"Day One, 8:45 AM." We're in the NICU, presumably filled with babies presumably created in the image of the most deadly and nefarious villain, the cause of all accidents and fatal problems: Rex the Wonder Preemie. A prissy med student is leading Abby through the NICU, giving her the bullet on various patients. "Who names their kid 'Humphrey'?" Abby snarks. This pisses off Miss Priss, who doesn't much care for humor, and from the look on her face seems to hope one of the bullets she's giving will embed itself somewhere terminal in Abby's intestines. She puts Abby in her place by rattling off some confusing jargon that leaves Abby sputtering.
Neela is getting all of Lester's patients. But none of his patience: she had hoped to get flow charts and index cards to keep track of each baby, whereas Lester preferred to file all his information informally in his brain, and this wigs out control-freak Neela to the point where she's a half-second from cracking open Lester's skull and raping it of the relevant portions. Lester shrugs that his final patient doesn't need any paperwork -- he's a vegetable, because Rex the Wonder Preemie decided he wanted a nice crisp salad. The kid's mother is hoping for a miracle, even after two months and $2 million in medical bills. Holy shit, that's an expensive salad. Neela looks over at the kid's incubator, or whatever it is -- I don't know what they're called, so I'm going with that -- and sees a prayer group keeping vigil. "They're here every day," Lester says. "He's a paperweight. There's nothing to do."
Abby grabs Neela for rounds. "Thank you for joining us," drawls a sassy woman who introduces herself as Dr. Raab. She's the NICU Attending, and she lays out the rules: scrub for three minutes before entering; no jewelry allowed; cut your fingernails; etc. Except that they're all already inside, haven't scrubbed for three minutes, and are wearing rings. Yes, those rules are as iron-clad as a peanut-butter sandwich. Dr. Raab then explains that, in 1993, two babies were abducted from the NICU. "That explains the LoJacks around their little ankles," cracks Matt. Raab explains that the NICU requires a code to open the doors -- a code they aren't allowed to reveal to anyone. "I tattooed mine on my scrotum," Matt deadpans, grinning broadly. "No one will ever see it there." Certainly not if he keeps wearing that stellar combination of pink shirt and blue tie. I for one wouldn't tap the ass of a guy dressed like a roll of SweetTarts. Although, come to think of it, my sister really likes SweetTarts.... Raab scolds Matt for his incessant stand-up routine, pointing out that the NICU is a tough room. She apparently doesn't think dying babies are a laugh riot. What is her problem? There is NOTHING funnier than a life snuffed out in its early days. For a second I thought I was watching Scrubs.
Now for rounds: a fellow student named Kate introduces thirty-eight-week-old Lloyd, who has TTN; Abby whispers to Neela that she doesn't know what that is, so Neela not only rattles off the answer but lists the potential problems. Raab hears this and is impressed. As Kate continues presenting, Abby wonders aloud why they're not attempting to speak quietly in the midst of other parents. Raab replies that there's no such thing as confidentiality in the NICU: "The quieter we talk, the harder they listen." Then a sour-faced older blonde nurse nudges in and asks Kate if she's named Lloyd yet. Raab introduces the woman as Virgie, whose ridiculous moniker might explain why she's so obsessed about re-christening people. She scrawls "THOR" onto a piece of tape and slaps it onto Lloyd's incubator. Raab says they like to give all the babies tough-sounding names: "Hard to fight with a name like Lloyd." Lloyd twitches, as if to say, "Fuck THIS noise -- either name is going to get me beaten up in school, so I'm screwed from the start."
“ I sort of wish Dr. Raab had given us some supporting data as to why they did ECMO, but at the same time, it's a moot point, because Inga's pretty much a carrot now to be used in Rex's tasty Salade NICU-oise. ”
When Neela gets upstairs, she finds Matt standing over Inga's body. "Major brain bleed," he says. "Are you sure?" gasps Neela. He nods and says they have to take her off the machine, or she'll just get worse. Neela is left staring blankly at Inga, while a concerned Abby waits behind her. "I talked them into it," Neela gasps. Abby points out that, as smart as Neela might be, nothing could convince Dr. Raab to authorize ECMO unless it really was the only thing. I sort of wish Dr. Raab had given us some supporting data as to why they did ECMO, but at the same time, it's a moot point, because Inga's pretty much a carrot now to be used in Rex's tasty Salade NICU-oise.
Inga starts to seize, and Neela tells Virgie to give her a shot of Ativan. Virgie refuses, because Neela's a med student, and Virgie's a stiff. Angrily, Neela points out that both Matt and Raab are away, and that Inga needs the medicine, and they all know it, so Virgie should shut her fat yap and adjust the pole up her ass, thereby making more room for her to shove her useless objections up there. Abby -- gripped by assertiveness and sass -- charges over there and administers the shot herself. "I'm telling Raab," Virgie simpers. "You do that," Abby snaps. "She'll kick you off the rotation," Virgie warns. Abby points out that Raab can kick Abby off, but that Neela didn't do anything wrong. Virgie stalks away as Neela crosses her arms and slumps against the wall, bitterly wondering what she can tell the parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Tseng, I'm sorry, I screwed up. Inga's brain is toast," she cracks. Abby tells her to knock it off, and to go home and let Dr. Raab talk to the Tsengs. "They should hear it from me," Neela says stubbornly. "You're a med student. I think the Attending can handle it. Just GO," Abby barks. Wounded, Neela turns around and wanders aimlessly through the NICU, picking up speed and urgency as she grabs her purse and coat and charges to the doors. Frantically, she punches in her code; it doesn't work. "Excuse me, can someone get the door please?" she says, knocking on the glass as tears trickle from her eyes. "Hello? Anyone?" she gulps, crying in earnest. "Get me the hell out of here!" We fade to black wondering how Neela got this far in medical school if she's so easily bothered by the idea that, sometimes, shit gets fucked up and stays that way.
"Day Seventeen, 3:15 PM." Dirk is ready to go home. As Mr. Tseng fusses over him, Mei Fan stares morosely and vacantly at Inga. Apparently, her lungs are at least getting a little stronger, but they won't know how bad the brain damage is until Rex stops tap-dancing on it. "She's a strong girl," Mei Fan sniffles. "Yes, she is," Neela says firmly.
“ Abby insists that Jake is tough and that he'll get through it. Man, she knows Fate is trying to lose weight -- why does she insist on waving cake under its nose? ”
Abby is giving a new mother a pained look as she explains that, although "Cher" is a lovely name, she might want to reconsider spelling it "Chair." Abby should read some sports rosters -- "Chair" is nothing to "Anfernee." Walking away with a shake of her head, Abby sighs, "Poor Chair." Matt quips, "Unless she meets a nice Ottoman someday." Then he cheerfully asks if anyone's heard any funny dead baby stories lately. Matt is like Coop with half the looks, Lester with half the quirk, and Malarkey with twice the inappropriate. He's a real witch's brew of mediocrity. "Here's a good one," Neela snaps, rattling off all the things that are wrong with Inga. "She's not dead, but she might never wake up. It's a real laugh." Her voice is a knife. "Bad day, Neela?" Raab asks dryly. Neela rants that they spent millions trying to save babies who mostly end up dying anyway. She doesn't know why they bother. Raab explains that forty years ago, Inga wouldn't even have had a chance, and that in many countries that's still the case. "We saved her so she can enjoy a lifetime of seizures, chronic lung disease, cerebral palsy -- it's a real advance," Neela snarks. She's being outright disdainful and completely bitter. It's sort of strange. Raab shrugs that there are no guarantees in this line of work. "If you can't live with that, I suggest you become a bank teller," she says icily. Matt whispers, "Don't listen to her -- my cousin's a bank teller, and she got held up at gunpoint last year."
There's a quick bit here where Abby removes an IV for someone, just to show that she's competent. There's some banter with Virgie, but I've grown tired of her and have decided not to feature her in the rest of the recap. Such is the power on which I'm drunk.
Jacob's sats take a dive, so Mrs. Kyle freaks. Abby examines him, realizes that he's septic, and quickly explains to Kyle and Mrs. Kyle that "sepsis" is a blood infection that can come on quickly. He'll need antibiotics and an intubation. "We were talking about going home," mutters Mrs. Kyle. Abby insists that Jake is tough and that he'll get through it. Man, she knows Fate is trying to lose weight -- why does she insist on waving cake under its nose?
, we're treated to the intercutting of Abby and Jake with Neela getting her photo taken with the joyous Tsengs, as they prepare to take Dirk home. As Raab supervises, Abby swiftly and cleanly intubates. Mr. Tseng smiles to Neela that they're going to keep calling the baby "Dirk," because the name brought him luck. He thanks her, and then sharply calls for Mei Fan to follow him out. She lingers, so he grabs Dirk in an effort to hasten things. Mei Fan shoots a lingering glance at Inga and observes that it will be strange to leave. "It'll be great. You'll love having him home," Neela smiles. "I know you're right. Bye Neela," Mei Fan says pointedly. "See you tomorrow," Neela says, totally missing the fact that Inga's bleeding brain just got smashed by an abandonment anvil. Mei Fan looks back sadly one last time, and then leaves with her husband and Dirk.