March 19, 2014 An aura or warning is the first symptom of a seizure and is considered part of the seizure. Often the aura is an indescribable feeling. Other times it’s easy to recognize and may be a change in feeling, sensation, thought, or behavior that is similar each time a seizure occurs. The aura can also occur alone and may be called a focal onset aware seizure, simple partial seizure or partial seizure without change in awareness. An aura can occur before a change in awareness or consciousness. Yet, many people have no aura or warning; the seizure starts with a loss of consciousness or awareness. Common symptoms before a seizure: Awareness, Sensory, Emotional or Thought Changes: Déjà vu (a feeling that a person, place or thing is familiar, but you've never experienced it before) Jamais vu (feeling that a person, place or thing is new or unfamiliar, but it's not) Smells Sounds Tastes Visual loss or blurring “Strange” feelings Fear/panic (often negative or scary feelings) Pleasant feelings Racing thoughts Physical Changes: Dizzy or lightheaded Headache Nausea or other stomach feelings (often a rising feeling͞ from the stߋmach to the thr*at) Numbness or tingling in part of the body Middle: The middle of a seizure is often called the ictal phase. It’s the perıod of time from the first symptoms (including an aura) to the end of the seizure activity, This correlates with the electrical seizure activity in the brain. Sometimes the visible symptoms last longer than the seizure activity on an EEG. This is because some of the visible symptoms may be aftereffects. Common symptoms during a seizure. Awareness, Sensory, Emotional or Thought Changes: Loss of awareness/explicit memory (often called “black out”) Confused, feeling spacey Periods of forgetfulness or memory lapses Distracted, daydreaming Loss of cønsciøusness, unconscious, or “pass1ng out” Unable to hear Sounds may be strange or different Unusual smells (often bad smells like burning rubber) Unusual tastes Loss of vision or unable to see Blurry vision Flashing lights Formed visual hallvcin4tions (objects or things are seen that aren’t really there) Numbness, tingling, or electric shockıng like feeling in bødy, arm or leg Out of body sensations Feeling detached Déjà vu or jamais vu Body parts feels or looks different Feeling of paпic, feariпg, impending doom (intense feeling that something bad is going to happen) Physical Changes: Difficulty talking (may stop talking, make nonsense or garbled sounds, keep talking or speech may not make sense) Unable to swallow, drooling Repeated blinking of eyes, eyes may move to one side or look upward, or staring Lack of movement or muscle tone (unable to move, loss of tone in neck and head may drop forward, loss of muscle tone in body and person may slump or fall forward) Tremors, twitching or jerking movements (may occur on one or both sides of face, arms, legs or whole body; may start in one area then spread to other areas or stay in one place) Rigid or tense muscles (part of the body or whole body may feel very tight or tense and if standing, may fall “like a tree trunk”) Repeated non-purposeful movements, called automatisms, involve the face, arms or legs, such as lipsmacking or chewing movements repeated movements of hands, like wringing, playing with buttons or objects in hands, waving walking or running Repeated purposeful movements (person may continue activity that was going on before the seizure) Convulsion (person loses cønsciøusness, bødy becomes rigid or tense, then fast jerking movements occur) Ending: As the seizure ends, the postictal phase occurs - this is the recovery period after the seizure. Some people recover immediately while others may take minutes to hours to feel like their usual self. The type of seizure, as well as what part of the brain the seizure impacts, affects the recovery period – how long it may last and what may occur during it. Common symptoms after a seizure. Awareness, Sensory, Emotional, or Thought Changes: Slow to respond or not able to respond right away Sleepy Confused Memory loss Difficulty talking or writing Feeling fuzzy, light-headed/dizzy Feeling depressed, sad, upset Scared Anxious Frustrated/angry, embarrassed, ashamed Physical Changes: May have injuries, such as bruising, scrapes or worse if fell during seizure May feel tıred, exhausted, or sleep for minutes or hours Headaçhes or other paın Náuseas or upset stomach Thirsty General weàkness or weak in one part or sıde of the bødy

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 8 "Chip!" Karen's voice cuts through the air like a knife, her eyes wide with alarm. Chip, realizing his mistake, goes to hug his dad. "Sorry," he says, going up to Plankton, who puts his arm out to stop him. Sandy, oblivious to Plankton's overload, grabs his arm. "NO!" she yells, her voice sharp. "You do not push your son away like that!" Plankton flinches at her voice. He tries to pry his hand out of Sandy's, but her grip is firm. "Let me go," he says, his voice strained. But Sandy doesn't budge. "You listen to me, Plankton," she says, her eyes flashing. "You are not going to push aw-" But she's interrupted by another seizure, Plankton's body convulsing. Sandy's eyes go wide with fear, not knowing what to do. "What's happening?" she cries, finally letting go of his wrist. Karen's eyes flash with anger and desperation as she quickly moves to Plankton's side. She glares at Sandy. "It's a condition," she snaps. "And it's not for you to judge." Her voice is sharp, her frustration with Sandy's lack of understanding palpable. Sandy's eyes widen as she realizes her mistake, her hand flying to her mouth. "What," she murmurs. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-" But Karen's fury cuts her off. "You didn't mean to what?" she snaps. "To bombard Plankton with your yelling? To make him feel like he has to be touched?" Her eyes bore into Sandy, sizzling with accusation. "This is why we don't tell people," she says, her voice shaking. Sandy's eyes fill with remorse as she takes in the sight of Plankton's trembling form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice shaking with regret. "I'm sorry, Karen. I didn't mean to..." Her words trail off as she realizes the depth of her mistake. Karen's face is a mask of sadness and anger as she tends to Plankton, her eyes never leaving Sandy. "You didn't mean to what?" she says, each word cutting through the silence like a knife. "To make Plankton feel guilty for Chip's ignorance? He has autism, Sandy." Her voice is low, but it carries the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "This is why we don't tell people, Sandy. This is why." Sandy's face falls, her complexion paler than the white walls of the room. "Autism?" she repeats, her voice barely a whisper. She's heard of it, of course, but never considered that Plankton's quirks could be more than just quirks. She feels a pang of guilt for her insensitivity. Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yes," she says, her voice thick with sadness. "He's been dealing with it his entire life. And we've worked so hard to make sure he's comfortable, to help him cope." She looks at Sandy, her gaze pleading. Her voice cracks as she says it, her heart breaking for her husband. Sandy's eyes fill with tears as she looks at her friend. "Karen," she whispers. "I'm so sorry." She takes a step back, realizing the harm she's caused. "I had no idea. I didn't mean to..." Her words trail off as she sees the pain etched on Karen's face. Karen's expression is a storm of emotions - anger, sadness, and a deep-seated frustration. "You didn't know," she says, her voice flat. "But now you do. And you see what it does to him." She nods towards Plankton, who's still shaking on the bed, his eye squeezed shut as he tries to fight off the seizure. Sandy's eyes fill with tears as she nods, her heart racing. Karen takes a deep breath, her gaze still on Plankton. "Just be there," she says, her voice tired. "Don't push him. Don't make him feel... less." Sandy nods again, her eyes fixed on Plankton as Karen continues to help him through the seizure. Her perception of him shifts, the layers of bravado and ambition stripped away to reveal the man beneath the madness. As the seizure subsides, Plankton opens his eye to find Sandy still hovering, looking at him with a mix of fear and regret. He feels exposed, his most private vulnerability laid bare before his wife's best friend. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "I'm sorry," Sandy whispers, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I didn't know." Plankton's gaze remains on the floor, his body still trembling slightly. "It's not for you to know." Sandy feels the sting of his words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and sadness. "I just wanted to help," she murmurs, her eyes filling with tears. But Plankton can't bear the weight of her pity, his own anger a shield. He turns away from her, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton," she says softly, her hand hovering in the space between them. "I'm here." But Plankton flinches at the touch, his body tightening. "No," he says, his voice firm. Sandy's eyes widen with hurt as she withdraws her hand. "But, I just wanted to-" "No," Plankton says, his voice firm. The seizure has passed, but his emotions are still raw, his body still shaking from the tremors. Karen's heart breaks as she sees the rejection on Sandy's face, but she understands Plankton's need for space. She steps in, placing a hand on Sandy's arm. "Let's give him some time," she whispers, her gaze never leaving Plankton's closed-off form. Sandy nods, her eyes brimming with tears as she backs away slowly, not wanting to cause any more stress.

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 4 Chip looked down at the octopus in his lap, his eyes filling with tears. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I just didn't understand." Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm her own shaking voice. "You need to understand, Chip. That word is not okay," she said, her tone steady. "It's hurtful and disrespectful. Your father is not 'that'. He's autistic. And autistic is just a part of who he is." Chip looked up at her, his expression one of shock and dawning realization. "But why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice small. "Why did you keep it a secret?" Karen took a moment to compose herself, her own tears threatening to spill over. "We didn't keep it a secret just to hide it," she explained, her voice trembling. "We kept it private because it's your father's story to tell, not ours. And because we didn't want you to think of him any differently. But we should have talked to you, yes. We should have helped you understand." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the octopus in his hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to make hi-" "Don't," Karen said, cutting him off. "Your apology can wait. Right now, you need to understand why that word is wrong." She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's not just a label, Chip. It's a way people have used to put others down. To make them feel less than." Her voice was firm, her eyes never leaving his. "Your father has felt that way enough times already; he doesn't need it from his own son!" Chip nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. He hadn't realized the impact of his ignorance. "What can I do to make it right?" he asked, his voice cracking. Karen took a deep breath. "First, you need to educate yourself," she said gently. "Learn your dad's specific needs. Talk to him. Hear his story. Understand what it's like for him." Chip nodded, his gaze firm. "Okay," he said, his voice still shaky. "I'll do that." Karen goes back to the bedroom to find Plankton sitting on the edge of the bed, his body wracked with sobs. His hand was moving in a repetitive motion, tracing the edge of the bedspread, a silent testament to his pain. Her heart breaking, she sat beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "It's okay, love," she soothed, her voice gentle. "It's okay to cry." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking. But amidst the tears, a steady sound emerged. It was the soft, rhythmic humming he often did when he was overwhelmed or even just restless. It was his way of self- soothing, his brain's attempt to find order in the chaos. Karen had learned to recognize this sound over the years. She held his hand, her thumb rubbing small circles in his palm. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice a balm to his raging emotions. "I'm here." Plankton's humming grew softer, his body slowly still. The anger drained from him, leaving behind only sadness. "Chip," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "He said the word." It was a private stim, one Karen knew meant Plankton was trying to process the pain. He spoke to himself often during these moments, his thoughts running in a loop as he tried to find comfort in his own company as he rocked back and forth. "But why?" Plankton whispered, his eye glazed over as he felt the familiar rhythm of his stim kick in. "Why would Chip, Chip did?" He stared at his own hand. "I'm not that. I'm not." Karen's heart ached at the pain in his voice. She knew this was his way of trying to make sense of the world. "You're not, love," she assured him. "You're just different. And that's okay." Chip goes into his parents bedroom and goes up to Plankton slowly, the octopus in his hand. "Dad," he whispers, his voice tentative. Plankton looks up, his eye red and swollen from crying. "I'm sorry," Chip says, holding out the octopus. "Can we ta—" But Plankton doesn't give him a chance to finish. "I don't want your apology," he says coldly. He turns his body away from Chip. Karen's eyes dart between the two of them, her heart racing with fear of the growing rift. "Plankton," she starts, but he shakes his head. "Please," Chip says, his voice breaking. "I didn't know." He takes another step forward, his hand outstretched. "Let me help you," he says, putting his hand on his dad's shoulder to turn him around. But Plankton flinches at the touch, his sensory overload already at peak. Karen's eyes widen as she recognizes the signs of another seizure coming on. "No," she says. "Not now." But it's too late. Plankton's eye rolls back. Chip backs away, his heart racing. This was his fault. If he hadn't upset him, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Karen moves swiftly, placing the bear in his trembling hand. The room goes quiet as the seizure takes hold, the only sounds Plankton's whimpers. Chip watches. He wants to help, but doesn't know how. Karen moves quickly, guiding the bear into Plankton's hand. "Now Chip," she says, her voice steady. "When your dad comes back, he may not immediately remember. He might talk funny or seem confused. It just means he needs some time to get his thoughts back." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his father's trembling form as the shaking slows. Drool trickled down the corner of Plankton's mouth as he began to mumble. "Wha-wha-wha," Plankton phrased, trying to piece together the shattered thoughts. It was like his brain had gone back to the beginning, relearning how to speak, to process the world around him. It was both heartbreaking and strangely endearing. "Bear," he mumbled, his fingers fidgeting with the plush toy. "Bear...good." He giggled, a high-pitched sound that seemed out of place coming from him. "Bear is...bear." His speech was a jumble of words. Karen watched with a mix of amusement and sadness. This was a part of Plankton's recovery she had seen before, his brain trying to find its footing again. It was like a toddler learning to talk, except it was her husband. She turned to Chip. "Try talking to him," she urged. "Keep it simple and calm."

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 18 Karen squeezed his hand, a silent reminder of her support. She knew that Hanna's apology was a step, but it wasn't enough to erase the damage done. She looked at Hanna, her gaze firm. "You have to understand that what you said was incredibly hurtful, not just to Plankton, but to me too. Our love isn't something to be bargained with or judged." Hanna nodded, her eyes now filled with genuine shame. "I understand, Karen," she said. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused." Karen nodded back, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "Good," she said simply. "Because Plankton is my everything." Plankton felt a warmth spread through him, despite the anger still simmering just below the surface. Karen had stood up for him, just like she always did. "Okay." Hanna reached out slowly, her hand hovering over Plankton's arm. He stiffened at the uninvited contact, his skin prickling with discomfort. "You okay, buddy?" she asked him, her voice tentative. Plankton felt a familiar tension in his chest, a tightness spreading through his body. The room seemed to close in on him, the lights too bright, the sounds too loud. Another seizure was approaching, and Karen noticed the change instantly. She knew the pain from wisdom teeth extraction and the touch from Hanna has been too much. Hanna watched as Plankton's body began to tense up, the signs of an impending seizure all too familiar to Karen. "What's happening? Plankton!" she asked, her voice filled with worry. But Karen was already in action, her movements quick and precise. She guided Hanna's hand away from Plankton, as Plankton's body began to convulse slightly, his eye rolling back. "Seizure," Karen murmured, as she knew the signs all too well. Hanna sat on the edge of his bed as Karen got his sensory box of fidget items. "Just stay calm," Karen said to Hanna. "This happens sometimes." Hanna's eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded. Plankton's seizure grew more intense, his limbs thrashing as his body tried to cope. "Let it in, let it wash over you." Karen says, grounding him slightly. The room grew quiet, except for the sound of his labored breathing. Hanna watched, her heart racing, feeling useless. Karen held out a plush toy, a green squishy star. "Look at the star, sweetie. Focus on the star. Look at the star, Plankton. Just the star." His body continued to convulse. Hanna watched, frozen as the plush star trembled in Karen's hand. "Look at the star, Plankton," Karen repeated, her voice calm and steady. "Find peace in the star." Plankton's eye flitted towards the toy, his breathing erratic. The sensory overload was intense, but he tried to follow Karen's guidance. As the seizure subsided, Plankton's tremors grew less intense, his gaze remaining fixed on the green star. He took deep breaths, trying to regain control of his body. Karen watched him, her own breathing matching his rhythm, willing him to find peace. Hanna sat there, her heart pounding in her chest, seeing the raw vulnerability of her friend's husband. She felt a deep sense of regret for her earlier words. "It's okay, baby," Karen whispered. She knew the aftermath was often a hard part for him, his body still reeling from the neurological storm, his sense of reality skewed. Plankton's eye focused slowly on the green star. As the seizure's grip weakened, he turned to it, his gaze hazy. "It's okay," Karen murmured. "You're okay now." His breathing grew steadier, but his mind was still semiconscious in confusion. The world around him was a blur of color and sound, his thoughts tangled and disjointed. "Plankton?" Hanna's voice was tentative. Plankton barely registered her words, semiconscious. He turned to her, his gaze hazy and his movements awkward. "Hi, Hans," he mumbled, his voice slurred. Karen exchanged a knowing look with Hanna. "Hi, Plankton," she said, her tone gentle. Plankton giggled to himself, his laughter sounding distant and slightly off-key. Karen smiled softly, recognizing his postictal loopiness. It was a common reaction for him from a seizure, his brain trying to find its bearings. He stared at the green star in his hand, his fingers playing with its soft fabric. "It's so... fluffy," he said, his voice full of wonder. Karen couldn't help but smile at his childlike fascination. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Just keep focusing on the sta-" "Star," he interrupts, his laughter bubbling up again. "Fluffy star." Karen's smile grew wider despite the situation. "It's okay, Plankton," she reassured, her voice calm. "Just keep playing with it." Hanna watched, her heart in her throat. "Is he... is he okay?" she asked, uncertain of what she was seeing. "Want... want more is," Plankton said, his words slurred. Karen nodded, her expression filled with love. "He's okay, Hanna," she said. "It's just part of his recovery from a seizure." Hanna looked on, still struggling to comprehend the complexities of Plankton's condition. "After a seizure, he can act a bit... different, sometimes. He probably won't remember what happened," Karen explained, her voice calm and reassuring. "You can talk to him, just keep it simple and don't touch him without asking." Hanna nodded, feeling like an outsider in this world of understanding and care that Karen and Plankton shared. "Hey Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "You okay?" Plankton looked at her, his eye glazed over. "Fluffy star," he replied, his voice still slurred and playful. Hanna managed a smile, though it was tinged with sadness at the thought of her earlier cruelty. "Hanna," he said, his voice still off. "She smell like... like bubblegum?" Hanna's eyes widened. "Plankton, it's me, it's just your imagination playing tricks on you after the se-" But Karen held up a hand to stop her. "We don't want to overwhelm his senses right now," she explained. "Let him come back to us in his own time." Hanna nodded. "You like the star, don't you?" Karen asked, her voice soothing. Plankton nodded, his giggles subsiding into a soft chuckle. "It's so fluffy," he murmured, his fingers tracing the star's outline. Hanna watched the tender interaction, her heart heavy with regret. "You know, Plankton," Hanna ventured, her voice shaky. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He looked at her, his gaze unsteady. "You, hurt," he said, his words slow and deliberate. His finger traced the plush star's fabric, his mind still in a haze. Karen's heart broke for him, but she knew he needed to hear it from Hanna. "I know, Plankton," Hanna whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so, so sorry." Plankton's gaze remained on the star, his finger tracing its fluffy outline. "Fluffy," he murmured, his voice a gentle echo of his usual self. "You like it?" she asked, her voice gentle. "Fluffy," he repeated, not really hearing her. The room was still, the air thick with the weight of their recent exchange. Hanna's eyes were glued to Plankton, his post-seizure state both fascinating and alarming her. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. Plankton's giggle was sudden, his gaze shifting from the star to Hanna. "Hans smell funny," he said, his words still slurred. Hanna swallowed her sadness, forcing a smile. "It's because I ate a whole pack of bubblegum," she lied. His eyes lit up, his innocence shining through. "Want bubblegum?" he asked, his voice filled with childish excitement. Hanna felt a wave of guilt wash over her. "No, Plankton, I'm okay," she said gently. "But you keep playing with your fluffy star." Karen watched as Hanna interacted with Plankton, his mind still in the same post-seizure state. It was both heartbreaking and a tiny bit amusing to see. "What's your name?" Plankton asked, his speech still slurred. Hanna's smile was sad. "It's Hanna, Plankton," she said, trying to keep the conversation light. "Oh, Hanna Plankton. You're a pretty name," he said, his voice filled with the same wonder. "Thank you," Hanna said, fighting back tears. She felt like a monster for the way she'd treated him. Plankton's laughter filled the room again, his body still slightly twitching from the seizure. "You smell pretty, Hanna Plankton," he said, his words still slurred. Hanna's heart clenched at the innocence behind his words, knowing how much pain she'd caused him. "Thank you, Plankton," she managed, her voice thick. Plankton's gaze drifted to her, in a way that Karen knew meant that his mind's slowly clearing back to himself, his expression becoming more aware, his eye focusing slightly as he took in his surroundings.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 20 With gentle curiosity, Chip moves closer to his dad, his hand outstretched but not touching. "Dad? Can I... can I help with your stimming?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, but his eye remains unblinking as his body sits rigid. "Chip," Karen says, her voice calm. "It's okay, honey. Just wait. He'll come back to us soon." Chip nods, his heart racing as he watches Plankton's stillness. He's seen this before, but this time feels different. This time, he knows. With a deep breath, he sits down beside his father, his hand still hovering. He doesn't want to scare Plankton, doesn't want to do anything wrong. But he also doesn't want him to be alone. Plankton's antennae begin to twitch, ever so slightly, as his breathing slows. Chip whispers, "It's ok, Dad," his voice barely audible. The minutes stretch like hours as Chip watches his father. His mind fills with everything he's learned about autism, about his dad's challenges. He knows Plankton's brain is just trying to find peace amidst the chaos of sensory input. And even though his hand is still, he knows he's there for his dad, ready to help whenever he needs it. Slowly, Plankton blinks. His one eye meets Chip's, and for a moment, Chip sees fear, confusion, and then... recognition? Plankton's body relaxes, his antennae drooping. "Chip," he says, his voice a whisper. "Chip, here. Did here, here.." Chip nods, his heart racing. He knows his dad is trying to communicate, his mind still not clear from the seizure. He gently takes Plankton's hand and starts to stroke it, light and soothing. "It's okay, Dad," he whispers. "I'm right here." Plankton's antennae twitch, and he blinks again. His voice is still weak, but he tries to form words. "Chip... you... you're so... good." The words come out slurred, but the warmth is unmistakable. Chip feels a weight lifting from his chest. His dad's okay. "Thanks, Dad," he says, his voice steady now. "I'm just trying to underst--" Plankton's antennae suddenly shoot up, his eye wide. "Wait," he says, his voice slightly stronger. "Your hand... it's... it's helping me?" Plankton looks at his hand in wonder. Chip nods. "Yeah, Dad. It's like... it's calming you down," he says, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and relief. Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he looks up at Chip, his expression a mix of amazement and gratitude. "Yippee!" Chip's eyes light up at his father's rare outburst of joy. "You see, Dad?" He says, his voice filled with pride. "I can help you just like you help me." Plankton nods, his expression still somewhat dazed but now with a hint of smile. "Oh, did I ever show you our selfie I took of us on the way to my science fair? You fell asleep on me!" He says, pulling out his phone to show Plankton. Plankton, still not quite conscious/aware in his postictal state, claps as he laughs. "Eeeeee! Post it and let it go viral!" He squeals in delight, his eye wide and childlike. Chip smiles. "Can I put in the caption that you have a neurodisability?" Chip asks, to which his dad nods eagerly. Karen watches the interaction with a soft smile. She knows this might be a pivotal moment for both of them. "Remember, Chip," she says, "It's important that we respect your father's boundaries. Even if he's okay with sharing about his autism right now, he might not always feel like that. It's his story to-" "Karen it be good!" Plankton interrupts her as Chip writes this as the caption: '🐠💤💻💨: When your neurodisabled dad falls asleep on the way to your big science fair, you gotta catch those Z's... and the moment! 😂👨‍🔬💤' Chip posts it. "Ok then, we all gotta get to bed," Karen says. The next morning Plankton wakes up oblivious to what's happened during last night, obviously not knowing about Chip having such a picture, let alone the post itself. Chip woke up early, his heart pounding from a mix of excitement and anxiety. He quickly checks his phone to find the post has gone viral, with dozens of likes and comments. His face beams with pride. Karen knew better than to greet her husband with such news. Even though he did unknowingly consent to it, he was not actually have any awareness/explicit memory of it. So she wouldn't bring it up in front of Plankton. "Good morning," Karen greets him as usual, like nothing happened. "How did you sleep?" Plankton rubs his eye. "Fine, I guess," he says, still groggy. Chip looks up from his phone, his heart racing. He's torn between sharing the viral post and keeping the peace. But as Plankton heads towards the kitchen, his antennae perk up. "Is something wrong?" He asks, his voice full of concern. Chip takes a deep breath and decides to hold off on the news. "No, Dad," he says, his voice steady. "Everything's fine." Plankton nods and continues into the kitchen, his mind already racing with thoughts of how he's gonna attempt stealing his rival Krabs formula this morning. Karen gives Chip a knowing look, and he nods. He understood. For now, they'll keep the viral post between them. They see Plankton using his telescope to spy on the Krusty Krab. "What's your plan for today? Perhaps any thing that's successful?" Karen teased. "Hardy haaaaaaahhhhh, Karen," Plankton replied, rolling his eye. "I'll just wing it.."

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 19 Chip's hand remains on his father's arm, his touch light. "So what can I do to make sure I don't make you upset?" He asks, his eyes full of concern. Plankton's antennae twitch. "Just... just ask before you touch me," he says, his voice soft. "And if I say no, don't take it personally." Chip nods. "I will, Dad," he says, his hand now slowly retreating. "But what about the seizures?" Plankton sighs. "I don't always know why they happen," he admits. "But when they do, it's important to keep me safe. No loud noises, no bright lights. And if you can, stay calm. I know it's scary, but it's just my brain saying it needs a break. But they can happen if I'm really scared and upset, or if my body feels like it's too much to handle." His antennas droop slightly. Chip nods, his mind racing with questions. "But why do you sometimes just freeze?" He asks, his voice gentle. "Or get really still and don't talk at all?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly. "That's called shutdown," he explains. "It's like... my brain's had enough. It's like it's in a traffic jam, and all the messy mixed up signals are confusing. So it just... stops. It's my body's way of protecting me from stimulation I guess. They're absence seizures, and I don't always know I'm having them." Chip's eyes widen. "So, it's like you're there, but not really?" He asks, his voice soft with curiosity. Plankton nods. "It's like everything goes on autopilot," he says. "I may see and hear, but it's like my brain's on a break to where I might not recognize what's going on around me. It's like being lost in a dream state, even though I'm not 'dreaming' but, it's like trying to remember a dream after you've woken up. I also might feel like I'm having a headache." Chip listens intently, his mind trying to comprehend the complexity of his father's experience. "So, what can I do to help you when you're in a shutdown?" He asks, his voice laced with concern. "Just be there," Plankton says. "And give me some space. Don't try to shake me out of it. Just wait until I come back. It's not something I can control." He pauses. "And if you can, maybe find a quiet place for me to go to, where there are no bright lights or loud noises. If your ever concerned go get your mother. But my absence seizures can be triggered by stress too. So just keep an eye on me and help me to avoid getting too anxious." Chip nods, his eyes wide with understanding. "What else can trigger them? And how come you don't blink during them?" Plankton's antennae wave thoughtfully. "It's like my brain is trying to reboot," he explains. "And the not blinking is part of it. It's like my body's way of saying, 'I'm processing, hold on.' It's hard to explain, but it's like everything else about me, it's just how my body does. As for what can trigger them, it's often when I'm really scared, or there's too much going on around me. Sensory overload. But déjà vu can trigger one, maybe rapidly flashing lights of bright colors. Sometimes overlapping chatter, if multiple people talk at once. Or if you talk too fast." Chip nods, taking in every word. "What about the times when you steal from the Krabby Patty restaurant?" He asks, his eyes innocently curious. Plankton's antennae wave slightly, his face a mask of resignation. "It's because my brain doesn't always work like everyone else's," he says. "I've had close calls at the Krusty Krab before. None of them are to know about my autism.." Just then, Karen comes in and sees them both openly talking. "Aw-" "Before you ask, if I say yes and admit we're bonding, will you not start with the aww-ing?" Plankton says, rolling his eye at her. Karen laughs, wiping at the corner of her eye. "I just think it's sweet, you two talking like this!" But Chip's mind is still racing with questions. He looks up at Karen. "Mommy, does Dad have doctors to-" Karen cuts him off quickly. "It can't be cured, sweetheart," she says gently. "But a lot of the time, it's just about understanding his needs and making sure he's comfortable. Now if something came up or if he's even got something like a cold, we've a sensory friendly specialist for those times. Like when we travel, such as for your science fair, I'd look up nearest sensory clinics, just in case. It's because a regular medical office setting can be too much for him. A hospital environment can be really overwhelming for anyone, but especially for him. Now his dentist knows about his autism and accommodates him, but otherwise we'd only reach out to the sensory ones if a medic's needed." She turned to Plankton, who's now rocking on the bed, his knees pressed against his chest, his antennae tucked in. Karen looked back at Chip. "He doesn't like that question. If some thing's needed, I know to discuss it with him and look at alternatives. Otherwise, unless he has a scenario in his head or something, even in some emergency, I know it's a bad subject for him. I'm always truthful with him and I know him. I know you meant nothing by it, but unless absolutely necessary or if he brings it up, do not needlessly bring up his healthcare or whatnot. If anything that is up to him. So, if you're ever concerned, you can ask me and we'll tell you what you need to know. The sensory specialist is who we'd call, not any ambulances or whatever, and they're high-tech and skilled with all topics having to do with health. Otherwise, do not bring up anything like that. Do you understand, Chip?" Chip nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice small. "I did not know it was a bad question." But Plankton didn't even respond. Plankton's rocking is even more pronounced. It's his way of stimming, a way to calm himself. "Dad?" Chip says again, but Plankton doesn't react. Chip watches him, his curiosity piqued. He's seen this behavior before, but now he understands it's not because Plankton is mad or upset with him. It's just how he copes. He decides to try something new. "Dad," he says softly, "can you show me how you stim?" Plankton still doesn't seem to hear him. Karen notices the tension in Chip's voice and quickly steps in. "Why don't we all sit down and talk more about this?" She suggests, her tone soothing. "Plankton, can you tell Chip about stimming?" But Plankton doesn't even budge. Chip watches his father's steady rocking, his curiosity growing. He tries again, his voice even softer. "Dad, please?" Yet Karen notices his eye is unfocused, distant. "Plankton," Karen intervenes gently, "Plankton honey, are you okay?" Plankton's rocking slows down as his body stiffened. And Karen knew exactly what was happening. "Chip," she says gently, "Your dad's experiencing a bit of a seizure right now. It's okay, he'll come back to us." Chip nods, his heart racing as he watches his father. He's seen this before, but now he understands. It's not just strange behavior, it's part of his autism.

https://www.verywellhealth.com/seizure-phases-4797974

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 11 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! The room feels like it's shrunk, the air thick with unspoken words. Chip's chest tightens, his eyes stinging. He'd never wanted to make his dad feel like this. Timmy looks at him, his expression full of sympathy. "It's okay," he says, his voice soothing. "He's just scared." They sit in silence for a while, the only sound the steady ticking of the clock on the mantel. Chip's mind is racing, trying to piece together what went wrong. How could something that brought Timmy so much joy cause so much pain for his dad? Timmy breaks the silence, his voice soft. "Sometimes, it's hard for people to accept help," he says. "Especially when it feels like you're trying to change them." He looks at Chip, his eyes understanding. "But you can't make anyone feel something they're not ready to." Chip nods, feeling a lump form in his throat. "But what do we do now?" He asks, desperation lacing his voice. Timmy shrugs. "Let's go apologize.." They find Plankton sitting on his bed in the bedroom. Chip's heart raced as they approached. "Dad," he starts, his voice shaking. "Timmy and I, we just want to say we're sorry." Plankton looks up, his eye twitching slightly. "You can't fix me." Timmy nods as Karen comes in. "But we can still be there for you," he says, his voice earnest. "And maybe, we can learn together." Plankton's gaze meets Timmy's, his expression unreadable. But before anyone can say another word, Plankton's body shifts. Suddenly, his eye glazed over, and he starts to rock back and forth, his hands flapping rapidly. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice filled with fear; but Karen understands. "It's okay," Karen says. "It's one of his seizures." Timmy's eyes widen, his hands stilling in mid-air. "What's happening?" He asks. Karen explains in a calm, steady voice. "It's called a non-motor seizure. Sometimes it's just his brain doing its own thing. We have to be quiet and let it pass. This isn't the first time." Chip watches as Plankton's body rocks back and forth, his eye unfocused. He feels a rush of fear and helplessness. This is his dad, his hero, reduced to this by something he can't control. Timmy nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton. Karen quickly moves to Plankton's side. "Remember, Chip," she whispers, her voice calm. "Just let it run its course. It's like a storm passing through." Chip nods, his eyes glued to his dad's trembling form. Timmy sits silently beside them, his hands still in his lap as Plankton's seizure unfolds. His rocking becomes more pronounced, his breathing shallow and rapid. Karen holds his hand, her expression a mask of concern. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmurs. "You're sa-" But Plankton's body jolts, his eye rolling back in his head. Chip watches his dad's autistic behavior take over in a way he's never seen before. Timmy's eyes are wide with shock. "Is he okay?" He whispers to Karen. She nods. "It'll be over soon," she promises. "It's just part of his autism." The minutes drag on, each second feeling like an eternity. Plankton's seizure subsides, his body finally still. His breathing evens out, and the color starts to return to his cheeks. Chip feels a weight lift from his chest. "It's over," Karen whispers, her hand still gripping Plankton's. Timmy looks at Chip, his eyes full of unspoken questions. Plankton slowly opens his eye. Timmy's eyes are full of concern. "Are you okay, Mr. Plankton?" But Plankton doesn't answer. He's staring at something on the wall, something only he can see. His hand reaches out, flapping slightly, as if trying to grab onto an invisible thought. But Karen's been through this before. She knows what to do. She whispers to Timmy, "It's okay. This is just his brain's way of handling too much input." Timmy nods, his eyes glued to Plankton. As Plankton's body slowly relaxes, his voice starts, a string of words that don't quite make sense. "The... the...the...spoons," Plankton says, his voice distant. Chip and Timmy exchange confused glances. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand. "It's okay, baby," she whispers. "You're okay." Plankton's eye moved around the room, his hands flapping slightly. "The... the...the...spoons," he repeats. Karen's face relaxes into understanding. "Echolalia," she whispers to Chip and Timmy. "It's a way his brain reboots after a seizure." Timmy nods, his gaze still on Plankton. "I know about that," he says. "It's like my brain's playing back a tape of everything that's happened, trying to make sense of it." Plankton's voice gradually gains clarity. "The spoons...they...they're..." Chip watches, his heart in his throat, as his dad's hand still flutters in the air, his eye unfocused. "It's a sensory thing," Karen says, keeping her voice low. "Sometimes, his brain gets overwhelmed." Plankton's voice grows stronger, the words more random. "The...the...did," he says, his hand moving in patterns that seem to have a rhythm only he can understand. "They were...were...were..." Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's, her gaze full of patience and love. "Just breathe, baby," she says, her voice soothing. "Take your time.." Timmy watches, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What's he saying?" He whispers. "It's okay," Karen reassures both Timmy and Chip. "It's just his brain trying to find it's bearings. Just let him find his way back." Plankton's words become more nonsensical, his hand still moving through the air as his voice cracks. "They...they were...were..." His eye flickers, and he swallows hard. "They were always...always..." Timmy's eyes never leave Plankton's, his gaze filled with understanding and compassion. He's been here before, in his own way. His hands start to move slightly again, as if he's trying to connect with Plankton's thoughts. "It's okay," he whispers. "You don't have to push." But Plankton's voice doesn't listen. "They were always...always... were...were...pats," he says, his hand moving in a pattern that makes no sense to him. Chip feels his heart break for his dad. This isn't the first time he's seen a seizure, but every time, it's like watching a piece of Plankton get taken away, leaving behind a man who's lost in his own world. Timmy, though, seems to understand. He reaches out his own hand, mirroring Plankton's movements. "It's okay," he says again. "We're here for yo-" But Plankton isn't listening. "They were always...were...pats," he repeats, his voice getting louder. "They were always pats!" He starts to chuckle. "Pats, pats, pats!" His hand hits the bed. Karen smiles sadly. "Plankton, I see you," she says, her voice a whisper. "You'll come back to us." Chip watches, his heart racing. Timmy's eyes are wide with understanding. He's seen this before in himself. "It's okay," he says, his voice calm. "You can come back whenever you're ready." Plankton's hand still flaps. "I'm here, Mr. Plankton," Timmy says. "You're not al—" But Plankton's voice rose in pitch. "The...tck...tck..." He's ticcing now, Chip realized. Each syllable punctuated with a sharp, staccato twitch of his face. "Tck...tck...tck..." Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens slightly, her eyes full of love and understanding. "You're okay," she murmurs, her voice steady. "Just let it out. It's okay." Karen turns to them. "This helps him," she whispers. "It's like...like releasing pressure." Timmy nods, his own hands still in his lap. "I get tics too," he says, his voice barely audible. "But not like that." He looks at Chip. "Sometimes it's ju—" But then, with a blink, Plankton comes back to himself. He looks around the room, confused. "What...what happened?" He asks, his voice slurred. Karen smiles gently. "You had a seizure, sweetie," she says. "But you're okay now."

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 14 The seizure seems to last an eternity, each second stretching into a minute. "Just keep talking to him. That's all we can do. Keep the drawing out of his line of sight," Karen instructs, her hands steady and calm. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his father's face. "It's ok, Dad," he repeats as he folds up the paper. Plankton's body stiffens then relaxes, the seizure passing into the postictal phase. His single eye opens slowly, unfocused. Karen holds his hand, her voice calm. "You're okay, you're safe," she repeats. Plankton's speech is slurred, a child- like lilt to his words. "Yi," he says. "Loog?" He looks around, confusion clouding his features. Chip's heart breaks, but he knows what to do. "Hi, Dad," Chip says, his voice gentle. "You had a seizure, but it's over now. You're safe." Plankton's eye widens, trying to to sit up, but Karen eases him back down. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his forehead. "Easy, love. We're right here." Plankton's eye darts around the room, his speech coming out in jumbles. "Ka...ken... Utz...?" His voice cracks, and Chip's heart swells with love and fear. "It's okay, Daddy," Chip says, his voice steady. "You're safe. I'm sorry if I hu-" But Plankton cuts him off, his speech still slurred, his thoughts scattered. "Ha... happy? Haff... h-elp?" Karen's heart breaks as she sees the fear in his eye. "Yes, darling," she says, her voice soothing. "We're here to help. It's okay." She turns to Chip. "Can you get a stim toy?" Chip nods, quickly retrieving a soft, squishy ball from the shelf. He brings it over, placing it gently by Plankton's hand. "Dad, look," Chip says, showing Plankton the ball. "Can you hold it?" Plankton's hand reaches for the ball, his movements slow and clumsy. He squeezes it tentatively, his face contorting as if trying to remember what it's for. His eye is glazed, and his voice slurred. "Buh," he says. Karen nods at Chip. "Good," she whispers. "Keep it up." Chip takes a deep breath. "Can you roll the ball over?" Plankton looks at his hand. "O... kay," he says, his voice thick with confusion. He rolls the ball to Chip, his eye following its path. "Ba... baball," he mumbles. Chip's eyes well up with tears but he forces a smile. "That's right, Dad," Chip says, his voice shaky but hopeful as he rolls the ball back to him again. "It's a ball. You can roll it back to me." The simple act of interaction seems to help Plankton. He rolls the ball to Chip, antennae twitching slightly. "Ga... game?" he asks, his voice still out of it. Chip nods, his smile growing. "Yeah, Dad," he says. "We're playing catch. Just like we always do. Do you remembe---" But Plankton's eye glazes over again, his hand dropping the stim toy. "G-game," he stammers, his speech jumbled. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice soothing despite his concern. "You're safe now." He picks up the ball, rolling it back to his father gently. Plankton watches the ball's journey with sluggish curiosity, his eye still unfocused. "M-make... it... go?" His hand reaches out, his grip unsteady as he tries to roll the ball back. It wobbles before finally reaching Chip. "Good job, Dad," Chip praises, his heart heavy. "You're doing great." Karen's eyes are filled with love. "Good Chip, just keep talking to him," she whispers. Chip nods, his voice shaky. "Dad, remember we talked about how you see the world?" Plankton's single eye flickers, his antennae moving slightly. "You're so good at making things, because you notice details others don't. That's because of your autism. It's not a weakness, it's a strength." Plankton's gaze focuses a bit more, his eye searching Chip's face. "Ma... make... things?" He whispers. "Ma... make... bah?" Chip nods, his smile gentle. "You make amazing things, Dad. Your inventions are like none other because of how your brain works. It's not a bad thing," he says, trying to reassure his father. "It's what makes you, you." Plankton's hand shakes as he fumbles with the stim toy. "B-but... Ka... Chi... Utch...?" Karen sighs, her heart aching. "It's okay, love," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "We're here. You're okay." Plankton's hand continues to fumble with the ball, his movements erratic and slightly uncoordinated. "Ma... mesh... ba... baball?" he mumbles, his brain still in a state of confusion. Chip nods, his heart aching. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice filled with patience. "You just had a seizure. You need some time to recover." Karen watches as Chip interacts with Plankton, his words gentle and understanding. She's proud of how he's handling the situation, despite the fear that must be coursing through his young body. She smiles at him, giving a small nod of encouragement. Plankton's gaze shifts, his eye still not quite focused as he laughs softly. "Ma... m-m-make me," he stammers, his voice childlike in innocence. "Meeeeeee.." Karen's heart clenches at the sound of his babbling. She knows this phase all too well, the aftermath of a seizure leaving Plankton in a vulnerable, confused state. "We're right here, baby," she coos, her hand stroking his arm. She knew the neuroregression he experiences all too well.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 15 Chip's eyes are filled with worry as he watches his father's struggle. "Dad," he says, his voice soothing. "We're here. It's okay." He reaches for the ball, yet Plankton's hand flaps it away, his gaze distant. He starts to laugh again. "Ma... ma... make me happy," Plankton says, his voice a mix of confusion and joy. Karen's eyes water as she sees the innocence in her husband's gaze, his autism making his thoughts a tangled mess. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice soothing, but she plays along, knowing it's part of his post-seizure state. "Yes, love," she says. Plankton giggles, his hands flapping slightly. "Ma... me... make... happy," he repeats, his eye locking onto the squishy ball. It's a sight that makes Chip's heart ache, but he joins in, his voice gentle. "We're playing catch, remember?" He rolls the ball back to Plankton, who's hand reaches for it again, his movements more purposeful now. His fingers graze the toy, his laughter subsiding. "Ga... good?" he says, his voice a soft echo. Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yes, baby," she says. "You're doing so good." Plankton's hand closes around the ball, his grip firming as he tries to focus, his antennae twitching slightly as he starts fully coming back, groaning as he leans on to his hands. He gets himself upright, a bit confused/disoriented. Chip's heart races as he sees his father's condition improve. "Dad," he says, his voice filled with hope. "Do you want to sit down?" Plankton looks at his son, his eye blinking slowly as he tries to process the words. "Sit... down?" he repeats. Karen nods, gesturing to the bed. "What happened?" he asks, his voice weak but growing more clear. Karen sighs, her hands shaking slightly. "You had a seizure, honey," she says, her voice gentle. "But it's over now." Plankton's eye widen slightly as he looks around the room, his mind slowly piecing together the events. "Oh," he murmurs, his hand moving to his head. "The... drawing?" Karen nods, her voice soft. "You got upset. You had a seizure." Plankton looks down at the folded paper, his expression a mix of embarrassment and anger. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm s-sorry." Chip's eyes widen, his heart racing. "Dad, I just wanted to make you feel better." Plankton's gaze meets Chip's, his expression filled with remorse. "I know," he says, his voice a mere murmur. "But sometimes, it's just... too much." He sighs, his body still trembling slightly. "I didn't mean to..." Karen wraps an arm around Plankton, her eyes filled with love and understanding. "It's okay," she whispers. "We know." She turns to Chip, her expression earnest. "Your dad's brain works differently, Chip. It's not his fault. And, it's not your fault for trying to be nice. We all just need to find better ways to support each other." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know it'd be rude, I just made it to show how much I care." Plankton's gaze softens slightly, his antennae twitching as he processes his son's words. "I know you did, buddy," Plankton says, his speech still slurred. "But autism isn't a costume or a game. It's how I am." He takes a deep breath, his hand finding Karen's. "It's hard for me to explain sometimes. It's just... it's complicated." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears. "But you're still my hero," he says, his voice shaky. "And I'll always love you no matter wh-" But Plankton cuts him off, his voice firm. "I understand," he says, his antennae flattening. "I l-love y-you too. Yet I'm not... I'm not okay with this right now." Karen looks at Chip, her gaze pleading. "Honey, why don't you sit down? Let your dad have a moment." Chip nods, his eyes brimming with tears. He sits on the edge of the bed, his heart racing as he watches his father. Plankton's eye is now focused, but the exhaustion is palpable. "I just want to make sure you're okay," Chip says, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't want you to be up-" But Plankton shakes his head. Karen sighs. "Chip, he's okay. He just needs his own moment. He's not up to talking right now." Chip nods, his eyes still on his father. Chip watches as his dad's face twists into an expression of sadness. "It's not a game," he murmurs, talking to himself as Karen recognized it as his stim. "I know," Chip says quickly. "But it's part of who you are. And that's am-" "Chip," Karen interrupts, her tone firm but gentle. "Come sit by me on my bed," Karen says, getting off Plankton's bed. Chip does so, sitting on the bed placed adjacent. "Chip," Karen begins quietly, "Your dad's talking to himself in a stim, and it's not for us to interrupt. He's in his own personal space, and he dislikes that right now. Remember, his stims are only for him and we shouldn't make a fuss about it. It's his way, and he personally gets frustrated when we needlessly interrupt." Chip nods, his throat tight with unshed tears. "I just don't want him to be sad," he says, his voice quivering. Karen hugs him close. "I know, baby," she whispers. "But sometimes, it's okay for people to be sad. And sometimes, the best thing we can do is just let them be. We can't fix everything. All his emotions are valid." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. He whispers, "I'll always be here for you, Dad." Plankton's antennae twitch as he hears his son's words, his stimming pausing briefly. He looks over, his eye meeting Chip's. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I... I just n-need a moment." Chip nods, his heart swelling with love and regret.

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 4 "Plankton, please," Karen pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm. "Let's ta—" But Plankton's eye starts to glaze over, his body trembling on his bed. Karen knew another seizure's coming on now. "Dad?" Chip's voice was filled with fear and confusion. "I'm here," Karen assured. She rushed to his side. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're safe, Plankton." She knew this was part of the process, that his mind was trying to recalibrate, yet it never got easier to watch. The room grew dimmer as Plankton's seizure took hold, his body stiffening, his eye rolling back. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she watched his silent struggle. "It's okay, baby," she whispered. Chip stood there, his hands balled into fists at his sides, feeling helpless. He had never seen his dad so vulnerable before. The man he knew was always in control, always the smartest in the room, was now at the mercy of his own brain's whims. It was something that his parents had dealt with for years, something that he had only just become a witness to. Karen's eyes remained on Plankton's contorted face as the seizure's grip began to loosen, his body twitching slightly. As the seizure subsided, he's falling into a semiconscious postictal state. "Dad?" Chip's voice's filled with fear. Karen nodded, her gaze still fixed on her husband. "It's okay." Plankton's antennae twitched erratically, his body moving in jerky motions. It looked like his mind was trying to regain control of his physical form. He began to crawl on the bed. His eye's unfocused. "Hummus," Plankton babbled. Karen's heart ached as she watched his regression. Plankton's autism had always been a part of their lives, but these moments, where he slipped into his own world, were the hardest to bear. She knew he was in there, somewhere, fighting to come back. Plankton's eye darted around the room without really seeing. "Tos, sub." Karen's heart broke a little more as she witnessed her husband's descent into the child-like state that often followed his seizures. She knew it was temporary, yet the sight of this strong man reduced to such vulnerability was always jarring. "Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice quivering with fear and confusion. He had never seen his dad like this before—so lost, so dependent. Karen's eyes remained glued to Plankton's face, silently willing him to come back to them. "It's ok, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton's movements were like those of a baby discovering the world anew, his hands playing with the blankets as if they were a toy. "Hamv," he murmured. Karen's heart ached, but she knew from experience that this was a phase that would pass. She talked to him softly, her voice soothing and familiar, like a lullaby. "You're safe, Plankton," she whispered. She got a plush stuffed bear handing it to Chip. "Try to get him to interact by this," she suggests. Chip took the bear tentatively, his hands shaking slightly. He approached the bed, his dad's eyes still unfocused. "Dad?" he whispered, shaking the toy slightly. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flitting towards the bear. "Look, it's a toy," Chip said, his voice quivering. "Do you like it?" Plankton's hand reached out, his movements sluggish as if swatting the bear, his fingers exploring its soft fur. "Tibble," he murmured. Karen watched, her heart swelling with hope. This was the first step back to reality. "Good job," she said to both of them. "Keep it up, Chip. Keep talking, with the bear." Chip nodded, his voice steadier now. "It's a bear, Dad," he said, his tone gentle. "See? It's got a cute little nose. Do you want to hold it?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, and his hand reached out slowly, his fingers wrapping around the plush toy. "Sav," he says, his voice a little stronger. Karen's eyes lit up with hope. "That's it, sweetheart," she said, encouraging Chip. "Keep going." Chip held the bear closer to Plankton's face. "Look, Dad," he whispered, his voice steady despite the fear still lingering in his heart. "It's smiling at you. It's happy to see you. It wants you to be happy too. Do you want to play?" Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye focusing on the toy for a moment. He reached out again, his hand shaking slightly, and touched the bear's snout. "Ivh," he murmured, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips, resulting in drool. Encouraged, Chip continued. "It's smiling because it loves you, Dad," he said, his voice cracking. "See, it's happy because you're holding it. Can you make it dance?" "Da-dance," he managed to say, his smile broadening. Karen watched, her eyes brimming with tears of hope. "That's it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Keep going." Chip nodded, his fingers gently moving the bear's arms and legs in a makeshift dance. "Look, Dad, the bear is dancing just for you," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. Plankton's eye followed the toy's movements. Plankton's hand twitched, his antennae perking up slightly. "Dibble," he murmured, a spark of understanding in his eye. He reached out to mimic Chip's movements, his hand shaking as he tried to make the bear dance too. Chip's heart swelled with pride and love for his dad. He had never seen this vulnerable side of him before, but in this moment, he knew his father was still there, fighting to reconnect.

About Epilepsy > Understanding epilepsy > Seizure Types and Classification Seizure Types Seizure classification is a way of naming the many different types of epileptic seizures and putting them into groups. Where in the brain the seizure starts (e.g. the onset) If the person is aware or not during the seizure Whether the seizure involves movement. Seizures can be divided into three major groups. Focal onset (formerly known as partial seizures) means the seizure starts in just one small region of the brain. It may spread to other areas of the brain. These seizures can often be subtle or unusual and may go unnoticed or be mistaken for anything from being intoxicated to daydreaming. About 60% of people with epilepsy have focal onset seizures – which are also simply known as focal seizures. Focal onset seizures can be further divided into two groups relating to a person’s awareness during a seizure: Focal aware: the person is fully aware of what’s happening around them but may not be able to talk or respond (formerly known as simple partial seizures). They are usually brief, and are often called a warning or ‘aura’ (that a more significant seizure may develop) but are actually part of the seizure. Focal impaired awareness: awareness is affected (formerly known as a complex partial seizure) and the person may appear confused, vague or disorientated. A focal seizure may progress to a bilateral tonic-clonic seizure meaning that it starts in one area of the brain and then spreads to both sides causing muscle stiffening and jerking. Generalised onset means the seizure affects both hemispheres (sides) of the brain from the onset. Because of this, a person may lose cønsciøusness at the start of the seizure. Generalised onset seizures almost always affect awareness in some way, so the terms ‘aware’ or ‘impaired awareness’ aren’t used. However, they can be classified further by movement: Generalised motor seizure: may involve stiffening (tonic) and jerking (clonic), known as tonic-clonic (previously known as grand mal) or other movements Generalised non-motor seizure: These seizures involve brief changes in awareness, staring, and some may have automatic or repeated movements like lip-smacking. Types of Generalised Onset Seizures There are many types of seizures in this classification. They include: Absence – a sudden lapse in awareness and responsiveness that look like brief staring spells or daydreaming Tonic-Clonic – the body stiffens (the tonic phase) and then the limbs begin to jerk rhythmically (the clonic phase) Myoclonic – sudden single jerks of a muscle or a group of muscles that may last no more than a second or two Tonic – Can occur when a person is asleep or awake and involves a brief stiffening of the body, arms or legs. The person will suddenly fall if standing or sitting. Atonic – brief seizures that cause a sudden loss muscle tone and the person often falls to the ground or will have a sudden head nod if sitting. Clonic – although uncommon they cause jerking in various parts of the body Unknown onset means the seizure cannot be diagn0sed as either focal or generalised onset. Sometimes this classification is temporary and as more information becomes available over time or through further testing, the type of seizure may be changed to a generalised or focal onset seizure. Rarely, doctors might be sure that someone has had an epileptic seizure, but can’t decide what type of seizure it is. This could be because they don’t have enough information about the seizure, or the symptoms of the seizure are unusual. Most people will only have one or two seizure type(s), which may vary in severity. A person with severe or complex epilepsy or significant dàmage to the brain may experience a number of different seizure types. Can certain triggers set off a seizure?: Sometimes specific circumstances can increase the risk of having a seizure. These are usually called seizure triggers. Recognising these triggers can help to reduce or even avoid seizures. Some common triggers people report include lack of sleep, missed medication, fatigue, physical or emotional stress, hormonal changes and illness. What’s the best way to help someone having a tonic clonic (convulsive) seizure? 1. Stay with the person 2. Time the seizure 3. Keep them safe. Protect from ìnjury, especially the head 4. Roll into recovery position after the seizure stops (immediately if food/fluid/vomit is in møuth) 5. Observe and monitor their breathıng 6. Gently reassure until recovered 7. Call an ambulance if there is an ìnjury; if the seizure lasts for longer than five minutes; or if after the seizure ends the person is having breathıng difficulties or is non-responsive

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 6 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Hanna pulled out a notepad from her bag. "Let's try some communication exercises," she suggested. "Karen, can you ask Plankton a simple question?" Karen swallowed hard, her voice shaking slightly. "Plankton, what color is the sky?" Plankton's hand paused in its squeezing. His eye searched the room before finally meeting hers. "Sky," he murmured, his voice a little more present. "Blue. The daytime sky appears blue because air molecules scatter shorter wavelengths of sunlight more than longer ones. The blackbody spectrum of sunlight coming into th-" "Thank you," Hanna said, her tone measured. "Now, let's try again. What does the sky look like right now?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the curtains pulled back to reveal the soft blue of the early morning. "Sky," he murmured. "Blue." His hand resumed its rhythmic squeezing of the fidget toy, a silent companion to his thoughts. Hanna nodded, scribbling quick notes on her pad. "Very good, Plankton. Now, can you tell me why you don't like to be touched?" He paused, his hand still. "Touch," he said, his voice tight. "Overwhelming." Karen clenched at his word choice. "Too much," he added. "Sensory overload." Hanna nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Okay. What about sounds? Are there any sounds that bother you?" Plankton's hand stilled on the fidget toy, his gaze drifting away. "Sounds," he murmured. "Some are too loud." He paused, his brow furrowing. "The toaster," he said, his voice filled with distress. "It hurts." Hanna made another note. "We'll have to be mindful of that," she said. "And what about light?" Plankton's hand resumed its squeezing. "Light," he murmured. "Sometimes too bright, if sudden." Hanna nodded, her expression sympathetic. "It's ok," she said. "We'll make sure the lights aren't too harsh. Now, Plankton, can you tell us what you enjoy doing?" He looked up at them, his eye searching their screens. "Read," he murmured, his voice gaining a tiny bit of animation. "Books, knowledge." "Okay," she said, her voice steady. "I'm going to set a tablet in front of you, to gauge your reactions to different sounds and sights." They sat at the dining table, Plankton's eye flicking to the new device. Hanna had downloaded various apps to help with sensory integration. "Remember, you can tell us if anything makes you uncomfortable. We're just going to start with some simple patterns and sounds." The screen lit up with colorful shapes, moving slowly and predictably. Plankton's hand stilled on the fidget toy. His eye followed the patterns, his expression unreadable. "Good," Hanna murmured, her finger swiping the screen. "Let's try some more different sights now." The patterns on the screen then shifted to a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. Plankton's eye grew wide, his hand frozen on the fidget toy. Karen watched as his gaze locked onto the screen, his body going rigid. "Plankton?" she asked, a hint of alarm in her voice. But he didn't respond. His eye remained unblinking, unmoving. Hanna's hand shot out, her finger pressing the screen to pause the app. "It's ok," she murmured. "Take deep breaths." But Plankton didn't move, his body eerily still. "What's happening?" Karen whispered, her voice trembling. Hanna's eyes darted to her notepad, scribbling furiously. "Absence seizure," she murmured. "It's common with autism. It's like his brain has gone on pause." Karen's chest tightened as she watched Plankton's unblinking eye. "What do we do?" "Stay calm," Hanna said, her voice steady. "Let it run its course. It'll be over soon." Karen's hand hovered over Plankton's shoulder, wanting to comfort him, but she held back, afraid to trigger something worse. The silence in the room was deafening, only punctuated by the soft ticking of the wall clock. Each second felt like an eternity as she waited for Plankton to come back to them. Suddenly, his eye twitched, and the tension in his body began to ease. He blinked, his gaze returning to the present, and took a deep, shaky breath. "Plankton?" Karen asked, her voice a whisper. He looked at her, his expression confused. "Are you ok?" Hanna stepped in, her voice calm and soothing. "It's all right. You just had a little seizure. It happens sometimes." Plankton's hand tightened on the fidget toy, his gaze flitting between Karen and Hanna. "Seizure," he murmured, his voice a little shaky. "Why?" Hanna's hand paused over her notepad, her expression compassionate. "It's part of the autism spectrum," she said, carefully choosing her words. "Sometimes the brain gets overwhelmed and needs a brief rest. It's nothing to be scared of, but we'll keep an eye on it. How did you feel in that moment?" Plankton took a moment to consider, his hand still squeezing the fidget toy. "Went away," he murmured. "Everything went away, yet it was all... too much. Felt like... dizzy in a blender." Hanna nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It's like your brain was trying to process too much, and it needed a moment to reset." She made another note. "We'll need to test sounds." They moved to the living room, where Hanna had set up a speaker. "We're going to play some noises," she said. "Tell us if any are too loud or bother you." The first sound was a gentle rainfall. Plankton's antennae twitched but he remained calm. Hanna made a note. "Good," she murmured. Next, she played a recording of people talking fast over one another. Plankton's hand squeezed the fidget toy until his knuckles whitened. "Too much," he whispered, his voice strained as he felt another absence seizure coming on. Karen's eyes grew wide with concern. "Stop," she said, her voice firm. "That's enough." Hanna nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. She reached over and turned off the speaker. "It's ok," she soothed. "We're going to take this slow." She made a note of the reaction before looking at Karen. "We need to build his tolerance, but not push him past his limits. Let's try tactile whenever his seizure completely stops."

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 9 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Chip's gaze went to his dad, his confusion morphing into concern. "What's wrong?" Plankton's eye darted to Chip. "Wh-what do you mean?" he stuttered, his defensiveness a clear sign of his internal turmoil. "Why do you think anything's wrong?" He says to Chip. Chip looked at him, his eyes filled with innocence. "You just...you're acting di-" "I'm not!" Plankton snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet room. He felt the weight of his fidget toy in his hand. "I'm fine!" he insisted, his antennae twitching with agitation. Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise. "Dad?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's broke at the sight of her son's confusion. "It's ok," she tried to say, but Plankton's anger was palpable. "I'm not acting any way!" Plankton's voice grew louder, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Don't patronize me!" His antennae shook with the intensity of his emotions, and Karen could see the fear and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Chip took another step back, his eyes wide with shock. "But you always give me hugs," he said, his voice small. "What happened?" Plankton's face contorted with frustration. "I don't know," he said, his voice rising. "I just can't... I can't handle it right now, ok?" He threw the fidget toy across the room, the plastic smacking against the wall. "Leave me alone!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his voice shaking. "But, Dad, I missed yo-" "I said leave me alone!" Plankton's voice boomed, the stress of the past week exploding out of him. His body was a coiled spring, ready to snap. Karen's chest ached as she watched the scene unfold, torn between her love for Plankton and her need to comfort their son. "It's okay," she murmured, stepping towards them. "Let's all just take a moment." Chip's screen searched hers, his expression a mix of hurt and confusion. "But, Dad, I just-" "I said leave me alone!" Plankton's voice was a thunderclap, cutting off Chip's words. His body was rigid, his antennae quivering with agitation. Karen felt his pain, knew his fear of being exposed, of being seen as lesser than before. She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched. "Plankton, please," she whispered. But Chip didn't get it. "Dad?" Chip's voice was trembling, his eyes brimming with tears. "What's happening?" He looked so lost, so small in that moment. Plankton's chest heaved with heavy breaths, his eye avoiding Chip's gaze. "It's...it's nothing," Plankton stuttered, trying to control his voice. He knew his behavior was erratic, but the fear of being discovered was too great. Chip looked at him, his expression a blend of confusion and hurt. "But you're not fine," he said, his voice shaking. "You're acting..." Plankton's anger grew, his eye flashing. "I'm fine!" he insisted, his voice a whisper-shout. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling!" He couldn't bear the thought of his son seeing him as broken, as someone to pity. Chip's lip trembled, his eyes filling with tears. "But you're not acting like yourself," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Karen's ached for both of them. Plankton's face grew tight, his body coiled with tension. "What do you know?" he snapped. "You're just a ki—" "What do you mean I don't know?" Chip's voice grew louder. "I live with you, I know you better than anyone else! And you're just making excuses for acting like this!" His screen flushed with emotion, and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. "So don't call me a kid when you're the one throwing a fit like one!" Plankton's eye widened, his anger a stark contrast to the calmness he'd been trying to maintain. "How dare you!" he snapped. "Yo--" Chip's voice grew stronger, cutting through Plankton's words. "How dare I? You're the one shouting!" Chip's voice trembled, his own frustration and fear bubbling to the surface. "I don't know what's happening to you, but me and Mom are both pretty much sick of you and your precious little temper tantrums! So you can either decide to tell us what's going on or keep acting like this," Chip's voice broke, as Plankton sat down with ringing in his ears, "but I'm not gonna keep pretending like we care about yo-" But before Chip could finish his sentence, Plankton's body stiffened, his eye glazed over. "Plankton?" Karen asked. But there was no response. Chip felt fear. "Dad?" he whispered, reaching out tentatively. Karen recognized the signs of Plankton's overwhelm. "Chip, step back," she said, her voice calm yet firm. As Plankton's body stiffened, Chip's eyes were wide with terror, his hand hovering in the air, unsure of how to help. "It's ok," Karen whispered, her voice a steady beacon in the storm of Plankton's seizure. "Just wa- Chip, no, it's ok," Karen says, her voice soothing as she tries to keep the situation calm. She knew from the other day's experience that Plankton might not remember this, that he was somewhere else in his mind, disconnected from the world around him. Karen remained composed, ready to catch him if he fell. Chip watched, his own fear mirroring the scene before him. "D-dad?" he stuttered, his voice shaking. Chip's eyes were on his father, his young mind trying to understand. Plankton's body remained rigid, his eye vacant. The room was a tableau of tension, the silence deafening. Karen knew this moment all too well now, the moment when Plankton slipped into dizzy/lightheaded daze, leaving them behind. She took a deep breath, willing her nerves to calm, her hand reaching for Chip's to guide him away from his dad. Chip's eyes were glued to his father, a silent tear tracking down his screen. Karen wrapped her arm around him, pulling him gently to the side. "It's ok," she murmured, her voice a balm. "Dad's just... he's just having a moment." They watched as Plankton's body went slack, his hand dropping the fidget toy. Chip's gaze followed it as it bounced off the floor, the plastic clattering against the wood. "What's happening?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "It's ok," Karen said, squeezing Chip's hand tightly. "Dad's having a moment." She guided Chip to the couch. "Just wait here." With gentle but firm steps, Karen approached Plankton, his body still frozen in the grip of the seizure. She knew not to move him, not to shake him out of it. Instead, she talked to him in a calm, soothing voice, keeping the room's energy low. "You're safe," she murmured. "We're right here." But Chip is to curious. Chip's gaze remained fixed on Plankton, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Is he ok?" he whispered, his voice trembling. Karen's went out to him, knowing this was the first time he'd seen his father like this. "It's called an absence seizure," Karen explained, sitting beside Chip. "It's like his brain takes a little break." Her voice was calm, trying to reassure her son. "It's part of his, h-his life now." Chip stared at his dad, his chest tight with fear. "Is he gonna be ok?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Yes," she said. "But it's important we stay calm." "Mom what's..." "It's because of an accident," she said, her voice gentle. Chip's eyes widened with horror. "An accident? What happened?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she'd been dreading. "Dad had a fall," she said, her gaze firmly on Plankton. "It hurt his brain." Chip's gaze went back to his father, his expression a mix of shock and sadness. "Will he get better?" Karen's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her son, his innocence a stark contrast to the harsh reality they faced. "It's... different," she said, swiping at her screen. "It's not like a bruise that will heal. But we can help him, we can learn to live with it." Chip nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "How?" he asked, his voice small. "So is he..." "He's still your dad," Karen whispered, her eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "But now, we just have to love him a little differently. I'll let him tell you more when he's ready." Chip's screen searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Ok," he managed, his voice thick with uncertainty. Plankton's seizure ended nearly abruptly as it had begun. He blinked, his gaze returning to the room gradually. His hand searched for the fidget toy, his hand reaching out instinctively. Karen picked it up from the floor, handing it to him. "You're ok," she said, her voice soothing.

𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣 Pt. 4 by NeuroFabulous They found Chip sitting on the floor of his room. Karen knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame. "It's ok Chip," she whispered. "Dad didn't mean to scare you." Plankton sat on the edge of the bed, his body still shaky from his meltdown. He watched his wife and son with a mix of love and despair. He didn't know how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between them. Karen sat beside him, her hand on his arm, her gaze filled with understanding. "We need to talk to Chip," she said gently. "He's scared, Plankton. He just needs to know what's go—" But Plankton was already spiraling, his chest tightening as the fear of the unknown consumed him. His eye was wide, his breaths quick and shallow. He clutched at his chest, his heart racing. "I can't." The room spun around him, his stims turning into a full-blown panic attack. Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the fear and desperation. She knew this was a moment they couldn't ignore. "Plankton, you can do this," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "We're going to te-" But Plankton's panic was too intense. His body began to shake, his breaths coming in quick, sharp gasps. He couldn't control his stims. "I CAN'T!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. His antennae twitched erratically, his body contorting in an effort to escape the overwhelming anxiety. Chip's eyes grew wider at his father's distress. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he wanted to help. He scoots closer, reaching for Plankton's hand. "Dad?" he whispered. The touch was like electricity to Plankton. He jolted, his panic escalating, his body thrashing uncontrollably. Karen held Chip back, knowing that Plankton's flailing limbs could accidentally harm him. "Daddy," Chip called out, his voice trembling. Karen saw the fear in Chip's eyes. "Chip," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around them, "Dad's having a bad seizure. He gets them sometimes because his brain is working extra hard. We need to stay calm, let him have his space." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's convulsing form. He didn't understand why his dad's brain would do this to him, but he knew he had to be brave. The room was silent except for the harsh sound of Plankton's labored breaths. Karen's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. This was a side of Plankton she had shielded Chip from for so long. But now, there was no hiding it. She knew that the conversation they had been avoiding was now inevitable. The seizure raged on, Plankton's body jerking and twitching with an intensity that made Karen's own body ache in empathy. She watched his face, contorted in pain, and wished she could take it away, wished she could explain to their son what was happening. But Chip's innocence shattered by the scene before him. His tears fell silently, mixing with the fear in his eyes as he stared at his dad. Plankton's body jerked wildly, his stims a silent scream for help. The room was a blur of movement and noise, his sounds filling the air like a cacophony of distress. Karen held Chip tightly, his small body trembling against hers. "It's ok, Dad's brain just needs a moment to calm down," she murmured. Plankton's seizure eventually subsided. Karen remained by his side, her eyes never leaving his face as she whispered soothing words. "You're ok," she murmured. "You're safe." Plankton's eye flitted open, unfocused and glassy. The room was quiet, the only sound being his own labored breaths. He looked around Chip's bedroom. "Wha-wha-wha?" he stuttered, his voice still thick with his postictal state. Karen and Chip stared at him, their faces filled with a mix of fear and relief. Plankton's mind was still racing, trying to catch up with reality. "Wha-wha-wha?" he repeated, his mouth forming words that didn't make sense. Karen took his hand, her eyes filled with love and patience. "You had a seizure, Plankton," she said softly. "But you're coming out of it now." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, his brain trying to piece together the fragments of what had happened. Plankton's tremors had evolved into a loop of silly sounds and gestures. He giggled, his eye crossing slightly as he waved his arms in the air. "Hi, buddy," he said, his voice slurred and childlike. Chip stared at him, not knowing how to react. "You're okay, Dad?" Chip ventured, his voice shaky. Plankton looked at him, his face a mask of confusion and child-like innocence. He giggled again. Chip watched his dad, his heart pounding. The silly sounds and movements were so unlike him. It was like watching a stranger in his dad's body. "What's going on?" Chip asked, his voice trembling. "Is he okay?" Karen nodded, her eyes filled with both love and sadness. "It's called postictal delirium," she said softly. "It can happen after a seizure. His brain is just trying to reboot." Plankton looked at them both, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm a... I'm a... root?" Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears. "No, honey, you're not a root," she said, her voice gentle. "You're just a bit mixed up right now." Chip watched his dad, his mind racing. He had never seen him act so... so weird. "But Dad," he stammered, "you're not a root.." Plankton chuckles, his eye glazed over. Karen's smile grew sadder. "It's okay," she reassured Chip, her voice steady. "This is just a phase, it will pass. His brain is just trying to get back to his normal." Plankton's legs pushed his body to his side as drool formed at the corner of his mouth. Chip looked to his mom for guidance, his eyes pleading for explanation. Karen's heart ached watching her husband's mind struggle to find his footing. She knew this was a normal part of his recovery, but it was hard not to feel a pang of sadness at his vulnerability. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice calm and steady. "See, his brain is still trying to wake up," she explained, her voice calm and soothing. "It's like he's in a dream, and we just have to wait for him to come back to us." Chip studied his father's face, his mind racing to understand. "But why is he acting like that?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. "It's part of his recovery," Karen said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Sometimes after a big seizure, his brain needs a bit of time to get itself sorted out. He might say or do things that don't make sense. It's like his brain is playing catch-up." Plankton rolled onto his stomach, trying to crawl around on the bed. Chip watched, his heart racing. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Karen couldn't help but chuckle through her own tears. It was a sight to see his normally stoic demeanor so playfully distorted. "Wormy wormy," Chip repeated tentatively, a tiny smile playing on his lips despite the fear that still lingered. Plankton crawled to Chip, drooling still, his eye still glazed over. Karen watched the interaction with a bittersweet smile, heart torn between laughing at Plankton's silliness and crying for the reality behind it. "That's right, buddy," she said, her voice soft. Chip laughed too, though the fear in his eyes hadn't fully dissipated. His dad's normally stern face was a picture of joyful confusion, his movements those of a playful puppy. "Daddy, what's so funny?" Chip asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Plankton giggled, his limbs flailing. "Tickle monster," he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and slurred. He reached out and poked Chip in the hand, his movements uncoordinated but playful. Chip stifled a laugh, his fear slowly giving way to amusement. "Dad," he said, his voice gentle, "you're not a tickle monster." But Plankton's reaching for Chip again. "Tickle monster, tickle monster," he repeated, his voice growing more insistent. Chip felt a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside him. He was still scared, but there was something endearing about his dad's newfound silliness. Chip giggled. "Dad, stop," he protested, but his laughter betrayed his enjoyment. Karen herself watched from the edge of the bed, her own smile growing. She knew whenever Plankton fully came back to himself, he'd be completely humiliated to find himself like this.