𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 2 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! Hanna leaned forward, her screen studying Plankton. "How can I he--" "Space," Karen said, cutting Hanna off gently. "Give him space. Sometimes, that's what he needs most." Hanna nods, leaning back. Chip watched his dad with a newfound understanding of his father's struggles. He felt a tug of guilt for not seeing it sooner, for not knowing how to support him. But he also felt a sense of awe at his mom's patience and knowledge. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of Plankton's rocking. Karen watched him, her eyes full of love and concern. She knew his brain was a maze of thoughts and sensations, trying to make sense of a world that was often too much. Hanna, now more cautious, observed from a distance, trying to understand the complexities of autism. She felt a newfound respect for Karen and the unspoken strength she had to navigate this life with her husband. "I'm sorry," Plankton finally managed to say, his voice still shaky. Karen looked over at him, seeing the turmoil in his eye. "You don't have to—" But her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and recognized the text from Plankton's dentist for a dental appointment to get his x-ray. "Hanna, I hate to ask," Karen started, looking apologetic. "But could you possibly keep an eye on Chip for a bit?" Hanna looked from Plankton to Karen. "Of course!" she said without a second thought. "What's going on?" Karen sighs. "I'll keep you updated, but Plankton needs to get x- rays at the dentist..." Plankton's eye snapped back to focus at the mention of dentists. Dentist visits had always been a challenge. But Karen was already thinking ahead. "It's ok honey," she soothed. "We'll make sure they know about yo--" She turned to Plankton to see an oncoming absence seizure. "Plankton, it's ok," she cooed, but it was too late. The world around him faded into a blur of lights and sounds, his body frozen in a state of overwhelm. Hanna watched, horrified, as Plankton's eye is now unblinking, his body unmoving. Hanna was still, gaze fixed on Plankton, fear etched on her screen. She'd never seen anything like this before. But Karen was in action, her movements swift and practiced. She knew exactly what to do. "You're ok, Plankton. You're just having an absence. It'll be over soon." Chip watched, his own fear mirroring Hanna's. But there was something else there, too: understanding. He knew his mom was right, that his dad would come back to them. The seizure passed, and Plankton blinked back to reality. "Let's get to this appointment." Karen says, helping him stand. When Karen arrives with Plankton to the dentist's office, the receptionist smiles brightly. "Hi, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice chirpy and cheerful. Plankton flinches at the noise, his eye darting around the room, taking in every detail, every sound. The waiting room was a minefield of sensory assaults: the ticking clock, the humming of the lights, the rustle of magazines. Karen squeezes his hand gently, a silent reminder that she's there, that he's not alone. When they call his name, Plankton's grip tightens. The smell of antiseptic and the sight of the chair sends a tremor through his body. But Karen guides him through the door. In the sterile room, the dental hygienist is kind. "Hello, I'm Dr. Marla," she says, her voice measured and calm. "We're gonna take some pictures of your teeth, okay?" Plankton nods, his eye wide with anxiety. "Okay," he whispers. Karen squeezes his hand reassuringly, nodding at Dr. Marla. "He's nervous," she says quietly as he rocks in a stim. "But he'll be okay." The chair is cold and hard, but Plankton doesn't notice. He's too busy focusing on his breathing, counting the tiles on the ceiling. Karen stays close, whispering calming phrases. "In and out, honey. You've got this." His rocking slows. Dr. Marla moves with a practiced grace, her eyes watchful and understanding. "Open wide," she instructs, and Plankton obeys. The x-ray is over quickly, and Dr. Marla gently removes the tray. "Good job," she says, her voice soothing. Plankton's eye flutters as he tries to refocus on the room around him. But the calm is shattered when Dr. Marla delivers the news: "Mr. Plankton, you're going to need your wisdom teeth removed today." Plankton's eye widens, his breath catches. "Now?" he stammers, his voice squeaking with fear. Karen nods solemnly. "It's preventative, honey. It'll be easier now than waiting for them to cause problems later." Plankton's heart races as the words sink in. Surgery. Now. His brain spirals into overload. He feels Karen's calming hand on his shoulder, but it's not enough. The world around him feels like it's closing in, the sounds too loud, the lights too bright. "Breathe," Karen whispers. The room becomes a blur of masked faces and shiny instruments. Plankton's body tenses, his stims fading into the background as fear takes over. Karen remains a constant presence, talking him through the process. "They're going to put you to sleep, Plankton," she explains. "You won't feel a thing." The anesthesiologist enters the room, a gentle giant with a calming smile. "I'm Dr. Smith. I'll be taking care of y—" But Plankton's gone into overdrive, his body trembling with the intensity of his fear. "He's autistic," Karen interjects quickly. "He needs extra care. He's sensitive to sensory stimulation." Dr. Marla nods. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Smith, takes a step back, his face a picture of understanding. "It's ok," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. "We'll make this as comfortable as possible for you." Karen nods gratefully. "Plankton has a hard time with sudden changes. Can you tell us what's going to happen?" Dr. Smith nods. "We'll start with a topical numbing agent, then move to a sedative. It'll help keep him asleep during the procedure." The anesthetic cream is cold against Plankton's gums and his arm, where the IV will eventually be. "It's just a tickle," Karen says, trying to soothe his nerves. Plankton nods, his body stiff as a board. He's already in fight or flight mode, his brain unable to process. The mask is placed over his face, and he inhales the sweet smell of nitrous oxide. "Breathe deep," Karen coos, her hand on his. Plankton's eye widens at first, then slowly glazed over as the gas takes hold. The room seems to spin around him, but it's a comforting, soothing spin. The lights dim, the sounds become muffled, and the sharp edges of the world soften. He feels himself being lifted into the chair, his body weightless. Karen's voice is the last thing he hears before everything disappears. Karen texts Hanna. "I'm letting you know, Plankton's getting a tiny operation to remove his wisdom teeth." Karen texts. When the surgery finishes, Plankton is still asleep with Karen holding his limp hand. The dental staff is extra careful not to startle his sensitive system. They wheel him into recovery, his chest rising and falling evenly with the rhythm of sleep. Karen watches him closely, their bond stronger than ever. Hanna's text lights up her phone screen. "How's everything?" Hanna asks. "He's in recovery," Karen replies in the text. Meanwhile, Hanna and Chip are at the park, trying to pass the time. Chip throws a frisbee to Hanna. As the frisbee arcs through the air, he thinks about his dad. He wishes he could be there, but he knows that his mom's calmness is what Plankton needs right now. He wonders how the surgery went, if his dad is ok. Now, the dentist turns to Karen. "The anesthesia will wear off soon. He'll wake up groggy, but he'll be ok." Karen nods, squeezing Plankton's hand as they remove the IV. "His mouth has been numbed, and he might act a bit loopy when he first wakes up." As the anesthesia wears off, Plankton stirs, his eye blinking open. "Hi, honey," Karen says softly. "It's over."