Pap Emojis & Text

During the appointment, a small sample of cells are taken from your cervix and checked for certain types of human papillomavirus (HPV) that can cause changes to the cells. The procedure might also interact unhelpfully with common Autistic qualities such as differences in how we understand what our body is feeling (interoception), our experience of pain (hypo/ hyper sensitivity) and difficulties in noticing and identifying how we feel (alexithymia). Co-occurring conditions commonly experienced in the Autistic community such as gastro-intestinal issues and joint hypermobility disorders can also have an impact on an Autistic patient’s experience of a screening procedure. Nurse practitioners and doctors may have a limited understanding of the unique and significant ways in which autism and its associated issues impact a patient’s experience of a given medical procedure. This means that the particular supports that might help to alleviate discomfort could be lacking. We might encounter resistance to our own attempts to self-regulate and take care of our sensory and emotional needs during the appointment. We may even experience medical gas lighting or invalidation when attempting to express our experience or request much needed accommodations. For those of us with a history of these types of experiences, just being in a medical environment could feel threatening and unsafe. The communication of pain experienced has often been minimised or overlooked which has resulted in a heightened feeling of dread in advance of appointments and a lack of confidence in the support offered during. We also think that it is deeply wrong that people in our community continue to pay the price for unmet access needs in medical settings. This is an urgent problem that demands institutional change on a broad scale and a shift in mind set amongst medical staff on the ground.

( ͜ ㅅ ͜ )

🎀

⠀⠀⠳⡠⠀⢆⠡⢂⠄⢣⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢂⠰⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠢⠀⠀⠑⣍⠄⡓⢌⣒⣀⣷⠅⣊⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⢆⠡⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⡕⣌⡶⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣟⣷⣾⣶⣾⣿⣶⢎⢸⡿⡼⣽⠦⣅⡃⠊⡔⢀⠂⠔⢀⡀⠈⠸⡐⠄⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⡴⣗⡼⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣳⣽⣯⣻⣯⣝⣦⡭⡔⡈⢦⡟⣀⣦⠕⢏⠌⣢⠀⠀⠀⢌⠃⠀⠀⣞⠀⡙⠻⠣⢆⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣣⢡⡀⢄⠀⡠⢏⡙⢴⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⠚⣜⠃⠀⢀⠔⡧⠄⠂⣽⣿⡟⠀⣥⡚⠁⠁⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣦⢫⡔⢣⡜⡌⢲⠁⡆⡌⠂⢹⣿⣿⣿⢻⣯⡆⠈⠀⠀⠊⠀⢨⣴⣿⣿⢠⣾⣿⣿⣦⡄⢠⠀⠀⠉⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠳⡜⢮⡱⢋⡴⣙⢢⠣⣐⠡⠂⠘⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣶⡜⢞⣼⣿⠿⣏⢯⡝⡾⢿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡄⠁⠐⠄⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢮⡛⡝⢦⡙⡇⠶⡡⢎⠱⡀⠲⠁⠀⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣟⣿⣾⣙⢮⡳⣜⡕⢪⠜⡉⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢎⠣⡙⠹⢦⠹⡜⣡⠓⡌⢂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣿⣭⡒⠋⡄⣡⠚⠀⢁⠂⠼⠋⠠⡙⢿⣿⣶⡔⠁ ⣿⣿⣿⠳⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣆⣩⡀⠀⠀⡀⠐⠠⢡⠘⢢⣽⣋⢷⣶ ⣿⣿⡟⢀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⡁⢂⠤⠉⠎⡴⢩⢮⣹ ⣿⡿⣘⡔⣲⠀⣀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠓⠈⠃⠉⠁⠀ ⣿⡳⣝⢮⣵⣿⣭⣎⣉⠲⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⠻⠿⠟⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⡤⢤⣒⠶ ⣟⡷⣫⢿⡿⣞⣿⣾⣧⢷⡹⢄⡀⠀⠀⢀⡳⣌⢖⡡⢂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢕⣆⡄⡠⢄⣲⣙⢶⡹⣝⣧⡟⣿ ⣯⠷⣯⢿⣽⣻⣟⡾⣽⣛⢶⢣⡜⡥⢊⡴⣓⢮⠮⣕⣫⡜⡴⣡⢂⠄⡠⢀⠄⠀⠀⡸⢟⠀⡦⠀⠀⠀⠋⠞⣵⣏⢶⡹⣎⢿⣹⢶⣻⣽ ⣿⣻⢽⡞⣧⢷⢯⣻⡵⢯⣞⡳⣞⡵⣋⡶⡽⣎⠿⣼⡱⣞⡵⣣⢏⢮⡱⡌⢦⡑⣂⠄⠀⠀⡷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣷⣯⣟⣭⣟⣷⣻ ⣿⣯⣷⣻⡽⣞⣯⢷⣻⢿⣼⣻⢧⣟⣵⣻⣳⢯⣟⣶⣻⢮⢷⣝⣮⢳⡵⣹⢆⡳⢴⣈⠒⣤⡛⣐⠢⢄⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣾⣿⣾⣯⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣽⢾⣻⡾⣽⣻⣾⣽⢯⣟⡿⣾⡽⣯⣟⡾⣾⣽⣛⣮⢗⡯⣞⡳⣬⣛⠶⣹⢧⡛⡴⣌⠳⡬⢒⣄⡠⠴⢪⣽⣿⠿⡟⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⣾⣻⡷⣟⣷⣯⣿⣳⣯⣟⣾⣻⣼⣳⢯⡷⣭⣟⡿⣧⣻⠵⣎⢯⣴⡻⠥⠞⣻⠟⠉⠀⠀⠈⠐ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣟⣯⣷⣿⣳⣿⢾⣽⣯⣟⣧⣿⣻⢷⣽⣻⣼⡿⠋⠀⠀⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣾⣽⣿⡷⣿⣿⡾⣿⡹⡐⢤⢀⢂⡀⠀⡄⢠⢂⠴⣨⠱ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⢯⣟⡶⣽⡹⣖⣫⢖⣬⢳⣜⣣⢞⣧⢳⣻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣾⣟⡾⣽⣳⠿⣵⣻⣞⣷⣻⢮⣷⣻⢮⡿⣵ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣳⣯⣿⣳⣯⢿⣷⣻⣞⣷⣯⣿⢾⣽⣯⢿⣽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣻⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣾⢿⣿⣻⣾⣿⣻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

https://www.jostrust.org.uk/information/cervical-screening/what-happens-during-cervical-screening

🧍🏿‍♀️,🥵

HPV test may be a superior form of screening. Thus far results from studies demonstrated that primary HPV testing detects cervical neoplasia earlier and more accurately than the Pap smear ♥️

🍑𓂸ඞSUSSY🔞🌬𓂸

https://www.kristiangevinemd.com/yearly-pap-smears/

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https://www.kristiangevinemd.com/pap-smears/

If thinking about female screening is too much, you can ask your doctor to take your name off the cervical screening automatic invitation list until you feel stronger. Please be aware that you may be asked why you want your name removed. 🍑 It is also important to remember it is your choice whether to go for said screening and, if you do go, you are in control of the test. 🍑 You may find it helpful to: Ask them to talk you through the test beforehand and show you the speculum and brush. Tell them what words or phrases you prefer or are comfortable with, to help them avoid any language that may be distressing. Tell them how heavy or light their touch should be, or not to touch certain areas if possible. Ask whether you can insert the speculum yourself, if that would feel more comfortable. Ask for a longer or double appointment. This allows you a little extra breathing space before and after the test, so you can take the appointment at a pace that is more comfortable for you. Knowing your limits Remember that if you feel unsafe, uncomfortable or distressed, it is your right to stop or pause the test at any time – whether you simply want a short time to collect yourself, or you would prefer to leave altogether. 🍑 https://www.jostrust.org.uk/forum

..._...|..____________________, , ....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D ...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/ .....), ---.(_(__) / ....// (..) ), ----" ...//___// ..//___// .//___// ιf уσυ ωσυℓ∂ נυмρ ιи fяσит σf α вυℓℓєт fσя уσυя gιяℓfяιєи∂, вσуfяιєи∂, єχ-gιяℓfяιєи∂, єχ-вσуfяιєи∂, вєѕт fяιєи∂, fαмιℓу мємвєя, σя נυѕт α ρєяѕσи уσυ ℓσνє, яє ρσѕт тнιѕ σитσ уσυя ραgє!

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

ᏂᎥ!, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘵𝘰 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚!!

vicenarian (20–29) tricenarian (30–39) quadragenarian (40–49) semicentenarian (50) quinquagenarian (50–59) sexagenarian (60–69) septuagenarian (70–79) octogenarian (80–89) nonagenarian (90–99) ultracentenarian (100+) centenary semisupercentenarian (105–109) supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian centevicenarian ages 120-129 ↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓ sesquicentenarian (150–159) bicentenarian (200–299) multicentenarian (200+) tricentenarian (300–399) quadricentenarian (400–499) quincentenarian (500–599)

the following link https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b6/6f/95/b66f9588647e1c9678fb42c2f75eff1d.jpg if you read the link, it'll tell the history of how our modern speculum’s model after racist history. conventional pap’s using speculum’s which were invented to exploit African Black women. let us remember the victims and recognise how problematic some caucasian white cis men have taken advantage of females, especially non-white’s.

My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide Foeticide, of a fetus Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months Avunculicide, one's uncle Fratricide, one's brother Mariticide, one's husband or significant other Matricide, one's mother Nepoticide, one's nephew Parricide, of one's close relative Patricide, of one's father Sororicide, of one's sister Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend Nepticide, of one's niece Amiticide, of one's aunt Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide

░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░ ▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░ ░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░ ░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░ ▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░ I 🤍 DAD

July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents. Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me. I smiled and asked, “How do you know?” He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.” Love GMH

Pap smear checks the cells and is sensitive to any abnormalities or inflammation It does not screen for all cancer or any other gynecologic cancer. It does not automatically mean you have cancer. There may not even be anything wrong. ~

Potential causes of abnormal or unclear Pap smear results: HPV, which is the most common cause an infection, such as a yeast infection a benign, or noncancerous, growth hormone changes, such as during pregnancy immune system issues This doesn’t necessarily mean that you have cancer. But it does mean that your doctor will probably want to do more testing.

𝑡𝑖𝑝 🎀 ෆ self love is respecting yourself ෆ self love is setting boundaries ෆ self love is not skipping meals ෆ self love is standing firm on your beliefs ෆ self love is being kind to yourself ෆ self love is listening to what your body needs ෆ self love is prioritizing your mental health ෆ self love is embracing your physical “flaws” because it’s a part of you and makes you who you are ෆ self love is leaving people and situations that drain you ෆ self love is saying “no” to situations you’re not comfortable with even if it hurts someone else’s feelings

🧿🌸✨🧿🌸✨🧿🌸✨🧿🌸✨🧿 ⠀ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 🧿🌸✨🧿🌸✨🧿🌸✨🧿🌸✨🧿

𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟏𝟒𝟒𝟑𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟐𝟓: 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

She is working on 3 things right now herself her life her peace She is me 🎀

𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ soft hearted, kind to myself, divine, glowing soul gentle, loving aura, dreaming big 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒

spewystuey • 3y ago • Doctor in the UK here The NHS information on the pap (smear test we call it here) is fairly comprehensive: https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/cervical-screening/why-its-important/ The recommendation here is if you have ever had any such contact then you should have regular screening. In the UK you may choose not to have screening if you've never had said contact, as a) the majority of change and cancers are caused by HPV, which is transmitted and b) changes and cancers not caused by HPV don't tend to be detected by screening (the pap smear) but by symptoms (intermenstrual abnormal discharge) instead You should never feel pressured into an examination., and you always have the option of declining to answer a question, receive all or any part of an examination, or have an investigation such as a blood test or imaging study. It's called "shared decision making" and I encourage all patients to ask 3 questions if they're ever unsure: What are my options? What are the pros and cons of each option for me? How do I get support to help me make a decision that is right for me?

"Pap smear or cytology—collects cells so they can be checked for changes caused by the human papillomavirus, the most common transmitted infection in the United States." says Jessica Rubin, MD, an OB/GYN with Northwell Health. “HPV causes almost all cases of said cancer, and you’re not at risk of HPV until you’ve been active. When you’re younger, your immune system is so healthy, you’re more likely to clear the virus on your own,” notes Rubin. "Pap tests (or Pap smears) look for cancers and precancers. Precancers are cell changes that can be caused by the human papillomavirus (HPV). If not treated, these abnormal cells could lead to cancer." -Dolly Penn, M.D., M.S.C.R., Medical Officer, Healthcare Assessment Research Branch, Healthcare Delivery Research Program, Division of Cancer Control and Population Sciences, National Cancer Institute; and Abbey B. Berenson, M.D., Ph.D., Director, Center for Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Health, Professor of Obstetrics and Gynecology, University of Texas Medical Branch

Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015

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⁾

2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Ages <25 No screening Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Age 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer

𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 ✧˖° “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?” ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ “𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪”

▄︻デ══━一💥 *𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎* “𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧’ 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠” 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 - 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ♪ (　-_･) ︻デ═一 ▸ (/❛o❛)/ ♪

🤬👛👩🏻🔫🐱

👩🎀🐸😈

https://www.acpjournals.org/doi/10.7326/M14-0701

Your doctor should explain what they are doing during every step of the exam. If you have any questions or don’t feel comfortable with what they’re doing, don’t hesitate to speak up!

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝔃𝓮: 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 & 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮. ଓ

Research and ask questions: Educate yourself about potential conditions and treatments, and don’t be afraid to ask your healthcare providers detailed questions about their assessments and the reasons behind them.

AGES 2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Under 25 No screening Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Over 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer

8 ᗰᗴᑎᎢᗩし ᕼᗴᗩしᎢᕼ ᖇᗴᗰᏆᑎᗞᗴᖇᔑ Author's 𓂀𝕰𝖑𝖎𝖏𝖆𝖍𖣲̸☘♕ :zap: 11/05/21 ๑۞๑,¸¸,ø¤º°`°๑۩ - ๑۩ ,¸¸,ø¤º°`°๑۞๑ 1. џɵự'ɾɛ ʂʈɨƚƚ ʋɑƚựɑɓƚɛ, ɛʋɛɲ ɨʄ џɵự ʂʈɾựɠɠƚɛ ʈɵ ɠɛʈ ɵựʈ ɵʄ ɓɛƋ ɨɲ ʈɦɛ ɱɵɾɲɨɲɠ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 2. џɵự Ƌɛʂɛɾʋɛ ʈɵ ɾɛɕɛɨʋɛ ƚɵʋɛ ɨɲ ɨʈʂ ʄựƚƚɛʂʈ Ƌɨʋɨɲɨʈџ, Ƌɛʂϼɨʈɛ џɵự ɱɛɲʈɑƚ ɦɛɑƚʈɦ ʂʈɑʈựʂ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 3. џɵự ƙɛɛϼ ɠɵɨɲɠ, ɛɑɕɦ ʈɨɱɛ,Ƌɛʂϼɨʈɛ ʈɦɛ ɕɦɑƚƚɛɲɠɛʂ џɵự ʄɑɕɛ ɑɲƋ ʈɦɨʂ Ƌɛʂɛɾʋɛʂ џɵựɾ ɑɕƙɲɵϣƚɛƋɠɛɱɛɲʈ ɑɲƋ ϼɾɑɨʂɛ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 4. џɵự ʂựɾʋɨʋɛƋ ʈɦɛ Ƌɑɾƙɛʂʈ ϼɛɾɨɵƋʂ ɨɲ ƚɨʄɛ, Ƌɵɲ'ʈ ʂɦџ ɑϣɑџ ʄɾɵɱ ʈɦɛ ɵϼϼɵɾʈựɲɨʈџɓʈɵ ʄɨɲɑƚƚџ ɛӝϼɛɾɨɛɲɕɛ ʈɦɛ ƚɨɠɦʈ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 5. џɵự ɑɾɛ ϣɵɾʈɦ ʈɦɛ "ɓựɾƋɛɲ" ɑɲƋ ʈɦɛ ƋɛƋɨɕɑʈɨɵɲ ɵʄ ʈɨɱɛ ʈɦɑʈ ɨʂ ɾɛɋựɨɾɛƋ ʈɵ ɦɛƚϼ џɵự ɾɛɕɵʋɛɾ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 6. џɵự ɑɾɛ ƚɵʋɛƋ. џɵự ɑɾɛ ƚɵʋɛƋ Ƌựɾɨɲɠ ʈɦɛ ɠɵɵƋ Ƌɑџʂ, ϣɦɛɲ ʈɦɛ ϣɑɾɱʈɦ ʄɾɵɱ ʈɦɛ ʂựɲ ʈɵựɕɦɛʂ џɵựɾ ʂƙɨɲ, ɾɛɱɨɲƋɨɲɠ џɵự ϣɦџ ɨʈ'ʂ ɛʂʂɛɲʈɨɑƚ ʈɵ ɓɛ ϼɾɛʂɛɲʈ, ʈɵ ʈɦɛ ƚɵɲɠ ɲɨɠɦʈʂ, ϣɦɛɾɛ ʂƚɛɛϼ ʄɑɨƚʂ ʈɵ ɑɾɾɨʋɛ, ƚɛɑʋɨɲɠ џɵự ɕɵɲʂựɱɛ ϣɨʈɦ ɑɲӝɨɛʈџ, ƚɵɲɛƚɨɲɛʂʂ, ɵʋɛɾʈɦɨɲɠƙɨɲɠ ɑɲƋ ʄɛɑɾ. ɾɛɠɑɾƋƚɛʂʂ ɵʄ ϣɦɑʈ ɱɑџ ɕɵɱɛ, ɑƚϣɑџʂ ɾɛɱɛɱɓɛɾ, ʈɦɑʈ џɵự ɑɾɛ ƚɵʋɛƋ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 7. џɵự ɑɾɛ ɲɵʈ ɑ ʄɑɨƚựɾɛ, ϳựʂʈ ɓɛɕɑựʂɛ џɵự'ɾɛ ʄɨɲƋɨɲɠ ɨʈ Ƌɨʄʄɨɕựƚʈ ʈɵ ɓɛ ϼɾɵƋựɕʈɨʋɛ. џɵự ϣɨƚƚ ɑƚϣɑџʂ ɦɑʋɛ ʈɦɛ ɕɦɑɲɕɛ ʈɵɕɑʈɕɦ ựϼ ɑɲƋ ʈɾџ ɑɠɑɨɲ. ɓựʈ ʄɵɾ ɲɵϣ ʈɑƙɛ џɵựɾ ʈɨɱɛ. ☆.｡.:* - *:.｡.☆ 8. ʂʈɵϼ ɑɓɑɲƋɵɲɨɲɠ џɵựɾʂɛƚʄ. ๑۞๑,¸¸,ø¤º°`°๑۩ - ๑۩ ,¸¸,ø¤º°`°๑۞๑

Straighten out Stand with your back pressed against the wall and place your feet 30cm apart and 10cm away from the wall. Sink down Slowly bend your knee(s) and slide down the wall by 45cm, making sure your-middle back is touching the wall. Push back up Return to the start; keep your lower back on the wall as long as possible. Walk away with your head held high. And it can be as simple as lying on the floor with your knee(s) bent, using two or three books as a headrest (staying in this position for 10 minutes can rid you of shoulder cramps,) or rolling your head(s) forward to improve your posture. Inch your way to success.

Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM Mom <Your great aunt just passed away. LOL Why is that funny?> <It's not funny! Wht do you mean? Mom lol means laughing out loud!> <Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.

i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.

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r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."

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http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/stmaryscem.htm

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ 🚩⠀ One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.

“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer

🔵 The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 - - also on December 20. 🔵

˚˖𓍢🌷✧˚.🎀⋆

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🫶🏻,🎀

it’s okay if … ⁀➴ you do nothing some days ⁀➴ you made a mistake ⁀➴ you struggle to accept help ⁀➴ you are overthinking it ⁀➴ you are not there yet ⁀➴ you keep your ideas to yourself ⁀➴ you aren’t yet ready to change

𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 ~ 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS v (Autistic Author) Karen watches the exchange, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. "Plankton," she says gently. "What can Chip do to help you?" "Just be patient," he says. "And maybe don't touch me to much." Chip's eyes widen at the admission, and he nods solemnly. "Okay," he says. "But what if you don't look okay?" Plankton's antennae twitch in what Karen recognizes as a sign of discomfort, but he answers. "Inform Karen, I mean uh ‘Mommy’, but just wait for me to come back I guess," he says. "Don't call panicked attention to it." Chip nods, his eyes searching Plankton's face. "But what if you fall down or something?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Well, if that happens," he says, his voice gruff but gentle, "you can offer to help me up, yet also same thing. But then just remember to give me some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I will, Dad," he says, voice earnest. Karen feels a knot in her throat, watching the two of them. Plankton's vulnerability is a rare sight, but she knows it's a step in the right direction. She decides to push the conversation a bit further. "Chip," she says softly. "Do you have any more questions?" Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching. "Why’d you get so mad when asking you questions?" Plankton's antennae twitch again, a hint of frustration in his eye. "It's just... it's hard to explain," he says, his voice tight. "I know you're trying to help, but sometimes it feels like you're poking at a sore spot." Chip's expression falls, his lower lip trembling. "But I didn't mean to hurt you, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping to his side. "I know you didn't," he says, his voice softer. "It's just that sometimes, when people ask questions about it, it feels like they're not accepting me the way I am." Karen's heart breaks a little at her husband's words, but she knows this is a breakthrough. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "What Daddy's trying to say is that sometimes, it's hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "But you're still my dad," he says, his voice firm. "I'll always love you, no matter what." Plankton's antennae twitch as he nods and for a moment, Karen sees a flicker of emotion in his eye. The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Karen's heart is racing, knowing this is a pivotal moment. Plankton has always struggled with expressing his emotions, especially with their son. The words "I love you" are as foreign to him as the surface world. "I know you do, buddy," Plankton says, his voice gruff. He clears his throat, looking down at the rock on the coffee table. "But for me, it's not always easy to say those words." He looks up at Chip, his eye filled with something Karen can't quite place—pain, perhaps, or regret. "But just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "But why can't you say it?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennae droop, and he looks away, his eye avoiding contact with both Karen and Chip. "I just want to make sure you know that I love you," Chip says, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Isn't that what families do?" The room seems to shrink around them, the air charged with anticipation. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up, and his eye narrows into a glare. Karen can almost see the cogs turning in his mind, the struggle to find the right words. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp as a knife. Chip flinches, but Karen squeezes his hand, giving him the courage to keep asking. "I just want to understand," Chip whispers. Plankton's eye flashes with irritation. "Why does it matter so much?" he snaps, his antennae quivering. "Why do you have to know everything?" Chip shrinks back, his voice trembling. "Because I don't want you to be sad," he says, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton processes Chip's words. His antennae quiver, his eye flitting between his son and Karen, who's watching with a silent plea for patience. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What's so important about me saying it?" Karen's eyes are filled with a silent apology as she sees the confusion and hurt on Chip's face. She knows Plankton's words are a defense mechanism, a way to keep his own fears at bay. But she also knows how much their son needs to hear those words. "Plankton," she says gently, her voice a soft reminder of the love in the room. "Chip just wants to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping in defeat. "I know," he murmurs. "I just... I don't know how to explain it so he gets it." Karen nods, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Chip," she says, her voice soft. "Daddy's trying, okay?" But Chip's eyes are on Plankton, searching for answers that Plankton seems unwilling to give. Plankton's antennae are a blur of movement, his frustration palpable in the air. "I don't know how to explain it so you'll get it!" he snaps, his voice echoing off the walls. Chip's eyes widen, and he withdraws further into himself, clutching the rock tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice shaking. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, a silent plea for calm. "Plankton," she says gently, "you don't have to explain everything right now. We just want to help." But Plankton's antennae are a blur of agitation, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I don't know what you want from me," he says, his voice tight. "I'm trying to be honest, but it feels like no matter what I say, it's not enough." Karen can see the frustration in her husband's movements, his antennae waving erratically. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she soothes, her voice a gentle reminder of the love in the room. Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae stiff with tension. "But Chip expects me to," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of accusation. "You want me to just lay it all out, like it's simple." Karen can feel the frustration rolling off of him, and she knows that pushing him further won't help. "I know it's hard," she says, her voice soothing. "But we can take it slow, okay?" Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his eye still narrowed in irritation. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't expect me to be good at it." The tension in the room is thick, but Karen refuses to let it linger. She takes a deep breath, her eyes on Chip. "Why don't we start by talking about what happened today?" she suggests, her voice calm and even. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, his eye flicking to Chip before looking away again. "Ok," he says, his voice tight. "Do you remember what happened at the park today?" Karen asks, keeping her voice gentle and steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods stiffly. "Yes," he says, his voice tight. "I had one of my... moments." Chip looks at him, his eyes wide with concern. "Is it okay with Dad…" "I'm right here, buddy," Plankton interrupts, his antennae still, his eye fixed on the floor. "And I'm okay." But Chip isn't convinced. "But you weren't okay at the park," he says, his voice quivering. "You were scared I think.." Plankton's antennae shoot up in frustration. "I was not scared!" he snaps, his voice echoing through the room. "It's just... it's hard to explain!" Karen's heart squeezes, watching her husband's distress, but she knows they need to keep the conversation going. "Chip," she says gently, "why don't you tell us what you felt when you saw Daddy's moment?" Chip looks at Karen, his eyes glistening. "I was scared," he admits, his voice shaky. "I didn't know what to do, and everyone was looking." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flicking to the floor. He's visibly upset, and Karen can see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I just want to know," Chip says, his voice trembling, "I wanna know why you…" But before he can finish, Plankton's antennae shoot up in anger, his eye flashing with a fury. "Why do you keep poking at me like that?" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he jumps back, his small body trembling. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the fear in her son's eyes, and she knows that Plankton's outburst isn't helping. "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension.

Adrenal Gland Tumor(Pheochromocytoma) Anosmia( Loss of Smell) Athletes Foot( Tinea Pedis) Bad Breath(Halitosis , Oral Malodor) Bedwetting(Enuresis) Bile Duct Cancer(Cholangiocarcinoma) Blackheads(Comedones) Bleedingnose(Nosebleed / Epistaxis) Blepharospasm - Eye Twitching(Eye Twitching - Blepharospasm) Bulging Eyes(Eye Proptosis | Exophthalmos) Cephalgia(Headache) Cheilitis | Chapped Lips Conjunctivitis( Pink Eye) Dry Skin(Xerosis) Fasciculations(Muscle Twitching) Fever(Pyrexia) Gallstones(Cholelithiasis) Herpangina (Painful Mouth Infection)(Mouth Blisters) Itchy Skin(Pruritus) Kinetosis(Travel Sickness / Sea sickness | Space sickness / Motion Sickness) Nervous Tic(Trigeminal Neuralgia) Ringworm(Tinea / Dermatophytosis) Singultus(Hiccups , Hiccoughs , Synchronous Diaphragmatic Flutter (SDF)) Smelly Feet(Bromodosis) Sneezing(Sternutation) Stiff Neck(Neck Pain / Cervicalgia) Stomach Flu(Gastroenteritis) Strabismus|Squint Utricaria(Hives) Uveitis(Eye Inflammation) Xerostomia(Dry Mouth)

r/TwoSentenceHorror 34 min. ago MistStarz “Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” mother comforted her terrıfıed daughter. “So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”

July 1996 . Twins can be conjoined at the: Abdomen (omphalopagus). Chest (thoracopagus). Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus). Head only (craniopagus). Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus). Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus). Rump-to-rump (pygopagus). Vertebral column (rachipagus). Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs. Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs. Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused. Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects. Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos

confusion, or being unable to think with your normal level of clarity and may result in poor decision-making. delirium, your thoughts are confused and illogical or being confused and having disrupted attention delusions, or believing things even if they’re false agitation, or feelings of aggressiveness and restlessness hallucinations, or seeing or hearing things that aren’t there The medical term for fainting is syncope, but it’s more commonly known as “passing out.” A fainting spell generally lasts from a few seconds to a few minutes. Feeling lightheaded, dizzy, weak, or nauseous sometimes happens before you faint. Some people become aware that noises are fading away, or they describe the sensation as “blacking out” or “whiting out.” Even mild head injuries can lead to a concussion. This can cause you to have memory issues and confusion. Most of the time, if you have a concussion, you may not remember the events that led to the injury.‌ Seizures can also cause memory problems. Sometimes, directly after a seizure, you can enter a state of post-ictal confusion. This means you may be confused and not remember what happened directly before the seizure or what you did after the seizure happened. Generally, your memory of those events will come back within 5-30 minutes, once the post-ictal state is over. A blackout from intoxication is due to a brain malfunction. Your brain stops saving the things you do as memories. You may act normally and do things like socialize, eat, drive, and drink. But your brain is impaired and does not record your memories sufficiently during this time. What Are the Signs? Symptoms can vary. Some people become quiet and withdrawn, while others get nervous and upset. They may: Struggle to focus Seem groggy, like they can’t wake up all the way Mumble or say things that don’t make sense Not recognise you or know where they are A full recovery usually takes a few minutes. If there’s no underlying medical condition causing you to faint, you may not need any treatment.

Consider these tips to mentally prepare for your exam: Use relaxation techniques or distraction. Relaxation techniques, such as deep breathing, guided imagery and mindfulness, can be beneficial leading up to and during your exam. Also, throughout the exam, you can close your eyes, inhale through your nose for four seconds and then exhale through your mouth for four seconds. You may want to listen to music or watch a video to distract your mind. You also can bring a partner, family member or friend to talk to during the process. Talk to your health care provider. Let your provider know you are nervous and explain how you are feeling. Ask as many questions as you need and seek advice on how to make the exam easier, such as different positions and/or using a smaller speculum to ease discomfort or pain. You can ask your provider to talk you through the exam step by step so that you are prepared for what is about to happen. If you have health anxiety, fear of the unknown or body dysmorphia, it's important to let your provider know so he or she can help you through the exam. Say "stop" if you are in pain. You can ask your provider to stop at any time if you are uncomfortable or in pain. Reward your efforts. Congratulate yourself on what you have achieved by doing something that makes you happy, such as going to lunch with a friend, watching a movie or reading a new book.

22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby. Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned. Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later. Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH. Dec 1st, 2014

Date: 15/12/22 Autistic qualities such as differences in how we understand what our body is feeling (interoception), our experience of pain (hypo/ hyper sensitivity) and difficulties in noticing and identifying how we feel (alexithymia) Nurse practitioners and doctors may have a limited understanding of the unique and significant ways in which autism and its associated issues impact a patient’s experience of a given medical procedure. This means that the particular supports that might help to alleviate discomfort could be lacking. We might encounter resistance to our own attempts to self- regulate and take care of our sensory and emotional needs during the appointment. We may even experience medical gas lighting or invalidation when attempting to express our experience or request much needed accommodations ( we know that this happens at higher rates amongst female presenting people, people of colour and those with additional learning disabilities in our community). For those of us with a history of these types of experiences, just being in a medical environment could feel threatening and unsafe. * Autistic person with a particular set of qualities and traits, this is not a prediction of what others might encounter or an attempt to generalise my own experience to the broader community. Date: 15/12/22

In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later. Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby. Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy. Mom, your LGMH Dec 1st, 2014

Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones Amicicide: of one’s friend (amicus - friend) Avunculicide: of one’s uncle (avunculus - maternal uncle) Familicide: of one’s family (spouse and children) (familia - family) Filicide: of one’s daughter or son (filia - daughter; filius - son) Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling) Mariticide: of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse) Matricide: of one’s mother (mater - mother) Neonaticide: of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born) Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father) Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring) Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man) Sororicide: of one’s sister (soror - sister) Uxoricide: of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse) Amiticide: of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt) Aniclicide: of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman) Avicide: of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather) Conjicide: of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife) Nepticide: of one’s niece (nepti - niece)

𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝜗𝜚 ✦ dry, sunny weather. it’s been raining for literal months every single day where i live! enough! ✦ seeing snow. it doesn’t snow where i live, so a bonus would be travelling somewhere nice ✦ my hair growing all the way down to my midriff ✦ receiving really great news out of the blue ✦ witchbrook and haunted chocolatier being released ✦ a healthy sleep schedule and sleeping well ✦ cute comfy clothes for winter ✦ a baby pink stanley cup ✦ more floral patchwork bedding ✦ being ridiculously lucky. always getting away with everything lucky. finding hundreds on the ground lucky. winning every giveaway ever lucky ✦ being able to live a slow, cozy life ✦ everything about me and my life being extremely aesthetically pleasing

I've been bulimic for 3 years. I was crying as I went to go purge, when my little brother grabbed my hand and asked if he could read me a story. One hour later, I found myself asleep in his bed; he was laying on the ground praying for God to "make me happy and healthy again." Joshie, your LGMH. May 4th, 2010, 2:12 PM

WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.

Date: 15/12/22 Support Tips: Preparation: in order to best prepare some actions might include ~ Considering your sensory needs- pack a bag with sensory aids such as headphones, earplugs, coloured glasses, stim tools, comfort items and so on to support your comfort whilst at your appointment. Considering your communication needs- perhaps take a trusted friend or family member to support with verbal communication, a hospital passport that you can share with staff or notes including scripted comments or responses that you can refer to during the appointment to support with or replace verbal speech. Wear suitable clothing that can be easily taken on and off. To minimise uncertainty, research what is involved in the procedure before attending so that you have a good idea what to expect. Write out a list of questions to avoid relying on memory during a potentially stressful experience. Plan your travel route in advance and leave plenty of time to get to your appointment to minimise anxiety and allow time to adjust to the environment upon arrival. Engage in calming, grounding techniques prior to the appointment start time. During: whilst at the appointment it may be helpful to ~ Ask for the nurse practitioner to talk you through the procedure in full before it commences, preferably with use of images or demonstrations with relevant equipment. Be open about which aspects of the experience you might struggle with as an Autistic person and request particular adjustments. Engage in grounding techniques such as mindful breathing. Hold on to a stim object that is comforting or acts as a stress reliever. Listen to music to support self-regulation. Share your concerns or worries with the nurse practitioner to invite reassurance or helpful advice. Remember your reason for attending and why it is important for you. Aftercare: following the procedure, it is a good idea to plan in some time for self-care and self-regulation, some ideas might include ~ Get yourself into a sensory safe space where things feel predictable and calm (for e.g. a quiet room with dim lighting, weighted blanket etc). Arrange to debrief/chat to a friend or another supportive person about your experience after leaving your appointment. Arrange to meet with a trusted person following the procedure to support you with getting back home or perhaps to do something you might enjoy together. Engage in your dedicated interest. Acknowledge your achievement in attending and getting through the appointment. Journal about your experience to help with emotional processing. Engage in your favourite stim to release any tension that may remain in your b0dy. Allow yourself to physically rest or sleep once back at home. Date: 15/12/22

r/shortscarystories 10 hr. ago KieranWriter Family Photo The father stood at the front of the family photo and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side and he had his arms around her. The camera was an automatic one the father had set before quickly running to get in to the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes... The father put the kids to their beds and then his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives; her favourite! It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything that he said he would. A real whizz around the house. The house was sparkling by the time he had finished. There was a chime on Deborah’s phone. It was her sister Mary - Hey, not heard from you all day. You ok? Deborah won’t mind, I will just shoot off a short message so that Mary isn’t too alarmed. - Hey all good, just watching TV, really tired. Long day. Off to bed soon xx. It’s fine. They look at each other’s phones all the time. There’s trust in this relationship. A reply from Mary - OK call me tomorrow xx The father thought for a moment, just a moment, a flicker of worry, then replied - sorry better I don’t, I’ve caught a bad sore throat. The father went into the living room to Deborah and gave her a big kiss on the forehead... The next day, the father puts the frame up in the hallway, it will be the first thing that people will see when they walk into the house - the beautiful family, everybody’s dream... Then he spent about an hour mowing the lawn. After everything around the house was sorted, the father knew he could relax, finally relax and that the pressure was on for anything unexpected visits, so they don't walk into a dirty home... He got into the car and took it out of the garage, turned it around and hit the road heading out of suburbs and through the city. He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes a man needs a change and this father needs a fresh start. It wasn’t his first change of scenery. He looked at the copy of the picture of his wife and kids on the dash board and he felt a stab of pain... If only he had taken that picture when they were still alive...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago SkullStar “I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled. The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.

owlet: i think it’s importaпt to acknowledge that there is a contingent of doctors who have been… uh… coasting ever since med school ended. here’s a quick crash c̀ourse in telling them apart competent doctor: recognises that your sympt0ms sound familiar but also realises that the illness is outside the scope of their expertise, so they give you a referral incompetent doctor: doesn’t recognise your sympt0ms, chalks it all up to a m3ntal health and/or weıght prxblem and refuses any follow-up care competent doctor: stays up to date on the latest research in their field, is interested in sharing newly-discovered ınformαtıon with you incompetent doctor: maintains the absolute minimum amount of knowledge to not have their licence revoked competent doctor: approaches their patients with good faith incompetent doctor: assumes all patients are deceptive and have ulterior motives competent doctor: recognises crying and other overt paın sympt0ms as unacceptable and tries to resolve your paın any way they’re able incompetent doctor: ignores paın and either refuses to attempt to treat yours or willingly worsens it during a treatment by ignoring your reactions competent doctor: realises they don’t have all the answers, isn’t intimidated by the thought that you attend other doctors incompetent doctor: views their patients as income-generators and feels personally insulted when you attempt to leave their practise competent doctor: recognises all their patients are people; will be transparent about your treatment and speak to you with advanced and specific terminology if you demonstrate that you úndèrständ incompetent doctor: views patients as a sub-class of people, justifies lying to patients as “for their own goo͠d” (via intp-fluffy-robot) Jan 08, 2022

I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him. Amen." Little kids GMH Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR

https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B Francis Edmund Bessette Male 1904 - 1917 (~ 12 years) Name Francis Edmund Bessette Father Augustin Seymour Bessette, b. 1870, d. 28 Aug 1948 (Age 78 years) Mother Marie Louise Poulin Born Jul 1904 Richford, Vermont Gender Male Died 1917 Richford, Vermont The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919 Boy Suffocates In Elevator Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath. The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours. The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation. Buried All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B

Today my aunt found out she's having a girl She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as wonderful" My aunts love for me GMH:) Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S

Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it". Loving families like this GMH ! Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E, Nashville, TN

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Classic-Dog8399 ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵖˡˢ ⬇️ When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her. It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.

🅱️✡✡️🕎🕎⁉👃⁉

🅱️✡✡️🕎🕎⁉👃⁉㊙

🥺💕

☁️🎀🧸

ᥫ᭡𝜗𝜚ಇ.

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 16 hr. ago mag2170 The procedure was a success and yet, I feel like my concerns on the trial are b-being sup...suppr... The procedure was a success.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ this is your journey — it’s completely normal to grow and change. it’s okay to outgrow people and let go of things that no longer serve you ꒰❤︎꒱

▄█▀─▄▄▄▄▄▄▄─▀█▄ ▀█████████████▀ ────█▄███▄█ ─────█████ ─────█▀█▀█

⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

make this an app! >3˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—

r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago deontistic Unnatural Birth ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance. Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed. I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın. I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . . I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .

r/shortscarystories 1 day ago CBenson1273 My Aunt Tried To Protect Me From My Mother My childhood was a nightmare. My mother hated me and took every chance to show it. Nothing I ever did was good enough. ‘B’s on report cards were because I was stupid. Unfinished chores were because I was lazy. Any beatings I got were because I deserved them. And my father was just as bad. Fortunately, her sister was my refuge. When things got too bad, I could go over there to escape for a day or two. Perhaps that was why my mother didn’t like Aunt Lisa. The feeling was mutual. So I was surprised when my aunt told me she’d invited my parents over for tea tomorrow. “Why would you invite them here? The whole reason I come here is to get away from them!!” “I know,” she replied. “But that all ends tomorrow. I’m going to have a talk with them; they aren’t going to mistreat you anymore.” I knew in my heart they’d never change, but she was determined to try. The next day, I sat in the corner as my parents entered. “There you are, you wretched child,” my mother said. “Come home this instant and stop causing trouble!” “Now, now, Lydia,” replied my Aunt. “That behavior is exactly why I called you over today. It’s quite enough.” “HOW DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO RAIS—!” “Do calm down, Lydia. All that screaming isn’t good for your blood pressure. What’s say we all relax, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss this like adults?” My mother still looked furious, but she took the proffered cup and retook her seat. “How you treat Annie isn’t right. It needs to stop.” “You have no say in what I do in MY home. And whatever MY daughter gets, I can assure you it’s deserved.” “So you aren’t open to change, then?” “Absolutely not - that girl’s gotten exactly what she deserves.” “Very well, then. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” “Come to wh—“ my mother started when she suddenly began to foam at the mouth and grasp at her throat. “Don’t mind that,” my Aunt said. “Just a bit of poison I placed in your cups. I was hoping you’d agree to change your ways, but clearly you never will. Goodbye, sister.” After my parents had collapsed on the floor, I looked over at my aunt. “What did you do?” “What needed to be done,” she replied. “But what if they’d agreed to stop?” “Then I’d have given them the antidote I was keeping in my purs—“ A look of shock crossed her face as her throat closed, replaced by panic as she rifled desperately through her purse. “Looking for this?” I asked, holding up her syringe. “But…. why?” my aunt asked as she collapsed. “Remember all those times you saw my bruises and scars and sent me back there anyway?” “But I loved you like a daughter,” she gasped with her final breath. “Then you should’ve done better,” I said

r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago Intrepid_Wanderer ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ Delivery Room My grandparents were worried when I said I'd decided to get the tablet. They're a bit old-fashioned, but they mean well. The thing is, it's 2084. Most people who can get the tablet just go ahead and accelerate through all nine months of pregnancy. The baby can be born as soon as the parents like- no need to endure mornıng sickness or false warnings for labor. And miscarriages are nearly a thing of the past- most babies are accelerated at the first warning. Medical technology is truly amazing. Not everyone accelerates. Some people worry about those obscure studies on bonding ability in accelerated babies, some consider a "natural" course an unmissable experience and some just don't have access to it. Most of the time, though, people accelerate. I was so excited to get to the hospital. I didn't even get an ultrasound done first- the test was positive, and I was about to see my baby anyway in a few minutes. There were the occasional horror stories. Most of them were urban legends, tales of some quack who messed up and made horrific things happen. Truth was, there was very little to mess up, especially at a nice clinic like this one. With today's medications, I could expect to hardly feel the labor and go home with my family on the same day. They said I'd feel a tingling in my abdomen, maybe even some light kicking. At first I did, but it was more uncomfortable than I'd imagined. It was like a twisting, stretching sensation inside of me. I hated to imagine what it might have been like if the tablet didn't also act as an aesthetic. I tried to close my eyes and breathe through it. Something was soaking through the bed- must be my water breakıng. But it smelled metallic, and I was so dizzy. Why didn't I hear crying? Shouldn't it have worked by now? Someone started shouting, but I couldn't open my eyes to see why. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a doctor asking about ultrasounds and the words "ectopic pregnancy."

coquette ୨ৎ ꨄ︎ꨄ︎

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ & ꜱᴜʀɢᴇʀʏ “Good morning, Ms!” Ms has hypersensitivity due to autism. Even a slight touch is unbearably painful! How will Ms get through the medical exam? Ms sits on the exam table, heart racing. Ms tries to focus on the poster of a serene beach scene to calm herself. Dr. Hartwell, noticing her distress, approaches carefully. "Ms I know this can be overwhelming. But I'm here to help you. We'll take it slow, okay?" Ms nods, gripping the cold metal bar tightly. He starts with gentle explanations of each step, his voice calm and steady. Ms tries to breathe deeply, fighting the urge to retreat. The door clicks shut, a soft, final sound that echoes in the sterile room. He asks if she's ready, and she shrugs. His gloved hand touches her skin, and she tenses. "Ms, I'm sorry," Dr. Hartwell says, retreating slightly. He tries a different approach, his voice softer now. "How about I touch with less pressure?" The pain subsides a fraction, but it still remains. Dr. Hartwell then gets out a big metal speculum. Ms sees it, feels it, she’s uncontrollably shaking. "Ms," Dr. Hartwell says calmly, placing the speculum down. “Sorry. To big and hard,” Ms manages. The doctor nods thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving hers. “Let's use this instead,” he says, picking up a smaller, plastic one. It's less daunting, less cold, but the pain lingers, unbearable. Ms grips the bar tighter, her knuckles white with strain. “You're doing great,” Dr. Hartwell whispers, his voice a balm. He inserts the speculum slowly, his eyes on her face, reading every twitch, every flinch. Ms squeezes her eyes shut, body rigid with tension. The plastic touches, slides, and she gasps, but it's more unbearable than she feared. Dr. Hartwell stops immediately, his expression filled with concern. "Would you like to insert it?" He gently withdraws the tool. They’re running out of time. He looks around the room. "How about we try this?" he asks, his voice a gentle coax. "You can sit in the chair, lean back, and I'll examine you that way." Ms nods, desperation in her eyes. Dr. Hartwell adjusts the chair, bringing the foot rest closer. He tells her to put her feet up, the action itself traumatizing. He takes the smaller speculum, coated it in gel, and tells her to breathe deeply. Dr. Hartwell proceeds, his movements precise and gentle. Ms feels the pressure, the intrusion. She whimpers. The doctor's eyes meet hers, filled with understanding. "Let's try this," he suggests, picking up a small object. "I'm going to use this cotton swab instead. It's softer, less intrusive." Ms nods, the fear lessening ever so slightly. The cotton swab touches her gently. The pain does not vanish, but it's tolerable, a dull throb instead of a piercing scream. The doctor's voice remains calm, guiding her through the motions. “Good. Now for a mammogram..” Ms feels a new wave of anxiety crash over her. The machine looms in the corner, cold and unforgiving. "It’s important we check everything today," Dr. Hartwell explains, his eyes kind and patient. "But I know this is hard for you. Can you please stand up and come…” Ms, however, is still shaking, knows her hypersensitive condition will render it. The doctor notices and quickly adapts. "How about we skip the mammogram for now and discuss other options?" They talk through alternatives, like manual self-checks at home. Dr. Hartwell assures her that her health is his priority. He's willing to work with her to find the best approach, one that's comfortable and effective. Ms feels a glimmer of hope, a hint of trust and gratitude. They agree on a plan: a manual exam for today, and they'll explore further options for if needed. Her eyes light up with hope. They go over the instructions, simple steps she can do herself. Ms feels empowered by the idea of having control over the process. The doctor's empathy is palpable. They practice together, a mock exam with a plastic model. Mis's hands shake slightly as she mimics his gentle touch. He corrects her grip, praising each small victory. “Your in need of two hormone inoculations.” Dr. Hartwell says. Mis's heart sinks. She hates the sharp sting, the feeling of invasion. She looks at the needle, so thin and yet so terrifying. Her anxiety spikes, her chest constricts, making it hard to breathe. Dr. Hartwell notices and nods. "Ok let's try something different," he says, his voice calm and measured. He shows her a cream, explaining how it can help. They apply it, waiting for it to work. Finally, the time comes. Dr. Hartwell holds the needle, his grip steady and firm. His touch is swift and sure, but Ms feels the pain, a sharp reminder of her vulnerability. “One down, one more to…” But she cries. Dr. Hartwell pauses, understanding in his eyes. "It's ok," he says gently. "We can find another way." He sets it aside and pulls out a small device. "This is a topical anesthetic spray. It will numb the area so you don't feel as much." Mis nods, desperate. He applies the spray, and she feels a coldness spread where the inoculation will soon be. The doctor waits patiently, letting the numbing agent work its magic. Mis's breathing slows, the panic easing slightly. "Ready?" he asks, his voice soothing. This time, the approach is less terrifying. It’s administered with minimal discomfort. Ms winces but does not pull away. The pain is there, but it's muffled. Dr. Hartwell nods, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "Good job, Ms. You're doing so well." Ms needs a blood draw. She's not just afraid of needles, but the anticipation of pain, the cold touch of the alcohol swab, the pressure of the phlebotomist's grip...it's all too much. Not to mention the actual poking prick.. Dr. Hartwell notices and suggests a compromise. They'll use a butterfly needle, smaller and more comfortable, and a warmer to heat before drawn. The nurse prepares the equipment, movements efficient and kind. She's used to dealing with anxious patients, but Mis's fear isn’t just fear or annoyance; it’s autistic condition and hypersensitivity that Ms herself knows limited pain tolerance. The nurse wraps the warm cloth around Mis's arm, and the gentle heat seeps. Dr. Hartwell takes his place beside her, holding the small butterfly needle with a cotton ball at the tip. The nurse places the heated alcohol swab on the inner elbow, and Ms tenses. It's a gentle poke and she feels the slight sting as the nurse inserts it. But of course the sting is magnified for Ms. The nurse is quick, her hands steady with expert ease, and the whole process is over in seconds. Mis's heart is racing, her body shaking. Dr. Hartwell rubs her shoulder, his touch a reassurance. "It's over," he says softly. "You did it." Ms nods. "What can we use for next time?" The nurse asks. “X-rays, different form of the hormonal injection where no needles are involved, urinal test instead of bleeding? A bigger room? Child sedatives?” Ms murmurs. Dr. Hartwell nods, scribbling down notes. "We'll explore all those options. In the meantime, you can go home!" “Thanks..” Ms says. The next appointment, Mis goes knowing her sensitivities have not changed. This time, Dr. Hartwell meets her in the hall. Mis breaks down, despite being gratefully understanding and trying to be brave. They take her to a quieter, more private exam room, decorated with soothing colors and a soft, plush chair. "Take your time, and tell when you're ready." Ms sits down. She sees a box labeled "DIY Health Kits" and feels a spark of curiosity. Dr. Hartwell opens the box, revealing an array of tools and instructions tailored to her needs. "This is your DIY health kit," he explains, his voice calm and soothing. "You can use to perform self-exams at home. It's less invasive, and you can do it on your own terms." Ms nods, a flicker of hope in her eyes, tears of relief instead of upset tears. He hands a small container with a test strip inside. "This is for urine. It's quick and easy, and it will tell what needs to know." Ms takes the container, follows his instructions, each step a small victory. Dr. Hartwell shows her a slim device, similar to a tampon but with a small cap. "This is DIY Pap. You insert it like so, then twist to collect a sample." The vibrating ice pack is next. "For finger pricks," he says, his voice calm. Ms looks at it, a strange mix of relief and curiosity. The thought of doing it herself is less terrifying than the clinic. "Now, let's talk mammograms," Dr. Hartwell says, his gaze soft. He shows her a handheld scanning device. "This is a DIY mammogram. It uses sound waves, no radiation, and it's less invasive than the traditional. You can use it in the privacy of your home, at your own pace. It's designed to be gentle." Ms nods, the fear slightly eased. The doctor opens another compartment in the DIY health kit, revealing a pack of colonoscopy strips. "These are for checking your bowel health. They're painless and easy to use. All you do is defecate on this, will tell what’s going on down there, ok?" Ms nods. The idea of self-examination is less daunting than the traditional methods. Dr. Hartwell's empathy is a balm, his patience unyielding. He opens the last compartment. Inside, she finds a set of small patches. "These are the hormonal patches," he says, holding one up. "They're like stickers. You just apply one to your skin, and it delivers the medicine through your skin. No needles." Mis's eyes widen. It's like he's reading her mind, offering a solution tailored to her fears. Ms feels a surge of gratitude to Dr. Hartwell. His understanding and willingness to adapt to her needs make her feel seen and heard, something she's not used to, in a medical setting. For the first time, Ms feels a glimmer of hope that she can take control of without the debilitating pain nor fear of ableist microaggressions. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

To my dear darling baby. Author: Anonymous Baby Name: Baby Zepeda Birth Date: May 2011 Abortion Date: October 2010 The pain sometimes is so hard to bear, even after 11 years. I regretted it all the moment I woke up from the procedure. I screamed, “My baby!”. I’m so sorry I was weak and insecure. Your dad didn’t want to keep you because we were barely making it and didn’t want to give you a bad life. I was scared, no one would love me like your dad and he would leave me if I kept you. How wrong we were. He wouldn’t have left me. He would have loved you so much. Baby, you are missed every second of my life. Both your dad and I regret our decision. He also hurts for you too even tho he doesn’t show it. You have 2 sisters and 1 brother. I can’t wait to hug you and hold and kiss you in heaven. Oh my baby. How could I have been so stupid and weak. I know you are with God, Jesus y tu bisabuela y tus tios! I love you with all my being and hope you can forgive me. Your passing lead me to God. The only positive. I love you! Posted: Jul 6, 2022

Here are the common factors that can cause fqtigue and lethargy: Physical exertion. Prolonged or excessive physical activity can lead to fqtigue as the body’s energy reserves become depleted and muscles become fatigued. Sleep deprivation. Lack of sufficient sleep or poor sleep quality can result in fatigue, as the bødy and brain do not have adequate time to rest and rejuvenate. Medical conditions. Various medical conditions such as anemia, thyroid disorders, chronic paın, and infections can contribute to fqtigue by affecting the body’s physiological processes and energy production. Medications. Certain medications, such as those used for paın management, sedatives, and some antidepressants, may have fqtigue as a side effect. The client’s cognitive impairment, characterized by difficulty focusing, maintaining attention, and processing information, can significantly impact their task performance and decision-making abilities. The client may display increased irritability, mood swings, or emotional instability. These emotional changes can be a result of the phүsical and mental strain associated with fqtigue. Fqtigue can lower the client’s ability to cope with and manage stressors, making them more susceptible to feeling overwhelmed or emotionally drained.

hurt/comfort (fandom slang) A genre of fan fiction in which a character receives comfort from another after or while suffering injury, illness, or a traumatic experience. H/C stories appeal to readers in different ways. While genres for these stories range from drama to mystery, many stories are classified by their authors as romances or as “hurt/comfort” stories. Hurt/comfort is a fanwork genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. A great trope if you want to bring two characters closer together, or if you want to show how deep their relationship goes.

Sleepıng on your side or back will help alleviate neck paın, according to Harvard Health. If you're on your back, you'll want a rounded pillow under your neck for support. If you're on your side, you'll also want a pillow directly under your neck for support so your spine stays neutral. There are a couple of sleeping options if you have ear paın. The Cleveland Clinic advises you to sleep on the opposite side of the ear giving you trouble. You also want to sleep slightly elevated so that you're taking off any of the pressure from your inner ear. If you have a cøld or the flu, try sleeping on your back but with your head propped up. This can help keep your sinuses from becoming more congested than they probably are and can help you rest easier. According to Keck Medicine of USC, the best sleeping position for lower back paın is to lie on your back so your spine stays neutral. For lower back paın specifically, it can also help to use a pillow under your knees so that your legs aren't pulling on your spine. For those who wake up in the morning with hip paın or who find their hip paın exacerbated by the way they're sleepıng, try sleepıng on your back. You can also sleep on the opposite side of the hip that's giving you trouble, the Center for Spine and Orthopedics suggests. You should also put a pillow between your knees to take some pressure off your joints. Back sleepıng and side sleepıng can both help with knee paın, though back sleepıng is generally more recommended. If you're sleepıng on your back, the Arthritis Foundation recommends placing pillows under your knees to take any pressure off. If you choose to sleep on your side, place a pillow between your knees. Sleepıng on your back can help with perıods paın. This position, especially with a pillow under your knees, takes the pressure off your stomach and organs, as well as your back — all of which can help ease cramping.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS x (Autistic Author) Karen's heart squeezes as she sees the vulnerability in her husband. She reaches out and takes Plankton's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We're all learning here," she says. "And we'll keep figuring it out together." Then, Chip speaks up again, his voice a little stronger. "Daddy," he says, "I still want to show you affection." Plankton looks up, his antennae twitching with a hint of sadness. "I know, buddy," he says. "And I appreciate that. But sometimes, my brain needs a different kind of love." Chip frowns. "But I don't know how," he says. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he thinks. "How about this?" he suggests, his eye brightening slightly. "You can make me a 'love rock'." Chip's eyes light up with excitement, and Karen nods encouragingly. "You can pick out a rock from the beach or the yard, and every time you feel like giving me a hug but know I might not be able to handle it, you can give me the rock instead. That way, I'll always know you're thinking of me." Chip nods eagerly, already imagining the perfect rock in his mind. "I'll find the biggest, smoothest rock," he says, his eyes shining with purpose. Plankton's antennae rise slightly, and he manages a smile. "That's my boy," he says, his voice a little less strained. “I’ll go look in our backyard right now,” Chip says as he does so. Karen watches him run off and looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with emotion. "You ok?" she asks, squeezing his hand. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "I think so," he murmurs. "Thank you, Karen." Karen squeezes his hand in return, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're doing great," she whispers. As Chip rummages outside, the sound of his little feet pattering on the ground, Karen and Plankton sit in the quiet kitchen, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but there's a newfound openness in his gaze. "Do you think he'll understand?" Plankton asks, his voice still raw from the previous night's emotions. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes filled with warmth. "He's a smart kid," she reassures him. "And he loves you. He'll get it." They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of Chip's exploration. Then, Plankton speaks up, his voice tentative. "What if I have another meltdown?" he asks. Karen squeezes his hand, her gaze unwavering. "We'll be there for you," she says. "We'll help you through it." The sound of the back door opening and closing echoes through the house, and Chip returns, holding a rock that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. It's smooth, with a slight shimmer in the light. "Here it is!" he exclaims, holding it out to Plankton. "It's your love rock!" Plankton's antennae lift, and a genuine smile spreads across his face as he takes the rock. "It's perfect," he says, his voice filled with emotion. He can feel the warmth from Chip's hand still lingering on the stone. "Thank you, buddy." Chip beams, his earlier fears forgotten in the excitement of the moment. "Can we go to the park now?" he asks, hopeful. Karen looks at Plankton, who nods wearily. "Sure," she says, pushing her chair back. "But let's take it slow, okay?" The park is a familiar place, filled with the sounds of children's laughter and the distant hum of the city. As they walk, Chip chats away, his voice a balm to Plankton's nerves. Karen notices the subtle changes in her husband's gait, the way his antennae twitch with every new sound or sight. She knows he's trying hard to stay present, to not get overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught of the outside world. When they reach the playground, Chip runs off to the swings, his love rock clutched tightly in his hand. Plankton watches him, his gaze a mix of pride and concern. He knows his son's energy can be too much for him sometimes, but he doesn't want to miss out on these moments. Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae wiggling as he gathers his courage. He approaches the swing set, his eye scanning the area for any potential triggers. The chains of the swings glint in the sun, and he can almost feel the sway of the seat beneath him. He hasn't swung in years, not since before Chip was born. Plankton sits on the swing by Chip. The metal is cold and hard beneath him, but as he starts to push off with his foot, the chains begin to squeak a comforting rhythm. The motion is familiar, almost soothing, reminding him of a time when the world was simpler, less stormy. He watches Chip, his heart swelling with love as his son's laughter fills the air. As they swing side by side, Plankton's antennae twitch with every movement of the breeze, every giggle that escapes Chip. The wind rushes through the playground, and he feels the rock in his pocket, a reminder of their newfound understanding. The rhythmic motion of the swing starts to work its magic, and Plankton's beginning to relax. The gentle sway feels like a lullaby for his overstimulated brain. Plankton smiles, his antennae waving in a way that says everything is ok. They swing in silence for a while, the steady back and forth a comforting metronome to the chaotic symphony of the playground around them. Plankton can feel the tension in his body slowly uncoiling, the squeak of the chains becoming a familiar melody that soothes his frazzled nerves.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vi (Autistic Author) "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Let's take a breathe." He glares, his antennae vibrating with agitation. But he does as she says, taking a deep, shaky breath. Chip watches him, eyes wide and full of tears. "Chip," Karen says, her voice calm. "Why don't you go to your room and play for a bit?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. He slips off the couch, clutching the rock to his chest. But doing so, Chip accidentally touches Plankton when he passes, and Plankton yelps in alarm when Chip brushes his shoulder. "Sorry," Chip whispers. Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting straight up as he jolts back from the contact. "I told you, no touching!" he snaps, his voice a thunderclap in the tense silence. Chip's eyes widen with fear and confusion, his lip quivering as he backs away, holding the rock protectively. "I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae wiggle in an exaggerated fashion, his eye rolling dramatically. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says in a high-pitched mockery of Chip's voice. "I didn't mean to touch you and make everything about me." Karen's face falls, and she knows they've taken a step backward. But she also sees the hurt in Plankton's eye, the pain that he's trying to hide with anger. "Dad," Chip says, quivering. "That's not fair, I..." But Plankton doesn't let him finish. "You know what's not fair?" Plankton spits, his antennae whipping back and forth in fury. "Is having a son who thinks he knows everything about me!" Chip's eyes fill with tears as he stumbles back, clutching the rock tighter. "I just wanted to help," he whispers, his voice breaking. Plankton's in a sarcastic imitation of Chip's movements. "Oh, the great helper," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can just fix me with your questions and your pity?" Chip's eyes fill with hurt as he watches his father mock his innocent concern. Karen feels a mix of anger and sadness, but she knows she must tread carefully. "Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaking as he puts the rock down, "I'm sorry if I made you mad." But Plankton isn't listening. He picks up the rock and with a sudden, violent movement, he throws it against the wall. It shatters into a hundred pieces, the sound echoing through the room. "Son, I’m sorry if I made you mad!” Plankton's sarcastic tone cuts through the silence like a knife, his antennae flailing wildly. Chip flinches at the sudden outburst, his eyes wide with shock. "That's what you want, right?" Plankton continues, his voice rising. "To fix everything? Sorry doesn't cut it," Plankton snaps, his antennae trembling with rage. "No, Dad," Chip says, his voice barely audible, "I just wanted to understand." But Plankton isn't done. "Oh, I'm sorry, little genius," Plankton says, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Is that what you want to hear?" Chip stares at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "No," he whispers. "I just want you to be okay, I love you!" But Plankton's anger is a living, breathing thing, swirling around him like a storm. "Love isn't enough, Chip!" Plankton yells, his antennae quivering with rage. "You can't just love away my problems! You don't get to decide that for me!" Karen's heart is in her throat, but she forces herself to speak calmly. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice shaking. "You're scaring him." Chip nods. “I just…” But Plankton's fury is unrelenting. "You think a simple game of 'I love you' is going to make everything okay?" Plankton interrupts, his voice a roar that shakes the walls of their tiny underwater home. Chip's eyes fill with confusion, and he takes a step backward, trembling. "But, Dad," he whispers. "But nothing!" Plankton's antennae whip around, and he stands, his whole body vibrating with anger. "You think you can fix me? You think you can just love me and everything will be fine?" Karen tries to interject, but Plankton's rage is like a tidal wave, crashing over everything in its path. "You think you gotta have the last word just to show how great and special you are Chip. But in the real world No means No so BACK OFF." Chip's eyes widen, and he stumbles backward, the shattered rock on the floor a stark reminder of Plankton's outburst. "Daddy," he whispers, his voice trembling. Plankton's antennae only stiffen further. "I'm sorry, Chip," Karen says, her voice a thread of calm in the storm. "Let's go to your room, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton, who's still standing with his antennae flailing. Karen can see the hurt in her son's gaze, and it breaks her heart. She helps him off the couch, and together, they navigate the shards of rock on the floor. As they leave the room, Karen casts a sorrowful glance at Plankton, who's now slumped into the couch, his antennae drooping. The anger seems to have drained out of him, leaving behind a tired, defeated creature. In Chip's room, Karen helps her son sit on the bed, the soft glow from the glowfish lamp casting a warm light on his tear-stained face. She sits beside him, her hand gently rubbing his back in comforting circles. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie," she whispers. "Daddy just has a hard time with his feelings." Chip's eyes are glued to the floor, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. "But why?" he asks, his voice cracking. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Sometimes, when people are upset or scared, they don't know how to show it," she says gently. "Daddy's just trying to deal with his own stuff, and it can be hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on the floor. "But why does he have to get so mad?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's not that he's mad at you," she says softly. "It's just that he doesn't know how to express himself without getting upset." "But why?" Chip asks, his voice muffled by the pillow he's buried his face in. Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes misting over. "Daddy's brain works differently, Chip," she says, her voice cracking. "Sometimes, when we're sad or scared, we get mad instead." Chip lifts his head, his eyes red and wet. "But why doesn't he just tell me he loves me?" he asks, his voice a broken whisper. Karen sighs, sad but understanding. "Some people show love in different ways," she says. "Daddy might not say it out loud, but he does it every day. Like when he takes you on adventures or when he makes you laugh." "But why can't he just say it?" he asks. Karen's throat tightens. "Sometimes, it's hard for Daddy to say the words," she explains gently. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it." Chip sniffles, his eyes never leaving hers. "But why can't he just tell me?" Karen sighs, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's complicated," she says. "Daddy's brain is like a treasure chest with lots of locks. Some days, the right words just can't find the key." Chip looks at her, his eyes searching for a simple truth amidst the complexity. "But I want him to feel happy with me," he murmurs. Karen nods, her voice soft. "And he is, sweetie," she says. "Just in his own way." They sit in silence for a moment. Then Karen stands, her movements slow and deliberate. "Let's leave Daddy alone for now," she suggests. "He needs some space to sort through his feelings." Chip nods, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. Together, they leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. As they walk down the corridor, Karen's thoughts are a tumult of emotions. She's angry at Plankton for his outburst, but she also understands his pain. He's been dealing with his condition alone for so long, and now he's forced to confront it with their son's innocent curiosity. They enter the living room, and she can see Plankton sitting on the couch, his antennae drooping. He looks up as they come in, his expression a mix of guilt and defiance. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "Why don't we watch a movie?" she suggests, her voice gentle. "Something to help us relax?" Chip nods, still sniffling, and Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. It's a small victory, but it's something. They settle on the couch, Chip curled up in the middle with a blanket. Karen chooses a movie they've watched together before, a silent gesture of comfort and familiarity. Plankton's eye is on the screen, but his antennae are still twitching with leftover anger.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi (Autistic Author) The wind whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, but one that Plankton has often missed in his quest to protect his son from the storms in his own mind. Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a ball comes hurtling through the air, narrowly missing Plankton's head. He flinches, his antennae shooting straight up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The children playing nearby laugh, unaware of the chaos their game has brought to the quiet corner of the playground. Plankton's eye darts around, trying to process the sudden assault of sound and movement. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can see the beginnings of a panic attack forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip shouts, jumping off his swing and racing to his side. With surprising speed and grace, Chip leaps into action, catching Plankton just as he starts to topple off the swing. "Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with urgency as he gently guides Plankton's unresponsive body to the soft grass below. The love rock still clutches in his small hand. Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling beside them. Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "What do we do?" Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and love as she takes in the sight of Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, his antennae limp. She's been here before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," she says, her voice calm despite her racing heart. "Just give him a moment. He'll come back to us." Chip nods, his grip on the love rock tightening as he watches his father. The world seems to slow down around them, the laughter of the other children fading into a distant memory. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The seconds tick by like hours, each one filled with the weight of uncertainty. Chip clutches the love rock, willing his dad to come back. He's seen this before, but it never gets easier. He remembers the first time it happened, the fear that had gripped him, the feeling of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed over. But now, he knows what to do. He's not as scared; he's prepared. With trembling hands, Chip takes out the love rock, its smoothness a comforting reminder of their conversation. He places it gently in Plankton's palm, curling the slender fingers around it. "You're ok," he whispers, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "We’re here." Plankton's body remains still, a stark contrast to the vibrant world around them. The squeaks of the swings, the laughter of the children, the distant crash of waves, all seem to fade into the background as they wait for him to return from his brief retreat. Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Time seems to stand still as they wait, the rock in Plankton's hand a silent testament to their newfound bond. The park's vibrant sounds muffle into a distant symphony, the world holding its breath for Plankton's return. Above them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, the shadows dancing as if in a silent ballet of concern. The seconds stretch into eternity, each one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes never leave his father, willing him back with all his might. The rock in Plankton's palm is a symbol of love and understanding, a bridge connecting them through the stormy seas of his mind. As Plankton's body remains frozen, the world around them seems to hold its breath. The rustling of the leaves above, the distant laughter of children, even the crash of waves in the background seem to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the universe itself is offering a quiet sanctuary for Plankton's return. Chip's eyes never leave his father's face, his grip on the love rock in Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart races with fear, but he squeezes the rock tighter, trying to channel the love and support he feels into his dad's unresponsive hand. Chip decides to whisper comforting words. "Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're safe here with me and Mom." Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and admiration for her son's courage. She watches as Chip decides to continue. "Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip whispers. "It's my way of saying I love you." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a glimmer of recognition in his eye. The world around them seems to hold its breath, the very air thick with anticipation. Chip's voice is the only sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony of the playground. The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches as Plankton's antennae slowly start to wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice barely audible. "I'll always be here." Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her eyes glistening with tears she's trying hard to hold back. The sight of her son's unwavering support is both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Plankton's chest rises and falls more steadily, his breathing evening out. The rock in Plankton's hand seems to pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen sees the tension in Plankton's features begin to ease, his antennae drooping slightly as he starts to come back to them. It's a delicate process, like waking a sleeping dragon. Any sudden movement could send him back into the storm. Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding Plankton through the fog. "It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's antennae twitch again, and Karen can see the spark of understanding in his eye. Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. The tension in his shoulders eases, and his antennae twitch in a way that tells Karen he's listening, that he's with them again. His breathing evens out, and his eyelid flickers closed. For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, Plankton's hand tightens slightly around the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s asleep," she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of humor and love. Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like that for a while, the three of them, in the quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The storm in Plankton's mind has passed, leaving them in a gentle lull. The playground's sounds slowly start to filter back in, the chatter of children, the distant hum of the city, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps whispering, his voice a gentle caress in the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're safe." Karen watches her son with a mix of love and sadness, knowing the weight he now carries. He's growing up too fast, she thinks, but he's handling it with more grace than anyone could ask for. Plankton's hand relaxes around the rock, his breathing deep and even. The storm inside him has passed for now, leaving them with a quiet, precious moment. Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?" Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," she says. "Rest is sometimes the best thing for him after an episode." Chip nods, his grip on the rock in Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He looks around the park, the world coming back into focus. The other kids are playing, their laughter a gentle reminder of the life that goes on outside their little bubble of concern. "Should we go home?" Chip asks, his voice still hushed. Karen nods. "Let's get him into the shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him good." Together, they gently lift Plankton and carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip is careful not to jostle him too much, his little hands supporting Plankton's head. Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on the ground and they place him down. His antennae are still now, no longer dancing with the stress of the seizure. His breath is deep and even, his features relaxed in sleep. Chip watches him intently, his thumb tracing the smooth surface of the love rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xii (Autistic Author) The tree above them provides a gentle canopy, casting dappled shadows on Plankton's sleeping form. The leaves rustle in the breeze, creating a natural lullaby that soothes not only him but Chip and Karen as well. The world outside the shade seems to melt away, leaving them in a quiet cocoon of peace. Karen watches her son with a mix of admiration and sadness. He's growing up so fast, she thinks, having to learn about things most kids his age don't have to. But Chip's strength is undeniable, and she knows that together, they'll navigate the storms that come with Plankton's condition. The park's cacophony slowly starts to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of Plankton's deep, even breathing. Chip sits next to him, the love rock still in his hand, his thumb tracing the smooth surface. The shadows from the tree above dance across their faces, creating a mesmerizing pattern of light and dark that seems to mirror the complexities of their lives. Karen pulls out a small blanket from their bag and covers Plankton gently, tucking it around his small body. She looks at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and sadness. "Why don't you sit with him for a bit?" she suggests. "I'll grab the car." Chip nods solemnly, taking a seat beside his father. He places the love rock in Plankton's palm, curling his slender fingers around it. The park's sounds seem to fade away as he focuses on Plankton's peaceful face, the only indication of life the steady rise and fall of his chest. Chip's eyes drift over to the swings, now silent, the chains still swaying slightly from their earlier use. While Karen walks to get the car, Chip sits in quiet contemplation, feeling the weight of their conversation from the night before. He's learned so much about his dad, about the storms in his brain that make him different. But instead of fear, Chip feels a newfound respect and love, a bond stronger than any storm could break. Plankton's eye flutter open, the sleepy confusion fading as he sees Chip sitting beside him, the love rock still clutched in his hand. He looks around, the park coming back into focus. His antennae twitch slightly, searching for the source of comfort. "Hey, buddy," Plankton says, his voice groggy. "What happened?" Chip's eyes light up, his grip on the rock tightening. "You had a seizure," he explains, his voice steady. "But you're ok now. We're just waiting for Mom to bring the car." Plankton nods, his gaze drifting to the rock. He opens his palm, revealing the smooth, shimmering stone. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Chip looks up, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It's our love rock," he says simply, his voice filled with the weight of their new understanding. Plankton's antennae twitch, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I remember," he says, his voice a little stronger. "It's a good rock." The two sit in companionable silence, the rock a tangible symbol of their bond. The park's sounds slowly filter back in, the laughter of children, the squeak of the swings, the distant bark of a seagull. Life goes on around them, but in this moment, their world is small and focused. As Karen pulls up with the car, she sees them sitting under the tree, the love rock in Plankton's hand. She parks and walks over, her eyes filled with concern. "Ready to go home?" she asks gently. Plankton nods, his antennae rising slightly. "Yeah," he says, his voice still shaky. "Let's go." They carefully help him into the car, the love rock still nestled in his hand. The drive home is quiet, the weight of the day's events hanging heavy in the air. Chip watches his dad, his heart aching for the silent struggle he knows he's facing. As they pull into the driveway, Karen looks back in the rearview mirror. "Remember, Chip," she says, her eyes meeting her son's in the reflection, "today was a learning experience. We all need to be patient with each other." Chip nods solemnly, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. He sees the exhaustion etched into his father's features, the quiet strength that hides beneath the storm. "I know," he whispers, his voice filled with understanding beyond his years. The house is a welcome retreat from the overwhelming sensory assault of the park. Inside, everything is familiar and comforting, a bastion of predictability in a world that often seems too loud and too bright for Plankton. Karen helps Plankton into bed, tucking him in with the care of a lighthouse keeper guiding a ship to safety. Chip sits on the edge of the bed, holding the love rock out to Plankton. "Do you still want this?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton's hand reaches out, his eyes never leaving the rock. He takes it, his grip firm. "Yeah," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It's comforting." Karen gives them both a soft smile before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her. The room is filled with the hum of the fish tank, the calming blue light casting a soothing glow. Chip sits with his father, the love rock nestled in Plankton's hand, a silent sentinel of their bond. For a moment, they just breathe together. Then, Chip decides to speak. "Daddy," he says, his voice gentle and soothing, "I'm here for you. No matter what happens, ok?" Plankton's eye flicker with understanding, and he squeezes the rock in his hand. "Thank you, Chip," he murmurs, his voice filled with more emotion than Chip has ever heard from him. "I'm lucky to have you." The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, as Chip nods, his own eyes brimming with tears. He leans in to offer Plankton his hand to hold. Plankton takes it, his grip firm, his eye searching Chip's for reassurance. The love rock remains a silent witness to their conversation, a physical representation of the unspoken affection that flows between them. Slowly, Plankton's eye grow heavy, the lid drooping as sleep claims him once more. His hand relaxes around Chip's, the rock still cradled in his other palm. Chip watches his father's chest rise and fall with each deep, even breath, the storm of the day finally abating. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens, a glimmer of understanding piercing the tempest. His antennae still, his body going rigid with the effort of speaking. He draws in a deep breath, his eye locking onto Chip's and also Karen’s, the love rock a bridge between them. "Lo..." he manages to murmur, the word a tremor in the quiet room. Karen's eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat. "Lo..." he tries again, the syllable a whisper of hope. The room feels like it's expanding, the walls stretching with the weight of his effort. "Lo...ve," he finally says, the word a shaky but clear declaration. The air shimmers with the power of the spoken word, the love rock in Chip's hand feeling like it's vibrating with joy. Karen's eyes overflow with tears as she squeezes Plankton's hand, her voice choking with emotion. "Oh, honey," she says, her voice a gentle caress, "we know." Chip's own eyes sparkle with unshed tears, his voice trembling as he speaks. "We love you too, Daddy." "Lo...love," he manages to repeat, the word a treasure pulled from the depths of his mind. Chip feels a tear slide down his cheek, the love rock in his hand a warm emblem of victory. "You don't have to say it, Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaky but earnest. "We know." But Plankton's eye determined, the word 'love' a beacon he needs to reach. With a Herculean effort, he whispers, "Chip...Karen...love...you." The room is suffused with a warmth that feels like a sunrise, the shadows retreating to the corners. Karen stands with love for her family. She knows that this is just the beginning of their journey, that there will be more storms to weather. But with Chip by his side, she feels a glimmer of hope that Plankton's world will be a little less overwhelming.

GREAT CHIP ix (Autistic author) Chip took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I know I can't fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving, his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you can support me. You can be there without trying to change me." Chip nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say. "But I want to understand. I want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?" he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds fun, right?" Chip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite the tension, which only adds to Plankton's anger. "Well, when you put it that way..." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye squinting at his son's response. "What?" he barked, his voice sharp. Chip tried to hold onto his smile, his heart racing. "I mean, if it's like a pinball machine, I can learn the patterns," he said, his tone carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video games, so..." Plankton's antennae waved wildly, his eye flashing with anger. "You think this is a game?" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "You think I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!" Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide with shock at his father's outburst. He took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I just..." "You just what?" Plankton spat, his small body vibrating with rage. "You just don't get it! You can't get it! You're not autistic, you don't know what it's like to have your brain turn on you like that!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at the accusation. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying." Plankton's antennae quivered with the force of his rage. "You don't know," he said, his voice cold. "You can't know. All I see is a little child playing pretend, thinking he can understand what I go through! And yet you're the one asking for help! Face it, you're never going to get it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!" Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting like a sledgehammer. He had never seen his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae stopped their wild movements, his eye focusing on his son with a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to help by poking fun at my condition?" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Plankton's antennae waved, his eye still cold and distant. "Don't," he said, his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten it. And don't you DARE make fun of it." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his heart aching with the weight of his father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I di-" "You're sorry?" Plankton's voice was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing their plates to rattle. "You think an apology is enough when you belittle what I go through?" Chip's eyes widened with fear as his dad's anger grew. He'd never seen Plankton like this before, his tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae thrashing like live wires. The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in. "Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean it that way." But Plankton was beyond listening, his tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!" Chip took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-" he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop. "You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted, his antennae a blur of motion. "You think it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew louder, his words sharper. "You think it's easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?" Chip's eyes filled with tears as his father's anger grew, his voice crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make light of his dad's condition, but now it seemed as if he'd made everything worse. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands shaking. Plankton's antennae whipped around his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't make it go away!" he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You think you can make it better with a laugh?" He slammed his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot. "It's not a joke, Chip!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched his father's outburst, his heart pounding. He had never seen Plankton like this, his anger a living, breathing thing that filled the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But I want to help." Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want to help? Then stop making it about you!" Chip's eyes grew wide with fear as he watched his father's anger boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please," he whispered, his heart racing. Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body vibrating with uncontrollable rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the coffee mug from the table, flinging it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere, puncturing the silence like shrapnel. "Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He had never seen Plankton this out of control. And Karen knew she had to act fast. Her voice was calm but firm as she approached Plankton. "Sweetie, it's okay," she said, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Let's go to your workshop. You know that's your safe space." Plankton's antennae thrashed, his eye darting around the room, seeking anything to target his anger. "I don't want to go anywhere!" he roared, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "It's not okay!" Karen stepped closer, her voice steady. "It's okay to be upset," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "But Chip..." But Plankton's rage was unstoppable. He lunged for the nearest object, a framed photo of Chip, his grip tightening as he raised it over his head, ready to smash it against the floor. Karen's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Plankton, no," she pleaded, her voice steady. "Please, don't." But Plankton's rage had taken over, his body moving on autopilot as he swung the photo frame with all his might. It crashed to the floor, the shattering glass echoing in the small room. Chip's eyes grew round with shock, his body frozen in place as he watched his father's tantrum unfold. "Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!" But Plankton's rage was a runaway train, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his anger. He stomped over to the counter, grabbing a plate and flinging it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen stepped in front of Chip, placing herself between him and the storm of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly, her voice a calm oasis in the chaos. "You're scaring him." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Karen with a mix of anger and confusion. For a moment, his body seemed to pause, his arm still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it, the soft fabric landing limply on the floor. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, seeing the turmoil behind the rage. "Please, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's talk about this." But Plankton's anger was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He picked up another mug, his arm winding up to throw it, when Chip suddenly stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father's. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't." Plankton's antennae paused, his arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled, his eye wild with anger. "You think you can just tell me what to do?" And then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction, Plankton hurled the mug in front of Chip, purposefully missing him. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mug spun through the air, the shattering of porcelain on the tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not about control. It's about us. Our fam..." But Plankton was beyond words, his rage a living entity that consumed him. He grabbed a toaster, his grip white-knuckled, and hurled it at the fridge, the metallic clang a cacophony in the small kitchen. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

GREAT CHIP xi (Autistic author) After a moment, she turned and walked towards the workshop door, her steps slow and deliberate. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check on your father," she said, her voice a whisper. "You... you clean up here." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his mother's. He knew she was hurting too, but she was putting on a brave face for him. As she disappeared into the workshop, his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never seen his parents like this before. The kitchen was a mess of shattered dishes and splattered jelly, a stark contrast to the usually pristine space. He took a deep breath and began to collect the broken pieces, his mind racing with thoughts of his father's pain. Karen's footsteps were quiet as she approached the workshop, the door slightly ajar. She could hear Plankton's muffled sobs from inside, his tiny body hunched over his workbench. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she might find. The room was a whirlwind of half-finished inventions, wires and gadgets scattered about. Her heart broke at the sight of her husband, the usually stoic and resourceful Plankton, reduced to a tiny, shaking figure, his antennae drooped like the wilted leaves of a forgotten houseplant. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft whisper, cutting through the quiet. He didn't look up, his sobs the only sound in the cluttered room. Slowly, she approached, her eyes taking in the chaos around them. "Honey," she began, her voice trembling. "I know you're upset, but..." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Karen reached out, her hand hovering over his shoulder, uncertain whether to touch him. Finally, she decided that in this moment, space was what he needed most. She stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence a gentle reminder that she was there for him. "Plankton," she said softly, her voice a balm in the storm of his rage. "Can I get you anything?" Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his tiny frame heaving with the weight of his emotions. "No," he said, his voice muffled. Karen took a step closer, her hand still hovering. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her tone gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his head nodding slightly. It was the barest of movements, but it spoke volumes to Karen. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to press too hard. He stiffened at first, but then, ever so slightly, leaned into her. Her embrace was gentle, her touch like a soft breeze, offering comfort without smothering his pain. "I always love you." The words hung in the air, their quiet strength a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton felt his body begin to relax, his sobs easing as Karen's warmth seeped in. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I don't know..." Karen's grip tightened, her hand sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby. Plankton's antennae twitched nervously against her, but he didn't pull away. He knew she was there for him, even when his own mind was a tempest of confusion. "You don't have to apologize," Karen whispered. Her words were a balm to Plankton's raw nerves, and he leaned into her embrace. She knew he was sensitive post-episode, his emotions like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Her heart ached for him, for the fear and frustration he felt in those moments. Karen's eyes scanned the room, noticing the chaos of Plankton's workshop, his mind's refuge. Usually, the disarray was organized, each gear and wire in its place. Now, it was as though a tornado had swept through, leaving a trail of half-finished inventions in its wake. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body still tense under her touch. "I just... I don't want you to look at me and see something broken and unlovable.." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "You are you, and that is all I've ever loved." The words hung in the air, a gentle rebuttal to the harshness of the earlier scene. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his breathing evening out. Chip hovered at the entrance, his heart a tumultuous sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt his father, and he didn't know how to fix it. He took a tentative step into the workshop, his eyes scanning the room. The mess was a stark reminder of the turmoil Plankton was feeling, and it only served to amplify Chip's own guilt. He watched his mother's careful movements, her gentle touch, and he desperately wanted to do the same.

https://www.verywellhealth.com/why-we-drool-in-our-sleep-3015103