NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON i
(Autistic author)
Karen stood, watching
from a distance
her husband Plankton,
whose passion for
inventing often
overshadowed his love
for the simple things
in life, was deeply
engrossed in his
latest project.
He was a man of
small stature but
enormous ideas, and
his tiny fingers
moved with a grace
and precision that
belied their size. and
Karen knew better than to
disturb him when he
was in the throes
of creation.
Suddenly, with a
deafening crash,
the machine toppled
over. It hit Plankton's
head with a sickening
thud. He crumpled
to the floor,
his eye rolling
back in the
socket before
closing, and
his body went
still.
Panic flooded
Karen as
she sprinted to his
side. "Plankton!" she
shouted, her voice
bouncing off the
metal walls of
their underwater
laboratory.
Gently, she nudged
him, but he remained
unresponsive.
"Wake up," she
whispered, tears
forming in the
corners of her
eyes, her voice
barely audible above
the echoes of the
metal chamber.
Her gentle shakes
turned to frantic
pats.
"Wake up, Plankton,
please," she
pleaded.
She knew basic
first aid, but nothing
for something like
this—whatever "this"
was.
"You can't do this to me,"
she murmured,
desperation seeping into
her voice.
She searched
his lifeless form for
any sign of movement.
His chest was rising,
as she found a pulse.
He was alive, but
barely.
Her fear grew
with every second
that ticked away
without his
eye opening.
The hospital was
their only hope.
She scooped him
up in her arms and
raced through the
corridors of their
underwater abode.
The bubble-mobile
was docked outside,
a sleek contraption
that Plankton had
designed himself. She
placed him gently inside,
his head lolling
back against the
seat.
Her trembling
hands gripped the
wheel, and with a
quick glance at
his still face, she
revved the engine.
The bubble-mobile shot
forward, leaving a trail
of bubbles in its
wake. The journey to
the Bikini Bottom Hospital
was fraught with tension,
each second feeling
like an eternity.
The neon lights of
Bikini Bottom blurred
together in her
tears, creating a
disorienting mosaic
of color and light.
Her eyes darted
between the
road and Plankton,
his chest rising
and falling with
breaths.
Parking the bubble-mobile
in the hospital's emergency
dock, Karen leapt out,
carrying Plankton with a
strength born of
desperation.
The doors of the hospital
slammed open as she
burst through, the sound
reverberating through the
calm aquatic corridors.
The medical staff,
accustomed to the occasional
drama of Bikini Bottom,
quickly surrounded
them, a flurry of
fins and hands reaching
to assist.
"Dr. Kelp," Karen
gasped, "my husband—he's
been hurt."
The doctor's eyes
widened with
concern as he
quickly assessed
Plankton's condition.
"Bring him in
immediately," he
ordered, his voice
sharp and urgent.
Karen felt a
wave of relief
wash over her
as the hospital staff
took over,
whisking Plankton
away on a stretcher.
Her legs wobbled
as she followed
them into the brightly
lit emergency room,
her heart racing in
her chest.
Dr. Kelp, a
squid with a calm
and reassuring
demeanor,
instructed the
nurses to prepare
for a potential
concussion.
Karen hovered
nervously, watching
them work with
efficient precision.
After a tense
moment of
silence, the
machine beeped
and the doctor's
face fell.
They had found
something more
serious than any
concussion.
The brain scan
revealed that
Plankton had
suffered severe
damage to his
brain —a rare
but well-documented
condition called
"Acquired Autism
Spectrum Disorder."
The news hit Karen
like a ton of bricks.
Her mind raced with
questions and
worries as she
tried to process
what this meant
for their future.
Acquired Autism
Spectrum Disorder—
a condition she had
only ever heard
about in whispers.
The doctor
explained that
it was rare, but
not unheard of, and that
it could change
Plankton's behavior,
his ability to
interact with
others, and even
his cognitive functions.
Karen felt a
swirl of emotions—
fear, anger, and a
deep, gnawing sadness.
Her mind was
a tumultuous storm
of what-ifs and
worst-case scenarios.
"What caused this?"
she demanded, her
voice shaking with
desperation.
"It appears to be
a result of the
trauma from the
fall," Dr. Kelp
replied solemnly,
his tentacles
waving to illustrate
his explanation.
"The brain can be
a delicate organ,
even for someone
as resilient as
your husband."
Karen's eyes
narrowed as she
focused on the
term 'Acquired Autism
Spectrum Disorder'.
The doctor elaborated.
"The corpus callosum,
a bridge of nerve
fibers connecting
the two hemispheres
of the brain, had
suffered significant
damage. His prefrontal
cortex (PFC) circuits are
now compromised,
and his cerebellum's
tissue has been
affected, too. Also
it's irreversible with
no cure; he'll have it
for as long as he lives.
What you can do is
make sure he's happy
and be mindful of any
new behaviors, providing
your love and support."
Karen felt a
wave of anger
toward the invention
that had taken
his attention so
completely.
Why did he have to
push so hard?
Why couldn't he just
enjoy their life
together without
always striving for
more?
But anger quickly
gave way to
determination.
They would face this
together, just as they
had faced every
challenge that had
been thrown at
them.
"We'll let you both stay
here together overnight.
But yes, autism can vary
widely. You'll need to be
prepared for anything,"
Dr. Kelp said gently.
The hospital room
was cold and sterile,
the only sound the
steady beep of the
monitor beside Plankton's
bed. Karen pulled a
chair closer, her screen
never leaving her husband's
face as she held his hand.
The sun had barely
risen outside when
his eye fluttered open.
"Plankton," Karen
whispered.
His eye opened
slowly as the
doctor came in,
his tentacles moving
quickly to check
the monitors.
Plankton's gaze
was distant,
unfocused, as he
tried to make sense
of his surroundings.
Karen watched him,
his eye searching
the room with a
childlike curiosity,
his grip on her
hand tightening.
Plankton's gaze
finally fell upon
her, and she
smiled, hoping it
would bring him
comfort.
But his
eyebrow furrowed
as he studied her
intently.
He blinked rapidly,
his mind trying to
make connections
that no longer
existed in the
same way.
"Karen?" he
mumbled, the
word thick and
slurred, as if
his mouth had
forgotten how to
form the syllables.
"You're ok,"
she assured him,
squeezing his hand.
But his confusion
was palpable
as he scanned
the unfamiliar
environment.
"You had an accident,"
she began, her voice
soothing as she
tried to explain
what had happened.
Plankton's eye
widened as he
tried to piece together
the events that had
led them here.
The doctor stepped
forward. "Mr. Plankton,
you've suffered a
traumatic brain
injury. You have a
condition called
Acquired Autism Spectrum
Disorder. It means
your brain works
differently now."
Plankton's eye
blinked slowly, taking
in the doctor's
words.
He tried to sit up,
his body rigid,
but the doctor's firm
touch on his shoulder
kept him in place.
Plankton's eye
landed on Karen,
his grip tightening
around her hand.
He stared at her,
his expression
a mix of fear and
confusion.
"What's happening?"
his voice was a
whisper, his usual
boisterousness muted.
He was trying to
make sense of the
words, to understand
the gravity of his
condition.
"What's happening?"
he asked again,
his voice a little
louder, more
insistent.
Karen tried to
explain. "You've
been hurt, Plankton.
You're different now,
but we're going to
get through this
together."