucus can turn YELLOW when it comes into contact with the air. Very light yellow discharge is more common than you might think. Sometimes the color is daffodil yellow. Other times it’s more of a GREEN chartreuse. If you know you’re probably in the clear (as in it’s a one-off occurrence), what you eat could affect the color. Some people report this color change occurring whenever they take new vitamins or try certain foods. PINK discharge, ranging from a very light blush to the deep pink of a sunset, is often just a sign of the beginning of your menstrual period. Some people may periodically experience light bleeding after penetration.
𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 23 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Karen rushes over, her screen etched with concern. "Plankton, sweetie..." Chip's screen fills with alarm, his eyes darting to his father's contorted form. He's never seen him like this. The sensory assault has taken its toll, and Plankton is paying the price. Hanna's screen is a mask of shock, her hand hovering over Plankton's shoulder, unsure what to do. "Neptune," she says, her voice a whisper of concern. The room's energy shifts, Plankton's his body shivering with the remnants of his meltdown. Karen turns to Hanna. "I'm sorry," Karen says, her voice tight with the effort of keeping her own anxiety in check. "He's just not used to—" But Hanna's face is a mask of concern, her hand moving to Plankton's own, unaware of his autistic sensitivities, unaware of being the cause of his distress. Plankton's antennae droop, his body hunched. The room is spinning, his stomach churning. "Karen," he whispers, his voice hoarse with the effort of speaking. "I need to go. Now!" But Hanna insists on helping out. "Oh no, are you okay?" she asks, her hand moving to his back. The contact sends a fresh wave of nausea through him. "Hanna, no," Karen says firmly, stepping in. "Give him some space." But Hanna doesn't understand the boundaries. "But he's sick!" she protests, reaching out to touch him again. Plankton flinches away, his stomach lurching. "Hanna," Karen says again, her voice stern. "Please, respect his space." Hanna's hand drops, her face a portrait of confusion. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. But it's too late. The janitor starts to clean up as the school nurse, Vickie, follows. Nurse Vickie gasps. "Let's all go to my office!" She says, grabbing Plankton's hand as Hanna follows with Karen and Chip. The hallways are a blur of faces and colors, each step a battle for Plankton. His legs wobble, his body desperate to flee. The touch of Hanna's hand was too much, the sensory assault too great. Now, in the fear of the nurse's office, the world spins around him, his stomach a maelstrom of discomfort. Nurse Vickie's office is big enough for all of them, yet as the door closes behind them, Plankton feels claustrophobic and trapped. He's aware of every sound, every smell, every sensation that invades his space. Karen knows that this isn't what he needs. "Nurse Vickie..." Vickie is already fussing over him, her hands moving too fast, her voice too loud. "Don't worry, I've seen this before," she says, completely oblivious to Plankton's autism. Her touch is gentle but overwhelming, each pat on his back a hammer to his sensory overload. "You just sit here," she says, guiding him to a chair. But Plankton can't sit, can't stay still. He's like a caged animal, desperate for his quiet space, for the comfort of his sensory box. Tears stream down his face, with pain and fear. He tries to stand. "You need to sit down," Vickie insists. She doesn't see the panic in his eye. She's just trying to help, to do her job. But she doesn't know, doesn't understand his needs. "Nurse," Karen says, her voice firm. "Plankton has aut-" But Vickie cuts her off, her movements quick and efficient. "I know what to do," she says, her voice too loud. Plankton's antennas flinch. "Let me handle it." He needs his space, his stims, his quiet. But Vickie doesn't understand. "Let me do my job." Her hands are firm, her touch not the gentle one he craves. "Please," Karen says, her voice sharp. "He needs space." Vickie's eyes narrow. "Space won't help him," she says, her tone dismissive. "He's just anxious. It's my job to calm him down." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body stiffening. This isn't calming, this isn't right. But her touch remains firm, her movements unchanged. "I'm a professional, ok..." Plankton starts to rock back and forth, his body's instinctual response, but Vickie's eyes widen. "That's not normal," she says. "You need to sit," she insists, holding him back towards the chair. Karen's face is a thundercloud, but she keeps her voice steady. "No, Nurse Vickie, that's his way of calming down. He's..." "But that's not what we do here," Vickie interrupts. Plankton's stimming intensifies, his body a whirlwind of motion. Each rock against the chair a silent scream for understanding, for the peace his stims usually bring. But Vickie doesn't see that. She sees a man behaving oddly, a patient out of control. Her voice pierces the air, "You need to sit still! This is for your own good," she says, her tone devoid of understanding. "You need to sit down! You need to trust me." But Plankton's body doesn't obey, his stims a tornado spinning out of control. He feels like a caged bird, fluttering wings against invisible bars. The chair is a trap, a prison of plastic and metal, and Vickie's hands are chains holding him in place. "I know what's best for him," Vickie says, her grip on Plankton's shoulders tightening. Karen's voice is a lifeline in the storm. "Nurse, please, his stims are his way of coping," she explains. But Vickie is unmoved. "He's just being difficult," she says, her grip unyielding. Plankton's eye widens. The room is a tornado of sensory input, Vickie's hands like sandpaper on his skin. He tries to pull away, but she holds firm. "You have to sit still!" she yells, startling him into stillness. His antennae droop, defeated. His eye blinks back tears, his body a tightly coiled spring. "You need to learn discipline..." "Ma'am," Karen says, her tone tight as a bowstring. "You're not helping. He's born with a neurodisability." But Vickie's expression is closed, a wall of ignorance. "This isn't a special treatment center," she says, her voice sharp. "This is a school, and we don't tolerate this kind of behavior. You're just enabling him," she says, her voice a sneer. "He'll never learn to function in the real world if you let him get away with this." Karen's fists clench, her teeth grind. "Function," she repeats, as she helps up Plankton. "Is that all he's good for? Functioning? This is my husband you're talking about." They decide to leave.
COMMON ACCOMMODATIONS FOR KIDS WITH AUTISM ELIGIBILITY: OMeS. SPEECHIEPO Sensory/movement breaks Advanced notice of changes in routine Visual Schedules Allow for wait time Provide written instructions Chunking of work Clear, concise directions Access to calming area Give choices when possible Directly teach self advocacy skills
abled people: can you do the thing?? disabled people: … technically yes BUT it would hurt l/ruin my day/trigger a flare/exhaust me/be a fall risk/make me more sick AND THEN I would have to spend a day in bed/increase my dosage/cancel all my other plans/spend a week recovering afterwards abled people: … but you CAN do it
"disabilities aren't aesthetic" Yes, but you don't need to say this under the posts of disabled people showing off cute mobility aids, decorated med organisers, a cute bed set up, the art piece that represents their disabilities, etc. Whether theyre your fellow disabled folk or especially so if you're able-bodied/neurotypical, allow disabled people freedom of expression and the little joys they can. People cope with their disabilites in diverse ways, and sometimes that means you will see a disabled person romanticizing their life, or making their aids aesthetic. Someone existing and expressing themselves, making their lives more comfortable and enjoyable, should not be seen as ”glorifying” anything. I’m not telling anyone to go make themselves disabled, nobody should take their health for granted.
Tumblr @theconcealedweapon Do you have a disabled neighbor who receives benefits because they can't work but you see them playing a sport with their child, doing yardwork, or doing other physical activity? That doesn't mean they're faking their disability. If someone can do physical exercise for an hour on a good day, that doesn't mean they can do it on command for eight hours straight then do it again the next day and the next and the next and the next. Disabled people should not have to perform their disability to your standards.
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.
Types Deltacism (from the Greek letter Δ) is a difficulty in producing /d/ sound. Etacism is a difficulty in producing e sound Gamacism is a difficulty in producing /ɡ/ sound Hitism is a difficulty in producing /h/ sound. Iotacism is a difficulty in producing /j/ sound. Kapacism is a difficulty in producing /k/ sound. Lambdacism (from the Greek letter λ) is the difficulty in pronouncing lateral consonants. Rhotacism is a difficulty producing rhotic consonants sounds in the respective language's standard pronunciation. In Czech there is a specific type of rhotacism called rotacismus bohemicus which is an inability to pronounce the specific sound ⟨ř⟩ /r̝/. Sigmatism is a difficulty of producing /s/, /z/ and similar sounds. Tetacism is a difficulty of producing /t/ sound. Tetism is replacement of /s/, /k/ and similar sounds with /t/ and of /z/ and similar sounds with /d/.
https://molecularautism.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13229-024-00586-5
Can Brain Damage Cause Autism? Research exploring the potential link between autism and brain damage has yielded mixed results. While some studies suggest a possible association between the two, others indicate that brain damage alone is not a direct cause of autism. Ruben Kesherim November 1, 2023 Understanding Autism and Brain Damage To fully comprehend the potential link between autism and brain damage, it is essential to understand the individual components involved. This section will provide an overview of autism, brain damage, and explore the connection between the two. What is Autism? Autism, also known as Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), is a complex neurodevelopmental condition that affects social interaction, communication, and behavior. People with autism may exhibit a wide range of symptoms, including difficulties in social interactions, repetitive behaviors, and sensory sensitivities. Autism is believed to have a strong genetic component, although the exact cause remains largely unknown. What is Brain Damage? Brain damage refers to any injury or harm to the brain that disrupts its normal functioning. It can occur as a result of various factors, including accidents, infections, strokes, tumors, and traumatic brain injuries (TBI). Brain damage can lead to a wide range of cognitive, physical, and behavioral impairments, depending on the location and severity of the injury. The Link Between Autism and Brain Damage Research exploring the potential link between autism and brain damage has yielded mixed results. While some studies suggest a possible association between the two, others indicate that brain damage alone is not a direct cause of autism. It is important to note that autism is a complex condition with multiple contributing factors, and brain damage might be just one of them. Case studies and findings have provided insights into individuals who experienced brain damage and subsequently displayed autistic-like symptoms. However, such cases are relatively rare, and the exact mechanisms underlying the development of autism after brain damage remain unclear. Understanding the relationship between autism and brain damage requires further research and exploration. It is essential to consult healthcare professionals and specialists to obtain accurate and personalized information regarding specific cases. Can Brain Damage Cause Autism? The relationship between brain damage and autism has been a topic of interest and research. While autism is a developmental disorder characterized by challenges in social communication and interaction, brain damage refers to any injury or trauma to the brain. In this section, we will explore the research and findings that shed light on the potential link between brain damage and autism. Exploring the Research Research examining the connection between brain damage and autism has provided valuable insights into the complex nature of the disorder. While it is clear that not all individuals with brain damage develop autism, some studies suggest that there may be a correlation between the two. One line of research suggests that neurological damage can lead to the development of autistic symptoms in some individuals. This damage can occur before, during, or after birth, and it can be caused by various factors such as genetic mutations, infections, or trauma. Case Studies and Findings Case studies have played a crucial role in understanding the relationship between brain damage and autism. These studies provide detailed accounts of individuals who have experienced brain damage and subsequently developed autistic symptoms. While case studies offer valuable insights, they are limited in generalizability and cannot determine causation. Additionally, research has identified specific brain regions that may be implicated in the development of autism after brain damage. For example, damage to the prefrontal cortex or the amygdala has been associated with the emergence of autistic traits. However, it is important to note that brain damage alone does not always result in autism, and the relationship between the two is complex and multifaceted. While the research provides some insights into the potential link between brain damage and autism, it is crucial to acknowledge that not all individuals with brain damage develop autism, and not all individuals with autism have experienced brain damage. The relationship between the two is influenced by various factors such as the timing, severity, and location of the brain damage, as well as individual differences and genetic factors. As the understanding of autism and brain damage continues to evolve, further research is needed to unravel the intricacies of this complex relationship. It is important to consult with healthcare professionals who specialize in autism and brain injury to receive accurate assessments, diagnoses, and appropriate interventions for individuals affected by these conditions. Factors Influencing Autism after Brain Damage While the relationship between autism and brain damage is complex, several factors can influence the development of autism following brain damage. Understanding these factors can provide valuable insights into the connection between the two. Timing and Severity of Brain Damage The timing and severity of brain damage play a crucial role in whether autism may develop as a result. Research suggests that brain damage occurring early in development, particularly during the prenatal period or early infancy, may have a higher likelihood of leading to autism. The developing brain is highly vulnerable during these critical periods, and any disruptions or abnormalities can impact neurodevelopment and contribute to the development of autism. Furthermore, the severity of the brain damage can influence the likelihood of autism. More severe brain injuries, such as those caused by traumatic brain injury or certain genetic conditions, may increase the risk of developing autistic traits or behaviors. However, it is important to note that not all individuals with brain damage will develop autism, and the relationship between brain damage and autism is not fully understood. Location of Brain Damage The specific location of brain damage can also influence the development of autism. Different areas of the brain are responsible for various functions, and damage to certain regions may result in specific challenges or symptoms associated with autism. For example, damage to the frontal lobe or areas involved in social communication may increase the likelihood of social and communication difficulties characteristic of autism. Each case of brain damage is unique, and the location and extent of the damage can vary. Therefore, it is essential to consider the individual circumstances and consult with medical professionals to assess the potential impact on autism development. Individual differences and genetic factors can significantly impact the manifestation of autism following brain damage. Each person's genetic makeup and predisposition to autism can influence how they respond to brain damage and whether they develop autistic traits. It is important to recognize that brain damage alone does not cause autism in every case, and genetic factors can interact with brain damage to influence the outcome. Research suggests that individuals with certain underlying genetic vulnerabilities, such as specific gene mutations or genetic syndromes, may be more likely to develop autism after brain damage. Genetic testing and evaluation can provide valuable insights into these individual differences and help guide intervention strategies and support. Understanding the factors that influence autism after brain damage is a complex and ongoing area of research. It is important to consult with healthcare professionals who specialize in neurological conditions and developmental disorders to gain a comprehensive understanding of the unique circumstances and potential implications. Differentiating Autism from Other Conditions When exploring the relationship between brain damage and autism, it's important to understand how autism spectrum disorder (ASD) differs from acquired autism. While both conditions may share certain characteristics, there are distinct factors that set them apart. Autism Spectrum Disorder vs. Acquired Autism Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a neurodevelopmental condition that typically emerges early in childhood. It is characterized by persistent challenges in social interaction, communication, and restricted or repetitive behaviors. ASD is considered a lifelong condition that affects individuals across various domains of functioning. Acquired autism, on the other hand, refers to the development of autistic symptoms following brain damage, often resulting from injury or disease. This form of autism is not present from birth but emerges after a specific incident or medical condition.
POSTED 13 YEARS AGO I was on the verge of committing suicide when a guy came to the roof to have lunch. He saw me climbing over the railing and asked me to share his lunch with him. After receiving my puzzled look, he explained, “Everyone should die happy. Or at least with a full stomach.” We celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary last month. POSTED 13 YEARS AGO
Similarities and differences while asd and acquired autism may exhibit overlapping symptoms, there are notable differences between the two: aspect autism spectrum disorder (asd) acquired autism (after birth) cause no identifiable cause, likely a combination of genetic and environmental factors results from brain damage due to injury, illness, or medical condition onset typically apparent in early childhood evident after brain damage occurs developmental delays often accompanied by developmental delays in language, motor skills, and cognitive abilities developmental delays may or may not be present, depending on the individual severity ranges from mild to severe, with varying levels of support needed severity can vary based on the extent and location of brain damage treatment treatment focuses on providing support, therapies, and interventions tailored to individual needs treatment involves addressing the underlying brain damage and may include therapies to manage symptoms Soit is crucial to note that acquired autism resulting from brain damage is relatively rare compared to asd, which is believed to have a more complex etiology involving a combination of genetic and environmental factors. The presence of brain damage alone does not necessarily lead to the development of autism symptoms. If you suspect that brain damage may have contributed to the development of autism symptoms, it is essential to consult with medical professionals and specialists who can provide a comprehensive evaluation. They can help differentiate between asd and acquired autism, ensuring appropriate interventions and support are provided. Understanding the distinctions between these conditions is crucial for accurate diagnosis, effective treatment, and support for individuals with autism. By recognizing the unique characteristics of both asd and acquired autism, professionals and caregivers can provide appropriate interventions and care tailored to the specific needs of each individual.
COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2 (Neurodivergent author) By evening, Karen has set up a makeshift kitchen area in the living room, with all the ingredients for spaghetti arranged neatly on the coffee table. Plankton sits cross-legged on the floor, his eye never leaving the recipe book. He reads each step aloud, his voice growing stronger with confidence. Karen chops vegetables nearby, noticing the subtle changes in his movements, the way he tilts his head when he's concentrating. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil fills the room. Plankton stirs the pot, his face scrunching up slightly at the aroma, a sign his sensory sensitivity has heightened. She sees him rub his hands together, a self-stimulatory behavior, but she knows it's his way of grounding himself amidst the chaos. They move around the makeshift kitchen, a silent dance of understanding and support. Karen boils the water for the spaghetti while Plankton continues to sauté the veggies. Each action is deliberate, each step measured as they navigate their new reality. The water reaches a rolling boil, and Plankton carefully drops in the spaghetti strands, his gaze transfixed by the swirling water. Karen watches his concentration and sees the childlike wonder in his eye. "How long?" he asks. "Five minutes," Karen says, her voice calm. She's read that clear and concise instructions can be helpful. After five minutes, Plankton quickly drains the spaghetti, his movements precise and methodical. He pours the sauce over the noodles and mixes them gently, his focus intense. Karen watches him, a mix of admiration and concern. "It's done," he announces, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. She brings over two plates, setting them on the coffee table. They sit across from each other, the steaming spaghetti a bridge between them. Plankton's hand hovers over his plate, unsure of how to proceed with the new sensory experience. "Let's eat," Karen says with a smile, picking up her fork and twirling the noodles expertly. The sound of her silverware against the plate makes him flinch, but he mimics her movements. They eat in silence, the clinking of forks and spoons the only sounds in the room. Plankton chews slowly, savoring each bite, his face a canvas of emotions. Karen watches him, her own fork poised in midair. As they finish dinner, Plankton sets his plate aside and looks at her, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Karen," he says, his voice clear. "For being here Karen." Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them back. "Always, Plankton. I'll always be here. Now it's getting late; let's go to bed.." In bed, she reads to him, his favorite childhood story, the words acting as a lullaby. Plankton's hand rests on her arm, his thumb rubbing circles in a self-soothing gesture. His breathing steadies, matching the rhythm of her voice. The book's final page is turned, and she switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence is filled with the comforting hum of the fan above. Karen lies beside Plankton, his body rigid with tension. Her arm wraps around him, pulling him closer, and she feels his muscles slowly relax. "Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn't respond, lost in his thoughts. But she knows he heard her. Karen notices the tension in his body and gently runs her fingers through his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep, his body curled into hers like a child seeking shelter. The next morning, the sun streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed. Karen, already awake, watches him, her hand still entwined with his. He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the lines of worry from the day before smoothed out by the embrace of slumber. Carefully, she slides out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. She sees him stir in his sleep, his antennae twitching slightly, but he remains unaware of her departure. In the kitchen, Karen starts the coffee, the scent filling the room with a comforting aroma. She opens the fridge, finding the ingredients for the morning routine. Plankton's usual breakfast is a simple one: toast with jam and a banana. The toaster pops, and she spreads the jam with a gentle smoothness that Plankton likes. The banana peels easily, revealing the perfect yellow fruit inside. Her mind races with thoughts of how she'll need to learn his new sensitivities, his likes and dislikes, his triggers. But for now, she focuses on the task at hand, placing the slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is just right, she carries the breakfast tray to the bedroom, her steps soft against the cold floor. Plankton's still asleep, his snores punctuating the quiet morning. Karen sets the tray on the bedside table. She watches him, unsure how to wake him without causing distress. She's read about sensory sensitivity and knows that sudden noise can be jarring for someone with Autism. She gently strokes his antennae, her touch featherlight, and whispers his name, "Plankton, wake up." He stirs, his antennae twitching, but his eye remains closed. Karen tries again, a little louder this time, "Wake up, sweetie. Breakfast is ready." Plankton's hand shoots up to cover his eye, a reflexive reaction to the light. His body tenses, then relaxes as his mind adjusts to the new day. He sits up slowly. "Thank you, Karen," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. He takes in the breakfast spread before him, his antennae twitching with anticipation. He picks up the toast, feeling the warmth in his hands, the stickiness of the jam a familiar comfort. Karen watches him closely, noticing the way his eye widens slightly at the first bite, the way his tongue flicks out to taste the banana. It's as if every sensation is amplified, a symphony of flavors and textures that she can't begin to understand. She sips her coffee, silent, giving him space. As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again, his body rocking slightly. It's a low, comforting sound that fills the room. Karen feels the tension in her shoulders ease. This is their new normal, a dance of care and understanding.
: ຼຸ⃝⡳ 🏐 ᪶⃑
To sleep with a full stomach, it's best to wait at least ½-3 hours after eating before lying down to allow your food to digest, and if you must sleep soon after eating, try to eat a light meal, stay upright for a while, and sleep on your left side to minimize discomfort and potential acid reflux. Key points to remember: Avoid heavy meals before bed: Fatty or large meals can cause bloating and discomfort, disrupting your sleep. Choose light options: If you need to eat close to bedtime, opt for easily digestible foods like plain yogurt or a small snack with low fat content. Sleep position matters: Sleeping on your left side is generally considered best for digestion as it helps prevent stomach acid from traveling back up the esophagus. Elevate your head: Using pillows to slightly elevate your upper body can also help reduce acid reflux. For those who sleep on their front, placing a firm pillow under the hips can raise the bottom of the spine, making sleep more comfortable. — Best Sleeping Positions for a Bloated Stomach · Side Sleeping · Left Side Sleeping · Side Sleeping with a Pillow Between the Legs · Back Sleeping.
𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓼 ඞ
https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fstylenrich.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F11%2Fhand-reflexology-stylenrich.jpg&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=dd4d226d3d7e2dc3a20c693007821637b3c129cc8d57088ab4657c62058872f7&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.shopify.com%2Fs%2Ffiles%2F1%2F1896%2F7971%2Farticles%2Fhand-reflexology_1000x.jpg%3Fv%3D1587598415&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=88456e1361df325ed8a929d07040e43dd28ccd19f811d26298b91af6e1aace98&ipo=images https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.healthkart.com%2Fconnect%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2020%2F09%2Faccupressure%2520(7)-768x1412.png&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=3d7625cacecaa58da5be2edf4c2b48cd577ac505377c3743dee91320db558781&ipo=images
You don't just practice away a neurological disorder 👀
Illustrations to a discussion about female castration (in a cat newsgroup) .---. .---. / .-. `. .' .-. \ /-( `. `._______.' .' )-\ ( ) \ / ( ) `-' \ / `-' \ / \ / VK |`-^-'| | | .---. .---. / .-./ \.-. \ /-( /`._______.'\ )-\ ( ) \ / ( ) `-' \ / `-' \ / \ / VK |`-^-'| | | /`._______.'\ \ / \ / \ / \ / VK |`-^-'| | | .-----. |`-^-'| VK | |
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago myymyy Rollercoaster "Mooooom, I don't like it. I want to get off!" I was a bit surprised. He had always been so brave. I was way more afraid than him when we got on. I never liked to be so high up from the ground. "This will be so much fun!", he had said when we were parking the car. I had kinda hoped he would be strong for both of us. "Oh honey, I'm sorry but we can't get off now, the ride has already started. But remember the small rollercoaster, in the park we went to when you were little? With the funny clown? This is just like that, only bigger. And remember how AWESOME it was?" My son looked at me with watery eyes. He had been so excited about this. I tried to swallow my own nervousness and keep talking to calm him down. My voice was shaking a bit, but I managed to put on a smile. "It's okay, it's okay. You might feel a bit funny in your stomach. It's because of the speed and the changes in the force that pushes you. It's normal! Listen, do you hear? Other people are scared too." He looked at me with his kind, blue eyes and nodded. Just barely. I wanted to hug him, but my back was pressing to the seat so heavily I couldn't move enough. So was his. My eyes caught a glimpse of the sun over my sons head. The sky was so bright. I tried to ignore the metallic clanging sound and people screaming somewhere that seemed to be so far away. Oh, how I missed the ground. Then I felt a big drop on my stomach. We were going faster and faster. My son started sobbing and I tightened my grib on his hand. I thought that he would become such a handsome man someday. He would end up having a good life, and marry a nice girl - or a guy, who knows? I didn't care as long as he was happy. That's all I wanted. For him to be happy and not scared. "Hey, you know what? Close your eyes. This will be over soon. I'm here. I'm not letting go." Someone behind us started to scream. I felt my blood run cold. I tried to keep my focus on the one thing that mattered: my sons hand and my calm voice that kept telling him that it was all going to be okay. Oh, he would become such a handsome man someday. But at this moment he was just a 6 year old boy on his first flight, going to surprise his grandparents all the way across the country. And the last thing I saw before I closed my own eyes, was the second engine on fire...
24 April 2027 If a woman's baby dies before labour starts, she will usually be offered medicine to help induce labour. If your baby has died, you may be able to wait for labour to start naturally or your labour may be induced. If your health is at risk, the baby may need to be delivered as soon as possible. Some parents want to have the induction as soon as possible. Others prefer to wait for a day or two so that they have time to take in what has happened and to see if labour starts by itself. Waiting for natural labour increases the chance of the baby deteriorating in the womb. This can affect how the baby looks when she or he is born and can make it more difficult to find out what caused the death. Finding out your baby has died is devastating. You should be offered support and have your options explained to you. If you're alone in hospital, ask the staff to contact someone close to you to come in and be with you. Before the birth, a person with skills and experience with parents who have lost a baby should be available to talk with you about whether you would like to see a photograph of your baby, have a memento such as a lock of hair, or see or hold your baby. A baby may have died during late pregnancy (called intrauterine death). Or, a baby may have died during labour or birth (called intrapartum death). What happens after a baby is stillborn? Your midwife or doctor should ask you if you would like to see, touch or hold your baby. This is a highly individual decision. Many parents decide to see and hold their baby, and most find it of help and comfort to do so, but, equally, some may not. It's up to you to decide what to do, and you should be given time and space to make up your mind. Your instincts may be to see and cuddle your baby, but worries about what he or she may look like could hold you back. To help you to decide what is right for you, your midwife or doctor can describe your baby to you. Maybe one partner could look first, or you and your partner could look at a photograph of your baby. Some people know instinctively that they don't want to see their baby, while others choose to or not to for religious or cultural reasons. After a stillbirth, many parents want to see and hold their baby. It's entirely up to you whether you wish to do so. You'll be given some quiet time with your baby if this is what you want. The important thing is to take time over your decision, and be sure about how and when you want to say goodbye to your baby. Whatever you decide about the post mortem, your views and wishes should be respected. If you go ahead, your doctor should tell you when the results are likely to be available. Some of the possible causes of stillbirth include the following. Congenital abnormalities — such as a genetic condition or heart condition. A medical condition in the mother — such as diabetes, high blood pressure in pregnancy or pre-eclampsia. Problems that can cause bleeding during pregnancy— such as placental abruption or placenta praevia. Complications during birth. Certain infections. Problems with the umbilical cord or placenta. Major injury or trauma to the mother's abdomen (the tummy area). Grieving the loss of a baby is a very traumatic experience. It's normal to feel a range of emotions, including shock, disbelief, deep sadness, anger and emptiness. There’s no right or wrong way to feel and it's okay for you to take as much time as you need. The care and support you receive during this time should consider your beliefs and practices. Your preferences and values should be respected. https://www.pregnancybirthbaby.org.au/what-is-a-stillbirth
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii (Autistic author) Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his grip on Plankton's wrists loosening. "What accident?" he asks, his voice filled with dread. Plankton's smile is gone, replaced by a look of sadness. "Head," he says, his voice a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He touches his forehead gently, his antennas drooping. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with realization, his grip on Plankton's wrists loosening entirely. "You got hurt?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "What happened?" Plankton nods, his antennas still drooping. Sponge Bob's confusion grows, his anger replaced with worry. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice softening. "What happened to your head?" Plankton's antennas twitch, his smile a distant memory. "Fall," he says, his voice a monotone. Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat. "You fell?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "When? How?" Plankton nods, his eye flickering with something akin to pain. "Recently," he says, his voice flat. "Head bad." Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock, his mind racing with questions. "You fell and hurt your head?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me?" Plankton's gaze drops to his book, his hands fluttering over the pages. "No tell," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "Shame." Sponge Bob's eyes fill with understanding, his anger evaporating like mist in the sun. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice soft. "You didn't have to keep this to yourself." Plankton's smile is a pale imitation of his usual self, his antennas still. "No good," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with worry as he tries to comprehend his friend's cryptic words. "You're not bad, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "You've just had an accident." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the book, his hands flapping over the pages. "No," he says, his voice a sad echo. "Head bad. Plankton bad." His body slumps, his usual vibrant energy dimmed by his distress. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with sadness as he tries to comfort his friend. "You're not bad, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You're just hurt right?" Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt," he echoes, his voice a monotone. "Inside head." He taps his forehead, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for understanding. "Grey matter. Neural pathways." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his confusion growing. "What do you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "What's going on with your brain?" Plankton's hand continues to tap his forehead, his voice detached. "Neurochemicals," he says, his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic connections. Autism." His smile is a mere memory, his eye glazed over with a faraway look. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his chest, his mind racing. "You're talking about your brain," he says, his voice tentative. "What's wrong with it?" Plankton's hand stops tapping, his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob. "Wiring," he says, his voice a monotone explanation. "Neuro- typical patterns disrupted affect the parts of brain when result in autism." His words are precise, his tone devoid of emotion. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with comprehension, his spongy heart sinking. "You're saying you have autism now?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton nods, his eye still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical divergence," he confirms, his voice still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic variance, myelination discrepancies." He speaks in a monotone, his words sounding rehearsed and mechanical. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart breaking for his friend. "What does that mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice shaking. "Does that mean you're not okay?" Plankton's gaze remains on the book, his hand tracing the spine. "Neuro-typical divergence," he repeats, his voice a flat recitation of medical terms. "Synaptic connections altered. Atypical neural patterns. Autism." He speaks as if recounting a scientific paper, his tone lacking any personal connection. "When hit head, damaged the myelination," he says, his hand continuing its mechanical movement against the book. "Myelination is the insulation around the axons that speeds up the nerve impulses made in a part of brain we call the cerebral cortex. My cerebral cortex now restricts, slows down impulses." Sponge Bob listens, his mind racing to keep up with Plankton's sudden shift in vocabulary. "But what does that mean?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "How'd the damage give you autism?" Plankton's hand stops its movement along the book. "Neurodivergence," he says, his voice a clinical recount. "My brain now operates outside typical parameters. Synaptic pruning, myelination patterns altered. Atypical neural networks formed." He speaks as if discussing a complex scientific experiment, his words a jumble of medical terminology that Sponge Bob barely understands. "Does that mean you're not okay?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with fear. Plankton's hand stills on the book, his gaze unfocused. "Functional diversity," he says, his voice a hollow echo of the medical lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence can lead to unique cognitive strengths, but also challenges." He taps the book, his antennas waving slightly. "My brain's wiring changed," he says, his voice a monotone. "Synaptic clefts widened, neurotransmitters less efficient. Restricted blood flow to temporal lobes." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of confusion and fear. "Does that mean you can't be... fixed?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennas twitch, his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix," he echoes, his voice a sad recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes. Rewire, adapt. But cerebral cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent." Sponge Bob's eyes are wide, his mind reeling with the complexity of Plankton's words. "But, Plankton," he says, his voice quivering. "What about the Krabby Patties? Your plans?" Plankton's gaze snaps up, his hands still. "No plans," he says, his voice a sad echo. "No more steal." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his heart racing. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?" he asks, his voice filled with hope and disbelief. Plankton's antennas droop, his hands flapping slightly. "No more schemes," he whispers, his voice a monotone. "No more steal." His eye meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of his old mischief briefly shining through. "But," he adds, his smile mischievous, "still have competitive spirit." His hands begin to flap with excitement. Sponge Bob's heart soars with relief, a smile spreading across his face. "So, you're still the same Plankton," he says, his voice filled with hope. "Just... different. Ok, cool!" Plankton nods, his smile a ghostly reflection of his usual self. "Different," he repeats, his voice a sad echo. "But still have friend?" His antennas wave slightly, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for reassurance. Sponge Bob's heart swells with affection. "Of course, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "We're still friends. Nothing can change that." He squeezes Plankton's shoulder, trying to convey his support.
🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦😭😭😭😭👩🏼👩🏼🤵🤵 wilbur is not okay🇬🇧🇬🇧
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