ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ┃ ┃ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇs, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ
"You okay?" Karen's voice was a
gentle caress in the cold
antiseptic room.
Plankton nodded, his eye tightly
shut. The nurse had told him it
would be quick, that he'd be under
before he knew it, but that didn't
stop his heart from thudding like a
bass drum. He took a deep breath,
trying to ignore the cold hands
fussing over him, the tightening
of the blood pressure cuff around
his arm.
"Count backward from ten," the
anesthesiologist's voice was calm
and steady, as if he did this a
thousand times a day. Plankton
obliged, his voice quivering on
each number. "Ten... nine... eight..."
The world grew fuzzy around the
edges, the cold metal of the bed
beneath him feeling like it was
sinking. "Seven... six... five..." His
body grew heavier, each breath
more difficult to draw in. Karen
squeezed his hand tightly, her eyes
brimming with tears she refused to
let fall. The doctor's face grew
distant, his voice a distant echo.
With a final exhale, the room
faded to black. Plankton was
now adrift in a sea of
oblivion, his bødy relaxed and
weightless.
🦷🦷🦷🦷
The surgical team waited a
moment, watching the
monitors. The anesthesiologist
then nodded to the surgeon, who
carefully lifted Plankton's eyelid,
revealing a sti̕ll, unseeing eye, then
shining a light to his pupil before
closing his eyelid again. He
then took a reflex hammer and
tapped gently on Plankton's knee.
No reaction. The nurse noted the
time. "He's under," she murmured.
They went through the
checklist, ensuring his bødy was
completely relaxed, his reflexes
gone. The surgeon
smiled at Karen, who had been
watching anxiously from her seat.
"Everything's going to be okay," he
assured her. She nodded.
Karen watched, as
Plankton's fac͘e remained
peaceful, his breathing steady
under the influence of the
anesthesia.
The surgery began with a
whir of instruments. Plankton's mouth
was propped open, a rubber
dam holding back his tóngue. The
surgeon leaned in, peering into the
cavern of his møuth, a flashlight
illuminating the pearly white
teeth and the troublesome
wisdom teeth that had been
causing him so much pain. He
selected a tool, a kind of plier-like
instrument, and with a gentle but
firm touch, began to probe at the
first tooth.
Karen's stߋmach clenched as she
saw the surgeon's hand move with
precision, applying just enough
pressure to loosen the tooth.
She tried to focus on her
breathing, willing her heart to
slow down. The room was filled
with the faint smell of antiseptic
and the metallic scent of
dental instruments. Plankton's
face remained serene, his chest
rising and falling steadily as he lay
unaware of the work being
performed on him.
The first tooth came out with a
sudden pop, making Karen flinch.
The nurse quickly handed over
a small metal tray, catching the
tooth as it was extracted. The
surgeon worked with a
methodical calm, moving on to the
next one without pause. Karen
squeezed her eyes shut for a
moment, only to open them again
as she heard the sound of
Plankton's snoring, the kind that
only came when he was in a
deep sleep. It was strange,
comforting even, to know that
his bødy was oblivious to the
paın that had been plaguing him
for weeks.
The second wisdom tooth proved to
be more stubborn. The surgeon
muttered something to his assistant,
who nodded and handed him a
different tool. Karen's grip on
Plankton's hand tightened, her
knucklєѕ white with tension. She
could feel the sweat beading on
his palm despite the coolness of
the room. The surgeon's
expression grew more focused, his
movements more deliberate as
he worked to free the tooth from
its bony prıson.
The tension in the room was
almost palpable. The only
sounds were the muffled beeps
of the heart monitor and the
slight sucking noıse as the
surgeon worked in Plankton's møuth.
Karen's eyes darted around the
surgery, taking in the gleaming
tools, the blue-green light of the
overhead lamp, the masked faces of
the medical staff. The nurse
noticed her distress and offered a
reassuring smile, but it did little to
ease her mind. She wanted to
scream, to tell them to be careful,
but she knew better than to
disturb the surgery.
With a grunt of effort, the
surgeon finally managed to
loosen the second tooth. Karen
could feel Plankton's hand
spasm in hers, a reflexive response
that had her heart racing. But
his face remained serene, his
snores unchanged. She watched as
the tooth was lifted out, a tiny
drop of b!ood escaping from the
gum. It was placed on the tray
with its twin, two small, sharp
reminders of the paın he had
endured. The surgeon moved to
the third tooth, his movements
now more practiced, more
confident.
The extraction of the third tooth
was swift, almost anticlimactic.
The fourth, however, was a
different story. It was
impacted, buried deep in the
bone, and the surgeon's
expression grew taut as he
attempted to coax it out. Karen
could feel the tension in the
room, the air thick with it. The
whirring of the drill was a
steady background noise,
punctuated by the occasional
spurt of water and the smell of
bone dust. Plankton's chest
continued to rise and fall
evenly.
The surgeon leaned in closer,
his brow furrowed with
concentration. Karen watched
as beads of sweat formed on
his forehead, despite the coolness
of the surgıcal suite. The nurse
stood by, ready with gauze and
more tools. Plankton's face was
a mask of peace, his møuth a
dısturbıng contrast of serenity
and the tug of war
taking place within.
With a final, firm pull,
the fourth tooth gave way,
accompanied by a sound that
made Karen's stߋmach churn. It was
a wet, final release, and the
nurse swiftly handed over the
tray to catch the tooth. The
surgeon wiped the b!ood with a
quick, efficient motion, revealing
the gaping hole where the tooth
once had been. The surgical
assistant suctioned the b!ood,
the sound echoing in the quiet
room. Plankton's bødy jerked
slightly, but he remained
asleep, lost in the depths of
the anesthesia.
Karen couldn't help but
think about the paın
Plankton must have felt
before this moment. The
constant, throbbing ache that had
kept him up at night, the
swollen jaw that had made
eating a chore. Now, it was
over, or at least the
worst part was. The surgeon
nodded to the nurse, who
began to prepare the
stitches that would close the
wounds. The needle glinted in
the harsh light, a stark contrast
to Plankton's slack, unfeeling
features.
The surgical team moved
efficiently, their movements
choreographed by years of
experience. They stitched and
cleaned, ensuring that
everything was perfect before
they allowed him to wake.
Karen felt a strange mix of
relief and fear. Relief that
the ordeal was almost over,
fear of the paın that would come
once the anesthesia wore off.
As the surgeon finished
his work, he nodded to the
anesthesiologist. "He's all
set. We're going to start bringing
him out of it now."
Karen watched as the
anesthetic was turned down.
The nurse wiped his
face with a damp cloth, gently
cleaning the b!ood and saliva.
Karen spoke to him in a
soothing voice, "Plankton, you're
almost done. Time to wake up."
Plankton's eyelid fluttered,
his hand still in Karen's tight
grasp. His eye opened slowly,
unfocused at first, then gradually
finding her face. He blinked
several times, his gaze
uncomprehending. The nurse
smiled at him, "You did great."