AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY i
(Autistic author)
Karen's husband, Plankton, was
arguing with Mr. Krabs as usual.
They've had their fair share of
disputes over the years, but this
one seemed to be escalating
fast. Without warning, Mr. Krabs
swung the stove from his kitchen
with all his might. It connected
with a sickening thud against
Plankton's head. Karen gasped
as her husband crumpled to the
ground. Plankton's eye had rolled
back and closed, his body going
still as Mr. Krabs left back.
Karen knelt beside Plankton and
gently tapped his cheek. "Wake up,"
she murmured, voice trembling. No
response. She tried again, her voice
a little louder. "Honey, can you hear
me?" Plankton's eye remained
closed, his antennae limp. Panic
began to creep in.
Her mind raced with
possibilities, each more
frightening than the last. What if
his tiny brain had been damaged?
What if he was in a coma? What
if he never woke up? She cradled
his minuscule form.
The room grew
silent as the gravity of the
situation sank in, willing Plankton
to stir. A tear trickled down her
screen.
Karen felt for a pulse. It was
there, faint but steady. She let
out a sigh of relief and picked
his tiny body up, cradling him
carefully. "I've got to get him to
a doctor," she thought.
She held Plankton's hand as they
performed a brain scan.
Karen sat by her husband's side as the
machines around Plankton beeped and
whirred. The sterile smell of the
hospital filled, and the cold
white walls seemed to press in around
them. Plankton's lying still
on the hospital bed. A thick bandage
was wrapped around his head, and
various tubes connected him to
monitors that displayed a symphony
of lines and numbers, none of which
meant anything to her. She squeezed
his hand gently, willing him to wake
up.
The doctor walked into the room,
his lab coat fluttering slightly as
he moved. He held a clipboard
carefully in his tentacles, studying
the information with a furrowed
brow.
"Mrs. Plankton," he began, his voice
soft, "We've finished scans. The good
news is that it's not life-
threatening. However, we've noticed
some sustained atypical brain activity."
Karen's eyes widened. "What does that
mean?" she asked, her grip on
Plankton's hand tightening.
The doctor sighed, his expression
sympathetic. "Autism. His behavior may
change. He might become more focused
on his routines, have difficulty with
social interactions, and exhibit sensory
sensitivity. It's permanent, and no cure.
We expect him to wake up soon. We'll
ask him some questions to assess and
then you can take him home."
Karen felt her heart drop. She knew
about autism, had read about it in
magazines, but never thought it would
affect her own family. The doctor
left the room, and she was alone with
her thoughts, watching Plankton's chest
rise and fall as they remove the bandage.
The hours ticked by in agonizing
slowness as she sat there, praying
for him to wake up. The only sounds
were the rhythmic beeping of the
monitors and the occasional muffled
conversations from the hallway.
Finally, Plankton's eyelid fluttered.
He groaned softly, and his hand
twitched in hers. Karen leaned in,
hope surging through her. "Plankton?"
she whispered, her voice thick with
emotion as she smiled through her tears.
"I'm here," she said, voice shaky. "You're in
the hospital, but you're ok."
Plankton's eye opened, squinting in the
bright lights. He looked around the room,
confusion etched on his tiny face.
Slowly, his gaze landed on Karen. "What
happened?" he croaked, his voice weak.
"Mr. Krabs hit you with a stove," Karen
explained, her voice a mix of relief
and sadness. "They diagnosed you with
acquired Autism."
The doctor approached with a gentle nod.
"Plankton, can you tell me your name?" he
asked, ready to jot down notes.
Plankton's eye searched the room, finally
settling on Karen. "Sheldon Jay Plankton."
Karen's grip on his hand tightened
offering silent encouragement.
The doctor nodded and proceeded with
questions. "Tell me
when you're born?"
"July 31, 1999 10:16.08 am ET!"
Karen felt a twinge of pride at her
husband's precise answer. The doctor
nodded, scribbling something on his
clipboard. "Tell me more about yourself.."
"More about yourself." Plankton echoed.
The doctor's offering
a gentle smile. "Echolalia. It's a trait
that's common in individuals with
autism. It can help him process
information. Well Plankton has no
need for therapy, yet you may want
to adjust your daily lives to
accommodate. You're free to go!"
The drive back to the Chum Bucket was
silent, the weight of the diagnosis
pressing down on Karen's shoulders. He
was quiet too, his eye fixed on the
passing scenery. He didn't seem to
notice the difference in himself, but
Karen knew their lives were changed.
Once home, Karen helped Plankton into
his favorite chair, surrounded by
his inventions and gadgets. The room
was a mess, but it was his sanctuary,
and she didn't want to disturb it. He
seemed more at ease, his eye
flicking from one object to another
with a sense of familiarity.
Would Plankton be the same? Would he
still laugh at her jokes, or get
angry at the Krabby Patty secret
formula?
Plankton remained silent, his gaze
still locked on his surroundings.
Karen felt a pang of worry. Would
his obsessive nature become more
pronounced?
"It's getting late, Plankton."
Karen's voice was soft as she
guided him to their bedroom. He
followed without protest, his
movements mechanical. She helped
him into bed, pulling the blankets
up to his chin with a gentle
tuck.
Plankton lay there, staring at the
ceiling, his thoughts a swirl of
confusion. "Do you need anything?"
she asked, her voice a gentle hum in
the quiet room.
"Stay, Karen stay." He says.
Karen nodded, taking a seat
on the edge of the bed.
"Of course, I'll stay," she assured him,
trying to keep her voice steady. She took
his hand again, feeling the warmth of
his palm against hers. She didn't know
what the future held, but she knew she'd
be by his side.
As Plankton's breathing evened out into
the rhythm of sleep, Karen sat there,
watching him. She noticed how his grip on
her hand had loosened, but didn't dare
move.
The next day, Karen woke before
Plankton did.
She hovered over him, watching the
steady rise and fall of his chest.
How was she going to wake him up
without startling him?
She knew that sudden noises could be
overwhelming for him now. Karen took
a different approach. She stroked his
arm with a feather-light touch. His eye
brow flinched.
Next, she tried speaking his name,
starting with a whisper and gradually
getting louder. "Plankton," she called,
"It's time to wake up." His eyelid
twitched, and he blinked his eye open.
He looked around. "Karen?" he
asked. She nodded with a
smile.
"Good morning, honey," she said softly.
"How are you feeling?"
Plankton sat up slowly, his antennae
twitching as he took in his surroundings.
"Different," he murmured, rubbing his
temple.
"We're home,
Plankton. Remember what happened?"
He nodded, his eye glazed over
for a moment. "Krabs. The stove."
"Yes, but you're ok now," Karen
reassured, stroking his cheek with
her finger.
Plankton nodded again, his antennae
twitching nervously. Karen noticed that
his movements were more deliberate,
his gaze more intense. She decided to
keep things simple to avoid
overwhelming him with too much
information at once.
"Let's get breakfast," she
suggested. Plankton followed
her into the kitchen, his steps slower
than usual. The clanking of pans and the
sizzle of oil had always been a familiar
symphony in their home, but today it
felt alien, like a disturbance to his
newly heightened senses. Karen moved
around the kitchen with precision,
keeping the noises to a minimum.
As she prepared their meal, Plankton
stood by the counter, his gaze fixed.
"Breakfast is ready," she said, sliding
a plate of chum flapjacks in front of
him. The smell usually brought him
joy, but today it was overwhelming.
Plankton took a step back.
Karen's smile faltered, realizing she
would have to adjust their meals.
"Would you like something else?" she
asked, her voice a soothing melody.
Plankton nodded, his gaze not
leaving the plate. "Different," he
whispered.
Karen knew she had to find
foods that wouldn't overstimulate.
She placed the flapjacks aside
and found a jar of pureed peas and plain
yogurt. She hoped the blandness would
be more soothing.
Plankton's antennae twitched as he
came closer. He stared at the bowl
intently, then took a tentative spoonful.
The texture was soothing, and the color
was calming. He ate slowly, each bite
measured and deliberate.
Karen watched him
with love and concern. She
wanted to ask if he liked it, but she
knew better than to interrupt his focus.
Once Plankton had finished, he looked
up at her with a hint of a smile. "Good,"
he said. It was the closest thing to praise
she had heard from him since the incident.
Karen cleared the table, her mind racing
with questions about what the future held.
How would Plankton's new autism affect
their daily lives?
"Now what would you like
to do, Plankton?" She asks.
He looks at her. "Read."
The old spark seems to flicker back
to life, albeit with a different
intensity. Karen nods, leading him
back to his lab.
The room is a mess of wires and
gadgets, but Plankton moves through
it with purpose. He selects a
book from the shelf, a manual on
quantum physics that had been
collecting dust. His gaze flits
over the pages, absorbing
the information with fervor.
Karen watches him from a distance.
This was her Plankton, but also new. His
obsession with the Krabby Patty
formula had always been intense, but
now his focus was lasered in on
the book, his mind racing through
equations and theories.
The room was silent except for the
soft rustle of pages turning.
Plankton didn't look up from his
book, lost in a world of science and
theories. Karen knew she had to let
him be, to find his new normal.