So, it's 9:58 PM. Time for ER. I flip the channel, and my finger hovers over the record button -- until I realize the episode has already started. Two. Minutes. Early. Actually, more, because I've missed the "Previously" segment and am straight inside the show. This freaks me out. I'm so agitated, in fact, that I think a Snickers bar is in order.
By the time my middle finger has retracted from its default "bird" position, and it occurs to me to actually hit "record," we're right at the end of a scene with Benton and his sister. It seems he needs Jackie to watch Reese while he works, and she accepts despite reservations about whether she's emotionally ready to care for a little boy again. Peter thanks her, signs goodbye to Reese, and kisses a shaky-looking Jackie. I love Khandi Alexander, because she was so acerbic and short-skirt risqué on Newsradio, yet she's been excellent in so many other, deeper roles since.
Heavy metal blasts through Carter's headphones. He's chillin' with Gamma, rockin' out at the manse, sweatin' with an oldie. She checks to make sure Carter is okay, and offers him aspirin. "What you need is to see my orthopedist," she clucks. Carter condescends that he doesn't need her silly doctor, and besides, he's got a half-shift to work that afternoon. "Your back is nothing to trifle with," Gamma advises. "You don't want to end up with a hunch like Uncle Everett." Shooting her an Old People are So Goofy look, Carter reminds her that this is adult back pain -- he got stabbed once, dontcha know, and he figures this is a residual twinge. Gamma pours her grandson a cup of water with which to pop aspirin, but her hand jerks subtly and she drops the glass anvil, which shatters. Carter offers to clean up, but she rightly tells him to buzz off because he's not wearing shoes. Carter decides he's got flesh of rubber, and stands up to clean the ground, and it's sort of a shame my VCR didn't miss this scene too.
In Luka's apartment, Abby "Unbreak My" Lockhart rifles through some boxes in search of her belongings. A Cake song, "Short Skirt and Long Product-Placement Segment," blares in the background, because the kids today love the rock and roll music. Abby drops a sweater into her cardboard box balanced on her hip, grabs coffee and her purse, and shuts off the stereo -- and then decides to snag a couple CDs from the rack. Passing the coatrack, she impatiently rips a jacket from it and tips the stand over in her haste; swearing, she sets everything on the ground and goes to right it, at which point she notices a crack in the fishtank. "Sh..." she says, as the credits kick in before she tops the thought off with a common two-letter pronoun. This chicanery may infringe on a David E. Kelley patent of some kind.
Mark "Stop, Or My Wife Will Shoot" Greene briskly trots down a Chicago street, pausing to let his aforementioned attachment catch up. "Maybe we should go back to taking shifts," grouches Elizabeth "Mother of Chucky" Corday. Mark teases that she looks doomed to collapse, while she bitches that the walk was supposed to wake her up after an almost sleepless night. Mark jokes that Rachel was seven before she slept through the night, to which Elizabeth snarls, "Bite your tongue." And Mark knows from experience that if he doesn't, she'll do it for him.
At Reception, Abby covertly telephones a pet store and inquires about fish tanks. Randi, who happened to be on the Warner Bros. lot for another audition, stops by long enough to notify everyone that Weaver is on the warpath. Somehow, this is news. "I'm going downstairs," growls Elizabeth. Mark calls her a chicken. Abby blathers about the aquarium again, then spies Luka down the hall and abruptly slams down the phone, which never, ever, looks cagey or suspicious. Mark notices something strange about patient charts, prompting Chuny to exposit that Weaver is compiling her own copies of patient histories all of a sudden, ordering loads of superfluous tests. Mark figures this is a colossal waste of time and resources, and Haleh agrees that Mark should do something about it before someone goes postal on Weaver. Mark straps on his pen and his Doctor Face and deems it time to treat-and-street some poor sick suckers.
Haleh leads him to Jenny, who's complaining of a bladder infection. Mark prescribes Bactrim and tells her to return in three days, plowing on down the line toward a pathetic-looking guy in a knight's costume. "Fall off your horse?" snarks Mark. "Yes, goddammit, superior bald twit!" the knight growls, plunging his sword through Mark's sternum. Sigh. My fantasy ER is a much nicer place than the real one. The knight actually explains that he toppled from his steed during the jousting contest at a Renaissance Fair; Haleh explains that Weaver wanted the knight to wait for an x-ray, but Mark figures he's better than science and orders the man to walk on his injury. "It's just a sprain," he decides, calling for a course of ice wraps and ibuprofen. "That's it?" Sir Clumsy gapes. "Normally, I'd do a bloodletting, but we're low on leeches," Mark shoots back, having stolen the last two jars for recreational crotch use because Elizabeth's jaws just don't always look terribly trustworthy. "Don't forget about me, Dr. Greene," cracks a pretty female patient lying on her stomach. "Hi, Candy!" he grins. Haleh supplies that Candy is suffering from a human bite to the buttocks. "Again?" he asks. "Some boys can't get enough Candy," she purrs. So, yeah, she's a hooker. Mark grins and orders no one in particular to prep her for suturing.
up is a boy with his hand stuck up the ass of a blue ceramic pig. Mark smiles, briefly recalling his own adolescent search for sexual answers. "Who's sick, you or the pig?" Mark jokes feebly. Bratface moans that Mark isn't funny -- correct -- and that his hand hurts, which is probably also true. "Think how the pig feels," Mark geeks. Dr. Kerry "Wuv 'er and" Weaver charges over there demanding to know what Mark is doing. "Trying to treat patients before they eat each other," he replies. Haleh cheers that he's already discharged two people. "Thank you, Haleh," Weaver praises, as if the nurse just proved her point that County General's staff is far too careless. Mark grabs some lubricant and prepares to yank off the pig. God, I enjoyed writing that sentence. Weaver frets that Mark's analysis of Jenny's bladder infection didn't include proper consideration of other, more serious conditions, but he insists it was a plain old UTI and nothing more. Bratface makes a fist, and Mark successfully performs the pigectomy. "I want all patients to be examined thoroughly," Weaver snipes. "The moment we become complacent, we make mistakes." Mark groans, "Speak for yourself," but she has already ordered Haleh to gown Jenny and prep her for a pelvic exam. It's probably a terrible idea to discuss this in front of patients who are in the act of being treated, but one could never accuse the County staff of being discreet.
Jing-Mei "Deb" Chen flags down Weaver and briefs her on a twenty-two-year-old woman with chest pains and palpitations, a normal EKG, and a pulse ox of ninety-seven. The only point of uncertainty is whether the woman's birth-control pills could complicate the situation, so Chen wants to know whether to order different tests. "I got it," Weaver says curtly. "You can look at last month's QI data." Chen protests, but Weaver grabs the chart and takes off. "Okay," Chen says, sarcastic and frustrated, shooting Weaver a really funny look that betrays her urge to throttle the boss.
Before Chen can wallow in her irritation, a pretty paramedic dashes into the ER cradling a baby in a blanket. She gives Chen the bullet: newborn female, maybe two hours old, abandoned at St. Anthony's church, cold to the touch, some peripheral cyanosis, clear airways, and a weak cry. Chen sends her to Trauma One.
In a quiet room, while they treat a knocked-out patient, Cleo "Control-Alt-Delete" Finch and Benton discuss Reese's palpable grief for his dead mother. Cleo wonders whether Benton's tried moving Reese back to his own room after he's already fallen asleep. "Doesn't matter, he still cries," sighs Peter. Reese is also suffering from horrible nightmares that he can't remember once he wakes up, and one night padded through the hallways with a flashlight looking for her. Aw! "Poor guy, he's confused!" Cleo coos. Benton morosely explains that it's just dawned on him that Reese will grow up the rest of his life without a mother, "something so basic, such a big part of who he's going to be, and there's nothing I can do about it." He should call over to General Hospital -- people come back from the dead all the time over there. Um, not that I watch, or anything. No. At that second, Dr. Dave "Hoochie-Coochie" Malucci bursts in and tells Cleo that he reduced her prolapsed rectum. Oh, so that's why she's so sullen all the time! Cleo, though, thinks he's referring to one of her patients, and is angry. "You treated my patient?" she gasps. Malucci sanctimoniously says that the girl was in a lot of pain, so he used his sugar trick -- sprinkle it on, water escapes from the mucosa, the edema subsides, and "pop that puppy back in," he explains. Benton frowns that Dr. Dave should've first made sure it wasn't a prolapsed hemorrhoid, but Malucci twinkles, "Trust me, that was no hemorrhoid." Cleo's human interface twitches, which by her standards is a show of rage.
Cleo follows Malucci out of the room and spits, "Don't treat my patients unless I ask you to." He doesn't understand. "Why? I rectified the situation," he says, smug. Cleo snorts that any idiot could shove an anus back in, but Malucci is busy snickering about his "rect-ify" pun. Weaver's Dave-dar bleeps as she notices the conflict; Cleo claims she was waiting for a surgical consult on that patient, but Malucci accuses her of "gabbing with [her] boyfriend." He doesn't know they're on a break. See? Even Malucci isn't watching the show. Weaver politely asks whether there is a problem here. "Yes," Malucci says. "I never met anyone so possessive over someone else's butthole." It's really pretty rotten of him to act like it's no big deal; his intervention does undermine Cleo's authority with her patient a tad, plus after last week, he really shouldn't be assuming his diagnostic skills excel. I know he probably just enjoys the mischief of a good sugar-on-the-distended-anus trick -- who doesn't? But this seems like horribly misplaced boldness after last week's disaster, which means the writers are desperate to make us root for his departure. Oh, and when is that? In forty-five minutes. Far be it from these scribes to give us an intelligent, slow build. Anyway, Cleo snarls for him to keep his hands off her patients, and he waves off her concern.
Abby pushes a cart down the hall, but hears Luka's voice and frantically darts into the closest room, slamming the door and exhaling shakily. "Who are you hiding from?" a voice asks. She spins around to see Carter perched on a bed, picking at his foot. Tasty! He cops to stepping on a piece of glass. Abby peers at his foot, pokes at something, and when he yelps, she concurs with his diagnosis. Snapping on her gloves, Abby figures that probing Carter's foot is the perfect way to segue into her news. "Luka and I broke up a few days ago," she tosses off, casually. Carter gulps. Of the many ways he envisioned this moment, none included his bunions -- except the one with the sock puppets, but even then, only indirectly. "Why?" he manages to sputter. "The relationship wasn't working a long time ago, but neither one of us wanted to be the first one to call it," she oversimplifies, forgetting to add that she's closed-off, never happy, not pretty, and not special, but they're just wee details, really. Carter assumes it's all amicable, but Abby coughs, "I wouldn't say that." She begins to explain why, specifically, she's avoiding Luka, but Haleh pops in and says that Chen needs him stat in Trauma One. He limps away.
Two and a half paces out of the room, Carter passes Luka. "Have you seen Abby?" he asks. "Try the lounge," Carter answers airily.
Chen orders a stream of heated, humidified oxygen to help the baby breathe. Carter charges into the room and gets the lowdown. "She needs warm IV fluids, but I can't get a line," moans Chen. The child's temperature is 91.2 degrees, and they worry when she barely responds to tactile stimuli. Chuny can't find a scalp vein. Carter thinks he's got one, and calls for 66 ccs of saline, but it backfires and the child's heart rate skyrockets to 180. "Dammit!" he curses. "Okay, this kid needs fluids right now!" Chen wants to call pedes for a procedure called a "cutdown," which is a direct incision into a minor blood vessel that facilitates the insertion of a catheter. Carter suggests they instead try going through the umbilical cord, which still hangs from the baby's belly. "I can't!" panics Chen. Carter senses that she's lost confidence in her instincts, and instead of encouraging her, decides to snark that he did one during his internship, so the Chief Resident should bloody well be able to do it, too. She freaks that it won't work if the baby is more than a few hours old, which of course they don't know; Carter counters that the complications are fewer. Calmly, he instructs her to get the kit for the umbilical cord procedure, and interestingly, he calls her "Deb." I liked this touch; it's as though he's willing her to trust him based on their history together, which he hopes will then quell her nerves. Of course, it's possible a lazy writer just got sick of typing "Jing-Mei."
Mark sets the arm cast of a street performer, who gripes that kids of yore used to think walking on stilts was all kinds of cool. Um, that was before they discovered sex, fool. Mark charitably suggests that today's youth is more sophisticated, but Stilty McDoofus bitterly proclaims the generation "vicious." Abby, assisting Mark, quietly exposits that the kids watching him ended up knocking him down. Despite my total irrelevance to anyone involved with this show, I've decided this segment is a shout-out to me and my sister, and our recent discourse about certain street performers. She will walk a mile out of her way to avoid a mime. Or a clown. Or any street performer not playing music. They just give her the creeps, and I sort of agree. Anyway, Stilty bitches that "the little buggers were cheering when I went down." He wants a doctor's note for work. Wuss. Malucci breezes past with a question for Mark, but he never asks it -- instead, his trouser radar detects a breasted paramedic in the elevator, so he sprints for its closing doors. "Medical emergency," he leers. She skeptically asks whether he's a doctor. "Yeah," he puffs. "I'm Dr. Dave." Dude, that's got to be a shout-out to the esteemed Wing Chun. ["Hey, he called himself that long before I did. I've long since given up hope of a certified shout-out. Snif!" -- Wing Chun] Malucci crosses his arms and drools on the paramedic. "So I've been warned," she sighs, uninterested. Oh, but her frosty demeanor will thaw once Dr. Dave turns up the heat in the seat of his pants.
The elevator, of course, gets stuck between floors, and the patient in the wheelchair blames it on Malucci for exceeding capacity.
Luka wheels in Jungle Bob, a homeless man who set up booby traps to protect his "territory" and then got caught in one of them. Jungle Bob is wearing camouflage clothing. Luka tells Malik to set up lateral c-spine, chest, and pelvis tests. "Abby's covering trauma," Malik apologizes, bolting. Abby winces, then groans inwardly when Mark releases her to go help Luka. Stilty is still bitching. "My friend Marty's a mime," he says. "He carries a gun." Mark is startled and hopes that's a joke. "Hell, no! Some punks love to hear the mimes scream!" insists Stilty. Is it wrong that I'm laughing, and at the concept, not the dialogue? Am I a sick bastard?
Malik informs Mark that Weaver has ordered a wound culture on Candy's butt bite. He leads the adequate doc to Candy, where we see her chatting up a teenager about moving out on her own at age ten, and that it was the best decision she ever made. Mark gapes, "Rachel?" He almost didn't recognize her, what with her being a totally different actress and all. Rachel apparently took the train from St. Louis because, she alleges, her mother booted her. "My mom kicked me out, too," Candy drawls. "Best thing that ever happened to me." Mark glares at the hooker and steers Rachel away, anxious to protect her from the reality of a life that literally bites people on the ass. Rachel actually calls Mark "Daddy," which is a sure sign she's trying to ingratiate herself.
Chen, Carter, and Chuny operate on The Baby Who Will Unite the ER. They gripe that the mother tied off the umbilical cord with a shoelace, and Chen screams, "Where the hell is pedes?" They're trying to insert a catheter, Carter talking calmly while Chen gets agitated and yells for Weaver. "What if you can't pass the catheter?" she wails. Carter confirms that the umbilical vein looks good, but Chen orders the baby's ankle to be prepped and draped just in case. Carter estimates TBWWUtER's weight at three kilos, ordering twenty units of fluid per kilo. The test works; the baby will get her treatment. "Nice work, Deb," he grins. She's all business again, barking orders; Carter smiles to himself, because men with glass in their feet are the real heroes.
Malucci gets on the horn in the stalled elevator, calling for Security. "They're working on it," he relays, hanging up. A woman swoons from the heat. "This happens all the time," Malucci lies. The wheelchair man grouses that he's pretty sure he has an ulcer. Malucci leans into Frosty and pants, "If you get scared, I'll hold you." She arches a brow and wonders what she might fear. "Plummeting to our deaths," Malucci smarms, leaning closer. Frosty basically tells him to stuff it. Ulcer suddenly moans, "I think I'm gonna be sick," and looks extremely pale, which is a natural reaction to the low caliber of Dr. Dave's pickup lines. "No one's going to be sick, no one's going to faint," Malucci barks. So naturally, Ulcer vomits bright red liquid, ostensibly blood but much closer in appearance to a gallon of Kool-Aid.
Rachel, meanwhile, obviously knows how important her father is: while he gets her a soda, she puts on headphones and cranks up the volume. Mark approaches with the drinks and blathers that he likes that song. "You listen to Abandoned Pools?" she asks, dubiously. "I do now, along with everyone else within a six-block radius," he replies. And everyone else who's smart enough to pick up the album in stores today! Seriously, is this The Soundtrack Episode? First Cake, then Abandoned Pools. Where will it end? Mark tries to be cool and talk about Led Zeppelin and how they're albums, not records, but he's boring. He offers Rachel a snack, but she snots that she's a vegetarian now. "Mom thinks it's just a phase," snaps Rachel. "Like, hel-lo, it's just a healthy lifestyle, she should try it." The kid then insists that her mother tossed all of Rachel's clothes out onto the lawn and desperately needs therapy. "She grounded me last week for being home a half-hour late," she whines. "Come on, it's summer vacation!" Instead of defending the importance of respect and rules, Mark rolls his eyes and gets up to call his ex. "Don't bother," Rachel snorts. "She's beyond reason." Mark is bothered that Rachel left without telling her mother where she'd be. Finally, someone on Rachel's level of brat approaches: Elizabeth. Mark herds her away from Rachel so that they can confer in hushed voices. Elizabeth, of course, accuses Mark of not telling her that Rachel was due for a visit. "She ran away!" Mark insists. "She and Jen are having mother-daughter issues." This is all about Elizabeth, really, so she points out that despite her poor pitiful childhood, she didn't run away, because she is a superior person. "No, your mother would've set the hounds on you," he teases. Oh, would that were so.
From above, we see Ulcer splayed on the elevator floor, blood stains on his chest and the ground. 'This man's definitely not breathing," Malucci deduces. "He needs an airway." Grabbing a tube, he instructs one of the passengers to hold it temporarily, passing it back when Malucci demands it. Then, he enlists another guy, who we'll call Flannel, to push on Ulcer's neck. Flannel looks completely disgusted by the blood and the doctoring and whatnot, but does crouch down and lay a tentative hand on Ulcer -- who repays the kindness by choking up another mouthful of Kool-Aid. "Bag him," Dr. Dave orders Flannel, who has to remind Malucci that he isn't a doctor and has no idea what "bag him" means, beyond the sexual context, and this really isn't the place for naughty time. Malucci passes Flannel the equipment and has him squeeze every three seconds. A woman starts flagging again. "Hey hey hey, I said no fainting!" Malucci barks.
In the OR, Abby finishes working with Jungle Bob. Luka orders a course of treatment. She, in turn, calls for a rigorous course of the silent treatment. Frustrated that seventh grade isn't over yet, Luka turns to leave. "Want a BAL?" she calls. "No, just a liver panel," he answers, then tentatively steps closer to her. "Um, Abby, did you find your sweater?" Luka asks. "Yeah," she says. "Good," he nods. "I thought maybe you had some trouble." Abby tenses and too-quickly spits back, "Why, why would you think that?" He just noticed she wasn't around much that morning, but of course Abby thought he caught her on the fish-tank abuse. Luka then steps into the danger zone. "I'm sorry I hurt you," he says softly. "I didn't want to hurt you." Curtly, Abby insists he didn't, but she's speaking too fast and refusing to look at him. Sadly, Luka presses, "I just want you to be happy, Abby. You never seemed happy with me." She fixates on the IV bag. "That's all I want to say," he finishes. "Well, you said it," she spits. Dejectedly, Luka slowly walks away. "So what now?" she chokes. He turns, and gazes meaningfully at her. "You tell me," he pleads. Abby blinks. "Should I send a protime?" Luka visibly deflates and nods, then leaves, swooshing the swinging door with particular vigor. I guess that's how you slam a door that doesn't...slam.
"What's the biggest angiogram you have?" Malucci asks Frosty, who is on her knees helping him work on Ulcer. She hands him a fourteen-gauge, and he dramatically announces that he's going to attempt retrograde intubation. Here, it looks like he sticks a needle threaded with wire through Ulcer's throat and reaches into Ulcer's mouth to pull the wire through and out. Flannel looks nauseated, but does reach out to hold the needle at Malucci's command. Dr. Dave uses words like "Sparky" so that we know he's showboating. He shouts for the tube, and after some confusion, gets it, completing the intubation and grinning like he hit a home run in the World Series. Frosty melts, so it's clear Dave will hit a home run somewhere tonight.
Weaver chases an impatient Dr. Robert "Heart of Gold? Me?" Romano through the hospital. "Doctors are human," she argues. "We make mistakes." Romano gripes that if Paul (the patient Malucci and Chen botched last week) had been diagnosed properly in the first place and gone straight to the OR instead of getting thrombolytics, he'd be alive and well and flipping burgers at McDonald's. Probably a delectable pair of all-beef patties, to which he'll add special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, and a sesame-seed bun. Hungry yet? "Marfan's [Syndrome] is hard to detect," Weaver insists. "The residents have never heard of it." How is that possible? Shouldn't they know their syndromes? Romano rightly points out that attending physicians exist for just such situations. Weaver sighs that she can't be everywhere at once, especially if she's busy leaving her pager atop the toilet paper holder in the bathroom at some local greasy spoon. "Wrong answer!" shouts Romano, spinning and seething right in Kerry's face. "As we speak, the Trib is writing a feature story on this screw-up and the rise in preventable deaths, so come up with a better excuse than 'doctors are human,' or find yourself a good old-fashioned scapegoat." Weaver doesn't have to look very hard. At that second, the elevator doors open and the crowd pours out, leaving Malucci and Frosty on the floor with Ulcer. "Who's your daddy?" he brags, grinning. They mentally undress each other as Weaver watches with interest, but this time -- for once -- it's not a lesbian anvil.
Chen and Carter tickle The Baby Who Brought Them Together, And Happened To Do It In the ER. "She's pinking up!" Chen grins, tickled. She's breathing on her own, her heart rate is normal, and her temperature has crept up much closer to the safety zone. Carter decides to call Social Services and DCFS, because the baby needs a family, but a gawker comes in first. She's an elderly lady named Marissa who claims to have found the baby in St. Anthony's and wanted to make sure she lived. Carter praises her for rescuing the child. Marissa excitedly introduces her sister, Carmine, and begs for a glimpse of the mark on the chest of The Baby Who Brought Together Carter and Marissa. Carter complies, lifting the blanket. "¿Ya ves? ¡Te lo dije! ¡Es una señal de la Vírgen!" Marissa exclaims. It means, literally but for whatever rust lingers on my Spanish, "Do you see? It's as I told you! It's a sign of the Virgin!" Carmine and Marissa frantically do the sign of the cross, and leave glowing. Chuny explains to a confused Carter and Chen that the gawkers think the birthmark is a holy thing, a sign of the Virgin Mary. It looks like a dark-red, miniature California, and it's directly atop where her heart would be. Chen marvels that it resembles a bleeding heart, but Carter the Skeptic snorts and leaves. Chen trots after him and thanks him quite sincerely for helping her through the procedure. "Any time," he says, pleasantly. She pats him.
Carter limps through the hallway, catching Abby's attention. "Can I get you a cane?" she teases. Carter struts that women often find helplessness charming. "In puppies, maybe," snorts Abby. So Carter goes for the jugular: "Still avoiding Luka?" Sighing, Abby sits Carter down and examines his foot while explaining that the real problem with Luka lies in his aquarium. "This morning, I had to go to his place to get one of my sweaters, and I smashed his fish tank," she states matter-of-factly. Carter stares. "It was an accident!" she defends herself. But she hasn't replaced it, nor has she confessed. "OW!" Carter yells when she tweaks the glass shard. Wryly, Abby asks whether he wants lidocaine. Carter -- no joke -- spreads his legs, leans back, and growls, "Just do it." Smoke rises from his loins. Abby raises her eyebrows. "That's one big piece of..." and before anyone vomits here, she says "glass" and not the name of a pork product. She begs Carter to help her sneak a giant fish tank into Luka's place. He resists, but we all know he's bound to agree because he's a big fat sucker and Abby is the pacifier he craves. "May I remind you I just removed a thorn from your paw?" she wheedles. And -- whoop, there it is, he's in.
Chen rages that Carter discharged her patient. "Weaver took her from me," seethes Chen. "She gave her to you!" Carter shrugs that maybe Weaver thought Chen was overloaded. "More like incompetent," she mourns. Carter can barely contain his amusement -- did The Baby Blah Bling Blee bring them together in vain? He giggles that Chen is the Chief Resident, the chosen one. "Yeah, by default," she grouses.
An older woman lies unconscious in her hospital bed. Her husband reminisces to Mark and Elizabeth that he met his wife when they were both kids. "Now she can't feed or dress herself, and she doesn't recognize me," he chokes. "What happens if you don't operate?" Mark, sensing this man's spirit is breaking, decides to crush it swiftly: "Her appendix will burst and she'll develop a life-threatening infection." Elizabeth takes the softer approach, for perhaps the first time ever. "She doesn't have to die, Mr. Tanzi," she says quietly. "It's a fixable condition." Tanzi wonders whether his wife wants to be fixed. He doesn't want her to suffer, and should probably just let her go. "Can you do that?" he implores them. Mark promises that they can. He's adept at killing patients. Elizabeth glares harder at him than ever before, and that's saying rather a lot.
"Are you not at least going to try convincing him?" Elizabeth utters, dumbfounded, after she and Mark exit Mrs. Tanzi's room. Mark shrugs that the husband has durable power of attorney and is of sane mind, so thus it's his decision and they should respect that. Rachel sprints over in tears and screams that she called Jen, and Jen freaked out. "I told you, all she cares about is her stupid job! She sent me to summer school and I swear I'm adopted!" Rachel rants. She curses her mother as a bitch and announces that she hates her. Mark should be startled, but instead digests this like it's a minor tantrum over a boy and a pimple. This is already boring. Obviously, she's staying in Chicago. But, we have to wait for the resolution, because Weaver charges past and orders Haleh to prep a trauma room for a patient coming in via ambulance.
Outside, Weaver sees one parked ambulance and asks the loitering medics where her patient is. "104 is bringing her in," a guy says. Weaver, anxious to unblock the ambulance bay, yanks open the vehicle's back doors. There, fucking frantically, are Malucci and Frosty, jingling their bells and laughing all the way. Weaver angrily slams the door, disgusted for a second at the mighty penis's foul act. Then she purses her lips, takes on an almost mischievously satisfied expression, and opens the doors again. Malucci indignantly turns around and shouts, "Chief!" but what he really means is, "Five more seconds!" Weaver looks at him evenly and calmly says, "You're fired." Dave flips. "I'm on my break!" he protests, not pulling out but not pumping either. Frosty pokes her head out. "I'm between calls," she offers helpfully. Weaver spits for Malucci to go home after moving the damn rig.
Apparently, a commercial break has done nothing to calm Weaver's fury. She erases Malucci's name from the assignment board as he, refusing to accept a firing, tries to haggle. But she won't settle for suspension, a written apology, exotic silks and spices, or a sturdy hardworking ox, so Dr. Dave has nothing else to offer. Weaver orders him to clean out his locker, and flounces away. "What?" he seethes at a curious Chen, then whirls around and rewrites his name to all his patients. Chen would press the issue, but Frosty appears and notifies her that The Baby That Brought Malucci and Frosty Together needs checking.
Rachel glares petulantly at her father, who's clutching a phone with Jen at the other end. He tries to calm Jen down, but she's apparently both irate and en route to Chicago. "I am not going back with her," insists Rachel, while Mark hangs up after a futile attempt to stop Jen from yelling. "She was freaking out, wasn't she?" Rachel asks. Their conversation is interrupted by a Mr. O'Groat, a rugby player leaving the hospital despite not being completely treated. Mark tells him that his shoulder might be separated, requiring further examination and probably a sling, but O'Groat beams, "It's okay! I saw the baby!" Mark is confused. Nothing new there. "Are you taking her side?" Rachel wails. Malucci interrupts to ask Mark whether he's spoken to Weaver. "She thinks she fired me," he says, snottily. Asshole. Has he always been an asshole, or is this just convenient storytelling? "What did you do now?" Mark sighs. "Nothing!" Malucci lies passionately. "I don't even want to see her!" shouts Rachel. Weaver cruises past and wonders aloud why Dr. Dave is still inside her hospital. "He's outta here," she explains to Mark. Mr. Tanzi then hurries over just as Malucci asks Mark again to speak with Weaver on his behalf. "Dr. Greene, my wife's gone," Tanzi frets. It seems she took her walker and used it for its intended purpose. "The last time she wandered off like this, she nearly got hit by a car!" he says, tensely. Mark figures she can't have gotten far, and sends Randi to alert security. "Dad, I really want to stay here with you!" Rachel pleads. "Okay, so you'll talk to her then, right?" Malucci asks. The Pied Piper of Valium Villa sharply tells Rachel this is a bad time, then tells Dave, "You talk to her. She didn't fire me!" More's the pity.
Abby seeks out Carter. "You ready?" she asks. He needs to see one more patient, but promises to hurry. "Okay, I'll be in the car; I don't want Luka to see us," she whispers. Under his breath, Carter mutters, "Aren't we going to be wearing ski masks?"
Nearby, Finch profusely thanks a telephone caller and hangs up with a huge sigh of relief. She's in the middle of treating a patient, who is taking meds through an inhaler, and Carter strolls over to get the dish on her good news. Cleo gleefully informs him that her crash test results came back, and her primary circuitboard is officially shatter-proof. Her HIV test also came back non-reactive, and she is totally flushed with excitement. Carter congratulates her, making this the second time today inappropriate ER business has been discussed in front of a patient who's mid-treatment. Cleo exposits that she must be tested again in three months, but they agree that if she hasn't converted by now, it's not terribly likely to happen. "God, I feel like I just got my life back!" she trembles. Her patient, Yolanda, sputters that her medicine isn't working. "Give it time," Cleo chirps. Carter cracks that she'd breathe more easily if Cleo removed Yolanda's corset. Cleo raises her eyebrow. "Be my guest," she jokes saucily, showing yet more signs of life. Carter respectfully declines, then spies action in Trauma One and scuttles over there to investigate.
An exiting nurse informs Carter that the baby's heart rate jumped up again, and ascribes it to "sinus tach." Carter enters the room to find the child fussing slightly, but not in any dangerous state of shock or ill-health. "Is she dehydrated?" he asks, concerned. Chen says the baby's making good urine, so she definitely isn't too dry, and demands that Chuny prep the hemoglobin she wanted. Carter rules out anemia, because her last hemocue was 12.2, which means...something good about blood levels. The chart looks mostly normal, and the tox screen is negative. "Maybe she's just worn out from performing all these miracles," Carter decides dryly. Chuny announces that the second hemocue is 8.2. "Aha!" Carter and I say in unison, because we both know what that means -- time for a Diet Coke. Except he dons his stethoscope and continues spewing jargon like "dilutional" and "hemolysis." They're obviously concerned about her low hemoglobin levels, which led to the child's slight pallor.
Mrs. Tanzi is suddenly standing in the doorway, staring at The Baby That Brought Mrs. Tanzi and Her Walker Together. Weaver gently asks what she's doing out of bed. "The baby was crying," Mrs. Tanzi says absently, staring at the child. Weaver hands Mrs. Tanzi off to a nurse and proceeds to circle around behind Chen, watching and listening. "I want a retic count, haptoglobin, Coombs, direct and indirect bilirubin," Chen states. "I want to transfuse two ccs per kilo per hour over the five hours." Clearing his throat, Carter announces too loudly, "Good pick-up, Deb. I would never have thought to repeat the blood count so soon." Chen shoots him an uneasy look while Weaver distractedly peruses the child's chart. "The baby's anemic, you give blood," she yawns. "Not exactly one for the journals." She passes the chart to Carter, retracts her fangs, and leaves. Chen purses her lips. "Thanks, Carter," she says sarcastically. "That was great."
Mark meets Weaver at Mrs.Tanzi's bedside, relieved to see her back. "I was detained by Malucci, who seems to think he's out of a job," Mark says quizzically. "He is," Weaver ices. "The baby was crying," murmurs Mrs. Tanzi, as her husband marvels at her sudden consciousness and marked improvement. Mark figures that her appendix burst, and that the ebbing pressure took the pain with it -- but, temporarily. Now that Mrs. Tanzi has arisen and can fully comprehend the gravity of her condition, Mark figures it's time to scare the crap out of her and shares that within twenty-four hours, peritonitis (inflammation of abdominal tissue) will set in and cause a high fever with severe stomach pain. His bedside manner is total crap -- her abdomen is exploding, but Mark says this as though he's diagnosing a common cold and doesn't seem to care. Angelically, Mrs. Tanzi turns to her husband and breathes, "Thank you for taking care of me, Lawrence." He strokes her face adoringly. Mark decides to remind Weaver quickly that other doctors have gotten caught "performing an unauthorized physical in the hospital," but she pointedly ignores Mark because he married Elizabeth, so his judgment is clearly too impaired for consideration. Mr. Tanzi interrupts that his wife hasn't uttered his name in two years, making surgery seem increasingly appealing. But because she's perforated, the operation will take much longer to heal. "Mr. Tanzi, your wife's moment of lucidity was probably a fluke," he theorizes. "The surgeon says it's a simple operation," Mr. Tanzi says stubbornly. Weaver interjects that she'll send the surgeon down immediately to outline the options and their consequences. "She deserves to have everything done for her," Mr. Tanzi trembles. "She will," Weaver promises.
Storming up to Mark, Weaver wonders aloud exactly what he's trying to accomplish. "His wife's [in] end-stage dementia," Mark rationalizes. "I'm trying to help both of them." By convincing a man to let his wife die, then live with the guilt? Maybe that's easy for a pushover who's had two shrill wives, but Mr. Tanzi actually seems to like his. Annoyed with Weaver's intervention, Mark childishly dares her to take on all the patients, since she's the one axing the doctors. "He had it coming," Weaver insists, cataloguing Dr. Dave's flaws -- insubordination and lax attitude being two of them. "He has no respect for anything," she argues. Mark thinks a reprimand is better suited to the situation. "You can't get rid of him just because you two don't get along," he says. "Hell, if that were the case, you'd have to fire all of us." Weaver knows she's lost this round, but stupidly opens her mouth and spits that she doesn't feel like answering to Mark on this one. He's already lost interest, though, having spied a very pointy and elfin-looking woman waiting impatiently near reception. It's Jen, doing her best to look like Hilary Swank's long-lost Vulcan sister. Although I'm sure the folks in the Enterprise forums will be able to explain the roughly six ways that's genetically impossible, based on newly translated charts detailing the Vulcan reproductive cycle. Mark leads his alien ex to Rachel.
Standing under the El tracks outside Luka's apartment, Carter tries to comfortably hold onto a giant fish tank. Abby rummages for her keys, but helpfully shouts, "Don't break it!" Struggling under the tank weight, Carter sputters, "You owe me so big for this." Hey, Abby? The guy has a bad back and a wounded foot. Think you could carry one end? Suddenly, she curses that she left her keys up in Luka's place. Carter's relief is palpable. "That's it, mission aborted," he grins, turning to leave. But Abby has a brainstorm: Luka sleeps with an open window, so if she can just climb up the fire escape, she can break in and unlock the door. "Wouldn't it make more sense just to leave this out front?" Carter asks, hopefully. Abby frets that someone would steal it. Except that it's huge. And rectangular. And won't exactly fit up under anyone's t-shirt. "Who steals a fish tank?" grouses Carter. "Come to think of it, who breaks a fish tank?" They prop it against the wall, and Abby studies the fire escape with interest. "Give me a boost," she orders. "No!" Carter laughs. Abby tells him to hush and bend over; "You could at least buy me dinner first," he cracks. Abby laughs openly, which is nice to see. Carter reminds her of his bad back, and Abby feigns offense, then climbs up onto him and reaches for the ladder. He could've just cupped his hands and let her use that as a stair, but then he couldn't blame future back pain and mental trauma on Abby. The ladder is stuck, so Abby dangles from it with her legs wrapped around Carter's waist, giggling. Clyde notices the fish tank beginning to topple, so he bolts, leaving Bonnie swinging unsupported from the fire escape.
In the doctors' lounge, Mark serves up coffee while Jen complains. Rachel disobeys her curfew, refuses to listen to her mother, and never helps out around the house. "How would you know?" Rachel brats. "You're never there!" Jen exposits for Mark's benefit that she just made partner, and then bitches that she's only working hard so that her ungrateful daughter will have a roof over her head. As a defense for working long hours, I've never bought that argument. It's not like Rachel's portion of the house is roofless pending further paychecks. Mark milquetoasts that there's clearly a lack of communication between mother and child, and proposes a compromise: if Rachel acts more responsibly, Jen will endeavor to spend more time bonding with her daughter. Rachel shouts that Jen is unreasonable and doesn't listen, while Jen complains that, after fourteen years, she's sick and tired of being Rachel's maid. "Tired of being a mother is more like it," Rachel accuses her. "Can you blame me?" Jen gripes. Yes, I can. That's what "pregnancy" means, and that's what "custody" means. Both are choices. Suck it up and stop acting like life took a shit in your underwear drawer. Although I'm also tired of Rachel, which is probably a testament to the actress's skills. She is one whiny teenager. Jen has had enough; she came to fetch her child, and now they have a plane to catch. "What if I'm not going back?" Rachel asks defiantly. Mark sits there uselessly, like the tumor he is. Angrily, Jen points out that she cancelled her entire day to come to Chicago. "Sorry I'm such a pain in the ass!" Rachel screams, storming out in a right snit. She bumps into Haleh. "Dr. Greene, we need you," Haleh says. Sighing, Mark turns and regards Jen briefly. "Remember when she used to flush her crayons down the toilet?" he recalls, tiredly. Jen isn't in the mood for nostalgia. "Seriously, Mark, you've got to help me here." Slumping a bit, Mark promises to be right back, and hightails it after Haleh.
Mark scrubs in at the trauma room, where he joins Benton in working on a pedestrian hit by a car. Benton didn't detect any signs of head trauma. The paramedic clarifies that the girl was, in fact, already lying in the middle of the road when the car struck her, so it's possible she took more than one hit. Mark checks her pupils and deems them reactive, as Haleh relays that the girl has a weak pulse. Benton notes a contusion in her upper left quadrant, then exclaims that she's got a severed umbilical cord hanging from her body, no sign of a baby, and an undelivered placenta. Mark will try to extract it, but wants someone from obstetrics to come down as backup. Haleh holds up the girl's foot. "She's missing a shoelace," she says dramatically, certain she's located The Womb That Birthed The Baby That, So Far, Hasn't Brought The ER Together As Promised.
Abby stares into a fish net and wonders whether they can resuscitate a fish. Carter doubts this. "Think we should flush him?" Abby asks playfully. "Think Luka will miss him?" Carter snorts. "Maybe he'll think one of the other fish ate him," Abby grins, shoving the net toward Carter. He flirtatiously bats it away, but clearly wants her to snare him with it. She makes him take it, and he then dumps the supposedly expired fish back into the tank. It sinks. Not so dead. As she wipes down the tank's glass, Abby babbles that she was bad with creatures and used to paint her pet turtle with nail polish, but Carter is anxious to leave and isn't listening. They're cute together, but the madcap-adventure plot feels really forced. Carter is anxious to leave. "I just have to wipe the place down for prints," Abby sasses. Hunched over, ready to pick up the new fish tank, Abby freezes when she hears the door buzzer. Peeved, Carter hangs his head while Abby sneaks over to check the peephole; she sees two impatient-looking cops staring back at her.
Benton and Mark prepare to administer an ultrasound, just as their patient begins to regain consciousness. Her name is Anna, her stomach hurts, and she cagily denies having a baby. Mark gives her a "holy shit" look, but is interrupted by news that her spleen is damaged from internal bleeding and must be removed. "You haven't delivered your placenta yet," he adds. Anna's eyes fly open. "No, I'm not pregnant!" she insists, flickering her gaze back and forth between her two physicians. "You were," Mark confirms. "Did you leave your baby at the church?" Anna staunchly denies all knowledge of a baby, so Mark does the intelligent thing and orders Peter to hold off on the life-saving operation long enough that he can wave a baby in front of her face.
Bolting door and feigning brief interest in The Baby That Brought Chen and Chuny Together, Mark grabs the bed and wheels it through into Anna's trauma room. Chen and Chuny help, but protest that the child still badly needs transfusions. Mark is hell-bent on making his point. Mark, shut up, freak! If you know it's her baby and you know Anna needs surgery, why not reunite them in recovery? No, no, Baldy has to make a point and brandish a sick baby. Go AWAY, Mark. "Dr. Greene, her pressure's borderline," Benton argues. "I've got to take her up!" Likewise, Chen protests that she needs to hook the monitors back up to this ill baby. Still, Mark insists on putting two patients at risk, because he's first in the credits and that's how it works. He introduces Anna to her baby, and over the young girl's protests, describes how she birthed it, tied off the umbilical cord with a shoelace, and deposited her in a church so that someone might save her. "I can't have a baby," she sputters. "But you did," Mark insists. We get plenty of shots of the infant, who is especially adorable right now, gurgling and smiling and bringing nobody together. I hate, hate, hate the previews for this show. Sniffling, tears mingling with the blood stains on her face, Anna swears she never meant to hurt the baby, and figured God could protect the newborn. "He did," Chen says softly. "Some people think she's a miracle." Anna's eyes fly open. Chen confirms, "They feel better when they're near her." Gentle piano music of The Baby That Brought Itself and Its Mother Together tinkles in the background as Anna, awed, reaches for the baby's hand and clasps it, smiling broadly. Chen smiles, too, but with a tinge of wariness, since both patients are due for fairly important medical treatments despite Mark's best efforts to thwart them.
Embarrassed, Abby and Carter twiddle their thumbs in the backseat of a squad car. Carter grabs his phone and dials. "What are you doing, ordering a pizza?" Abby cracks, but Carter doesn't appreciate the humor -- he's calling his lawyer. "They haven't charged us with anything," she sighs, exasperated at her humorless comrade. "What are they going to arrest us for? Aquatic mischief?" Carter shakes his head. "Hope you're this funny in handcuffs," he says. "I am," Abby counters. Just then, Carter peers out the back window and sees Luka arrive, hopping suavely from a black SUV, in slick dark clothes and sunglasses. Goran should totally kidnap Pierce Brosnan and gun for the James Bond franchise. Abby frets that Luka seems pretty pissed. "Think he'll press charges?" Carter wonders. "I don't know; we did kill his fish," she considers. "'We'?" Carter fires back. Abby watches Luka for a second and heaves, "Oh, he's really pissed."
Cheerfully, the cop sidles up to the open car door and informs Carter and Abby that Luka let them off the hook. Relieved, they get out of the patrol car, as Abby speculates as to whether she should say something to her ex. Scanning the street briefly, Abby decides, "Maybe tomorrow," and hightails it outta there with a smirking Carter trotting obediently in her wake. They're much cuter together than Abby and Luka, but only because the writers give her such bleak dialogue in scenes with her recent ex. It's so manipulative, and it ends up making her relationships with both men ring false.
Rachel pouts on a bench outside the hospital. Mark approaches her and tries to usher her to Jen's taxi. In what he imagines is a gesture both friendly and fatherly, Mark puts a hand on her shoulder and perfunctorily says, "I know growing up can be tough, but you can call me anytime." She snarls that she can't call if Jen revokes her phone privileges again. It occurs to me that never once has Mark asked Jen if all these wild allegations are true. The first thing out of my mouth would be, "You kicked her out and threw her clothes on the lawn, you insane Vulcan wench?" Rachel snottily insists things won't get any better with Jen, so Mark exhaustedly sits down and asks what she wants him to do for her. His spine drops out his trouser leg. Rachel finally plainly asks Mark to let her stay with him. "Your mom would miss you," he attempts. Strike one. "You'd miss your friends," he tries again. Strike two: "They're only a phone call away...I'll make new ones," she counters. Now he whips out the big gun. "What about school?" But when Rachel correctly notes that Chicago also has schools, Mark knows he's struck out and lost the game. "I just want to spend more time with you and Ella," Rachel implores sweetly, grabbing Mark's backbone and whipping him with it. "I've got a baby sister who doesn't even know me," she persists. "And Elizabeth is totally smart and cool. She's a great role model." For a budding bitch, yes. Mark completely buys into all this bullshit. "Are you serious about this?" he asks. "It's a big move." Rachel's eyes flutter for a second, then she affects a pathetic face and lies, "I miss you, Dad." Charmed, Mark agrees to talk to Jen. Sucker.
Mrs. Tanzi is in the OR, under Elizabeth's knife and Dr. Babcock's scrutinizing gaze. Yes, Babcock. ["Love that man." -- Wing Chun] He's begging Elizabeth to rush an operation because he has Cubs tickets and can't stand to miss the inaction. She haughtily refuses. Babcock then insults the patient, claiming that his pre-op assessment of Mrs. Tanzi was less stimulating than chatting up his neighbor's cat. Ignoring this, Elizabeth demands two liters of saline to irrigate, but there's only 500 ccs in there, so she must wait while they fetch more. Babcock blathers on about dignity in death, and how he'd hate going to the OR in this situation -- I think he's commenting on Mrs. Tanzi's dementia, but he's such a horse's ass that I stop listening. ["You're fired." -- Wing Chun] Suddenly, he calls Elizabeth's name. No response; she's standing, but swaying, having fallen asleep on her feet in the middle of the operation. Maybe she'll fall nose-first into the remains of Mrs. Tanzi's appendix. Babcock clears his throat and shouts, "Dr. Corday?" She jumps awake and demands her saline from Shirley. "Did you just fall asleep?" Babcock asks, amazed. She denies it, but it was pretty hard to miss. "I was resting my eyes," she snarls.
Romano waltzes into the prep room just as Benton is scrubbing up for surgery. "Peter, you missed a good one!" he exclaims. "Seven gunshots. It was like a scavenger hunt. What've you got?" Benton gives him the bullet on Anna, and says Dr. Coburn is going to try a manual extraction of the undelivered placenta under general anaesthesia. Shirley interrupts with a grin on her face and tells Benton there's a young man outside looking for him. Curiously, he dries his hands and spies Jackie outside holding Reese. "I'm sorry, Peter," she sobs. "I can't do this! I tried, I really did." Reese trots off to the water fountain, adorable as always. Jackie is rambling and clearly traumatized. "Reese is the sweetest little boy in the world," she says. "I love him like he was mine, but he's not mine...and every time I see him...." She chokes that it's not fair, and flees. Romano exits the prep room and pleasantly cracks, "Is he scrubbing in with you, Peter?" Sighing, Benton excuses himself for two minutes to drop off Reese in day care before assisting with Anna's operation. Romano dissuades him: "Go home, Peter. Get your personal life sorted out." He says this in typical Romano fashion, seeming generous and critical at once. He further offers to scrub in for Anna's surgery, snarking, "She stands a better chance of surviving if I do it. Go spend some quality time with your son at Chuck E. Cheese, or something." Benton resignedly picks up Reese and carries him away; as the little boy peers over his shoulder, Romano signs, "Watch out for your dad." That's according to the forums, anyway. Romano is one of the better-written characters on the show. He's a total enigma, considerate one second and a prick the . He clearly must get laid, and soon, and -- memo to the writers -- on-camera, please.
Chen strolls outside and tries to unwind, sipping coffee. She spies Malucci sitting out there dejectedly. "Weaver change her mind?" she asks, gently. Dave smiles ruefully and says, "Nah, not yet." Chen believes she will, once the anger subsides, but by now even Malucci understands this is different from the usual spite with which Weaver regards him. He cops to erring enormously on Paul's case, blaming himself for telling Chen the x-ray was clear and thus prompting her to ignore it. "I thought I was doing the right thing," he says sadly. "I just wanted to save him." Chen helpfully recalls an old saying: "You're not a real doctor until you've killed a few patients." I prefer to recall an old joke: what do you call a medical student who graduates last in his class? The answer: Doctor. Dave's mouth twitches, but he's utterly glum. Chen quietly asks what he's going to do . "This is the only thing that I've ever been any good at," he says. "I'm going to be a doctor." And with that, he reenters the ER.
Carter walks Abby up the stairs to her apartment. Abby is surprised that the cops never picked up Carter for any silly misdemeanors when he was a kid. She giggles that she kinda-sorta stole a Gremlin in her youth, engaging in a brief high-speed chase, but all for a noble cause: "We had to get Wham! tickets," she grins. I can totally relate. George Michael was one of my very first celebrity crushes. We were in looove, except for the whole he-was-gay- and-I-was-six thing. Abby then invites Carter in for a coffee "or something," but Carter completely fails to let his mind exaggerate the "or something" part and stupidly says he can't, because he's got an early wake-up call. "Thanks for helping me," she says, sheepishly. Carter tells her to find another wheelman time. "That's too bad," she twinkles. "I had my eye on this liquor store around the corner." Leaning heavily against her door, she finally bangs it open and laughs self-consciously, then leans contemplatively against the frame. She stares. Carter stares. She bites her lip, then lamely offers, "Sorry I almost got you arrested." Carter still looks inquisitively at her, and I think we're witnessing The Look, the one that's both a question and an answer as long as one of them acts upon it. Naturally, the upstairs neighbors start a screaming match that spoils the mood, and the lady who lives door bursts out of her apartment to investigate. Carter backs away, taking his leave of Abby but doing so in very high spirits. Someone's going to be watching a porno tonight.
Elizabeth drifts toward Mark. "You look beat," he says, romantically. She lies that her surgery passed without incident and listlessly says, "I noticed Rachel's still here." Mark confesses that there's been a slight change of plan. "How do you feel about Rachel staying with us for a little while?" he begins. Elizabeth clarifies, "Like for the rest of the summer?" Hedging, Mark suggests it could stretch longer than that, but chips right in with the tempting nugget that Rachel could be a live-in babysitter for Ella -- this, despite Rachel having just finished a screaming match with her mother about being irresponsible. Stonily, Elizabeth throws up her hands. "She's your daughter, Mark," she says, unmistakable about the pronoun and stressing it not in a welcoming way, but in a "you deal with her, not me" kind of way. "Of course she's welcome to stay with us," Elizabeth adds. "The fact that she's still here suggests that you've already told her she could." Mark is no match for the Iron Hell-Bitch, being a sad sack of polyester and beard hair. He utters something pathetic to the effect that Elizabeth was busy in surgery, but he's interrupted by Rachel's inquiry about whether they have a satellite dish. Elizabeth bites the inside of her cheeks to keep from spitting.
Malucci treats a sorry-looking man in a red velour suit that's half-devil, half-superhero. The man is a fire-eater, and lost half his facial hair in an accident caused by the fact that he lost his Vaseline, substituted hair gel to shape his handlebar mustache, and subsequently learned what "inflammable" means. Malucci assures him that the skin looks fine, but they have to shave off the rest of the mustache. "You can't shave my mustache," protests the patient. "That's my trademark." Dr. Dave suggests that he can get an extension until it grows back, but we're not paying attention because the camera is on a speeding Weaver. She snatches the chart and orders Malik to hand off the patient to another doctor. "Look, Chief, I know you're pissed, but come on, let's be real about this," Malucci argues, following her into Reception. "If you really wanted to axe me, you'd have to go through the residency review committee, and then the disciplinary committee, and then they'd want to counsel me." Spoken like a man who's experienced the system. He smarms that they should hash out the details of a suspension, but nothing more. Weaver coolly refers to the five letters in his file detailing unprofessional behavior, for which he received counseling each time. "You have failed two rotations," she spits. "Yes, there will be a meeting of the residency review committee and yes, they will once again offer you counseling, but I'm telling you right now: you will never work in this ER again." Malucci is irate, claiming she only hates him because he doesn't kiss her ass. "Yeah, I like to have fun sometimes, but I'm a damn good doctor," he asserts. "I had a half-dozen great saves today." Weaver mutters that being a doctor requires more than just a few saves. "What, I have to adopt your cheery attitude and sparkling bedside manner?" he fumes, accusing Weaver of firing him simply because she does not care for him personally. "You're right, I don't like you," Weaver shouts. "You show no respect for me, your colleagues, this hospital. You like to think that you have this cowboy approach to medicine, but you don't have the goods to back it up. You make mistakes -- mistakes that kill people!" Mark is watching now with unabashed interest. Weaver should pray Paul's family -- or family lawyers -- aren't within earshot of the waiting room. She's broadcasting an implication of malpractice.
In a low voice, Malucci makes one final plea. "I need this job," he whispers. "You can't fire me, I have a kid to support." Whoa. I agree that this tidbit, regardless of its veracity, makes Malucci a lot more interesting. Either he's a seasoned manipulator, or he's a father; maybe he's both. Typically, the show only throws him a story bone when it's his last scene; however, it never would have been revealed had Erik Palladino not been written out of the show. There's no way the writers had this little Malucci paternity secret bubbling under the surface all these years, and simply failed to write scripts about it. No, it's a quick and easy fix for his farewell story line, to make him look sympathetic at the last second, and it's grounded in nothing. Weaver spins around and regards him curiously, convinced he's never mentioned anything about being a father. "Did you ever ask?" he chokes. "You don't know a damn thing about me." Weaver is clearly affected by the revelation, but stands firm: "I know you're fired," she says firmly. Furious, Malucci rips off his stethoscope. "You're a sad, cold-hearted bitch," he hisses. "You may not like me, but nobody here likes you." Weaver shouts for him to get out immediately. "You know why this stupid ER is so important to you, lady? Know why?" he challenges her. "'Cause it's the only thing that you've got in your life." Slamming his stethoscope down on the counter, Malucci hatefully spits, "Nazi dyke." As disgusting and intolerant as that slur is, it would've been so much more fascinating as a story point if Malucci had yelled it, stormed out, but still had to return and try to work in the ER, or maybe go through disciplinary hearings. It's a bold choice for the character's exit, but so much bolder if it's a character beat and part of a larger arc. Not that any of the chimps that write the show are listening. Weaver watches his irate departure, stunned and gutted. Swallowing her reaction, she walks away, having just experienced that which she most desperately feared.