During February sweeps, Weaver tried forcing Luka into therapy, Carter told Susan he was going to propose to Abby, but later balked, and Weaver withheld a positive syphilis test from Alderman Bright's medical record.
We come up on Kerry Weaver, who is arguing passionately in front of the city council that she should not be required to wear prom hair every time she drops by for a debate. Her makeup looks great, but the updo, while flattering, belongs with a taffeta dress in a matte color Olan Mills photograph featuring a macramé heart and a gymnasium banner that says, "Endless Love." Despite the committee chair's repeated assertions that Kerry can shut her piehole now, because they get the point, and it's not their fault the prom theme "Endless Love" sucks a giant fatty, she continues to argue that doing whatever it is they want to do would leave a community without reliable medical care. "We get it," the council chair barks, calling for a vote. Alderman Bright seconds this motion. Kerry stares at him, nervous and surprised, and he twinkles back at her, cocky and reassuring. "All in favor of closing the Erie Street Clinic," calls out the chairman; assorted hands pop up. Roughly the same number of hands vote against this, and Bright lazily lets his arm waft skyward to seal the deal. "The nays have it," the chairman announces. Kerry lets out a relieved breath, and the Alderman shoots her a smug smile.
Weaver and Bright leave the room together, Bright complimenting her on her stellar work, magical persuasive skills, and bravery in wearing bridesmaid hair to an important meeting. Those comments combined make a thick enough layer to render her coat unnecessary on even the coldest Chicago day, but the good alderman would like to make absolutely sure she's warm, so he lays it on again and tells her she's got that special sainted quality that makes politicians so special. Wait, how does he know she's a facile liar? Bright coos that he wouldn't be surprised to see her as Surgeon General one day. "Christie, meet the future Surgeon General," he says to his assistant. Christie chuckles politely. Christie remembers the time he told her she'd be the Secretary General, not realizing that he just meant "my secretary in charge of general appointments, and also coffee." Weaver tries to deflect all this attention. Christie calls after Bright that someone called about the gay marriage amendment. "Tell him I'm sympathetic, but it'll never pass, and I'm not going to torpedo the bill," Bright replies.
In his office, as he closes the door, Bright cracks to Kerry that he should put her on the gay marriage case. Kerry freezes, as if she can't figure out what he's heard or how he heard it or how she can pretend it's not true or blame it on Abby. But Bright clarifies that he simply meant she's a problem-solver. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate that," he says. "That's why I hate to implore you for another personal favor." Kerry blanches as Bright explains, in the most gooey and genial manner, that he's in love with one of his staffers but he doesn't want word getting out about this, so he wants Weaver to treat his lover with the same discretion she afforded him. Weaver tries to get Bright to send "her" to a free clinic and more or less asks if the syphilis has infected "her." The alderman expertly executes The Dance of the Pronouns to avoid confirming or denying his lover's gender. "It's just a shot of penicillin, right?" he points out. Weaver gulps and shakes her head, pointing out that giving treatment without generating a medical record is malpractice. "But you've done it before," he says. Weaver uncomfortably pleads that she could lose her license, so with all due respect, she won't be putting anything into his lover's ass. Bright gets all calm and kind, gushing that of course he understands and he shouldn't have asked, and it's all okay -- which is behavioral code for "Blackmail is sexy, and no, I'm not talking about Gallant."
Weaver turns to leave. "Congratulations again," Bright says too pleasantly. "You did some real good today, Kerry." Then he pauses. "Of course, there's no guarantees for year's budget at your hospital." Kerry freezes. "What?" she whispers. Bright cheerfully mentions that they're voting that afternoon on whether to eliminate emergency services at County. Weaver can't believe he's acting like some kind of gangster, like the head of the Syphilis Mafia. She doesn't even have balls, yet he's still got her nuts in a vise. "I need you, Kerry," he intones. She stares at him, suddenly very aware that he's her puppetmaster and that puppets are unbelievably creepy-looking, and we smash into the credits.
On a rainy morning, Carter and Gamma ride together in her limo. He's staring out the window, quiet and standoffish. "Is your jalopy still in the shop?" she tweaks him. "It's a Jeep," he whines. Gamma's like, whatever, Jalopy Boy, and switches the subject to his lack of interest in breakfast. "I don't like to eat much before a shift," he says. "All that blood and guts, you know." Gamma shudders. "Don't remind me," she grunts. There's a pause, after which she gingerly asks what his secret agenda is. Carter shrugs that he was just checking up on her, and that he'd really missed having servants cut the crusts off his bread and shine his shoes and chew his food for him. Then, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the ring box, handing it to Gamma. I knew it! I knew she was the only woman he'd ever truly love. "I wanted to give this back to you. For the time being," he says softly, clarifying that he never actually proposed because it felt rushed. "What did she do?" Gamma asks. "Nothing. She doesn't even know," Carter says. "I don't think she knows. Maybe she knows, I don't know." Gamma expresses sorrow. "I thought you'd be relieved," Carter sasses. "I thought you didn't...care for her." Gamma sighs that she's done with trying to force Carter into doing what she wants. "You're past having me badger you about your choices," she decides. Note that she never actually says she likes Abby, or that she isn't relieved the proposal didn't happen. Very smooth, Gamma. She hands back the ring and tells Carter he can give it -- or not give it -- to whomever he likes. Carter sighs, because in truth he wanted Ed Asner to have it, and he hasn't yet found another grifter with a dirty clinic and a gruff but lovable demeanor.
At the hospital, Gallant tells Abby that he's thinking about pursuing emergency medicine, because he's mistakenly gotten the impression that she cares about anything that doesn't involve hating herself or her life. "Here?" she gapes. "Better than Iraq," grunts Frank, accusing Gallant of being afraid to fight -- he can delay his service commitment until after his residency. "Any time, any place, old man," Gallant retorts. Susan appears and complains about her St. Patrick's Day revelers. A clean-cut brown-haired man asks her where Weaver is, and Susan crabbily refers him to Frank. "Why as me? Do I look like the customer-service lady?" she whines. Maybe it's the hair. It's down, and while it looks pretty and shiny, it seems a tad impractical to risk shedding all over some poor patient's innards. "He's cute," Abby says, nodding at the young man. "He's a zygote," Susan crabs. Beggars can't be choosers, diva.
As they walk away, Susan bitches about swearing off blind dates, then announces that she and Chen and a horde of other County staffers are going to Vegas that night. She's excited. As well she should be. Maybe she should invite Carter so that he can give Gamma's ring to a scantily clad showgirl with a heart of gold, a chest of silicone and a hard-on for awkward, boyish sex. As Abby bustles around working and checking charts, Susan comically tries to sneak a good look at her left hand, going to far as to move the chart Abby's holding. "Did you need that?" Abby asks blankly. "Uh, no," Susan chokes. She asks oh-so-casually how Abby's doing with Carter. "Good, I guess," Abby sighs. "He's been acting a little weird [but] I think we're getting back to normal." Chuny calls Susan away before she can get more information.
We follow Abby, who approaches a trauma arriving for Luka. He yells for her to clear CT for the girl, who has what Luka calls a "sub-conj hemorrhage," which, in layman's terms, means she's running around uncontrollably conjugating verbs so that they match their subjects. Ah, grammar. The quiet killer. Elizabeth meets them outside the trauma room. The paramedic explains that the girl lost consciousness at Union Station and has no ID, so she might be a street kid. "Not with those boots," notes Abby. "Expensive jacket, too," Elizabeth seconds. "Maybe she shoplifts," Malik suggests helpfully. The girl has bruises on her face and a particularly nasty red patch underneath her left eye. They wheel her into Trauma Green just as a dorky little guy in a sweater tries to hail Luka. It's Dr. Meyers, his would-be therapist. "I'm sorry, I forgot," Luka says blankly. "Three times? Three missed appointments?" Meyers whines. "I have a bad memory," Luka shrugs. Meyers complains that he looks like an idiot when Luka skips mandatory therapy, and he really, really doesn't want to look any stupider than he already does in his math-geek outfit that his mommy picked out this morning. "I want to help you," Meyers adds. "Prepare for disappointment," Luka scoffs. Meyers orders him to show up during his extended evening office hours. Luka doesn't see the point. "You don't have to see the point. Just show up," Meyers huffs. Luka stares emptily after him. All ambient noise disappears so that we get a shot of pure, unadulterated Croatian honey. "Just show up. That's all I've been doing. Showing up," he voices-over. The picture is of him drifting into Trauma Green; we can't hear anything, but the captioners reveal that the dialogue was of Elizabeth discovering a gold card on the girl's person and guessing that it's stolen. "Time goes by faster at work," Disembodied Luka says. "Treat and street a few lost souls...You're with them when they're most vulnerable, when they're naked, weak, hurt." He wanders into Trauma Yellow, where Carter's patient is retasting the seventeen Jell-O shots she guzzled earlier. "You touch them, look at their bodies, see them more closely than their families, their lovers, but it's mechanical and temporary," Luka voices-over. Good lord, I hope so, or else you're headed for some fun malpractice suits, Luka.
On that, we cut to a shot of Luka sitting in a leather wing chair; clearly this is all part of a monologue he's been delivering to someone so that we might understand that he's In Serious Pain, and Deeply Tormented, and Really, Really Pretty. Although, problematically, the whole thing's sabotaged by his coif. It's his usual side part, but his hair's slicked across his forehead in one giant chunk, a wave of Brylcreamed black death. That is the real tragedy of this episode. "You fix them up or you watch them die. Either way it ends, and you move on. No time, no strings, no real connection," he says, half in-scene and half disembodied. "Maybe that's why I stay."
We cut back to the hospital on that last line and see Luka standing outside, staring at the rain. This is much better. Wet brooding is definitely the way to go. The rain is putting out the fire in his loins that burns only for me. What? Prove me wrong. The camera pulls back and the street noises slowly get louder, bringing us back into the scene. Abby appears at his side. "You waiting on an incoming?" she asks. He snaps out of his reverie and says, "Coffee." Silence. "Cigarette break?" he asks conversationally. Abby shakes her head. "Do you want some?" he asks. Yes, oh, God, YES, I thought you'd never ask, Luka baby. Abby is even like, "Um, wha...?" Luka clarifies, "Coffee?" Abby declines politely. Luka grins and nudges her playfully. "You're not turning into a health nut on me?" he asks. She shakes her head and smiles that she's waiting for an old lady who fell off her treadmill. Luka pulls up his collar and trudges out into the rain. Never in my life have I wanted so badly to be a collar.
Elizabeth sits down with the assaulted girl who will hereafter be known as Crazy Toe Girl, for obvious reasons. And in honor of what's going to happen, I hereby disavow any and all knowledge of the word "eye," excepting the time I will scream it out loud at the television and to my friends. Okay? Good. CTG is skinny and pale, and her left toe is totally jacked -- the nail is hyper-dilated, giving her vision trouble. Gently, Elizabeth asks what happened, and whether she should call some parental units. "I don't live at home," CTG snaps. She's reticent with details, despite Elizabeth's calm and caring demeanor. Stupid CTG doesn't understand that she's getting The Best of Corday, Volume II: Bedside Manner for free. That toe problem is really affecting her judgment. "They call it boot camp for kids who can't get along with their parents," Crazy Toe Girl finally blurts. "So they discipline you?" Elizabeth presses. "Does this look like discipline?" CTG screeches, pointing to her toe. "I heard they raped a girl!" Elizabeth turns to a nearby Haleh and suggests that she get the cops. Haleh -- sensing that her work here is done, even though we don't know what she was doing -- departs. Elizabeth tries again with CTG. "I'm sure your mother would like to know you're here, safe," she says. CTG spits that her mom's the one who sent her there. Elizabeth looks surprised, as if Boot Camp for Really, Really Problematic And Crazy Kids is usually entirely elective.
Out at the front desk, everything's more normal: Frank is braying into the phone, Abby is bustling around looking sullen, and Weaver's complaining. All is well. The good-looking guy from earlier finally introduces himself to Weaver as Keith Mitchell. Weaver's face registers complete shock when Keith prompts her, "I believe special arrangements were made by Alderman Bright."
Somehow, Weaver got Keith to a private room without shoving him in a laundry cart or hiding him in her shirt. She pulls a curtain closed for good measure. "Jonathan has nothing but wonderful things to say about you," Keith offers, removing his jacket. He babbles about how long he's worked there -- two years -- and what a wonderful mentor Bright is -- generous with both his time and his cock. He rolls up his sleeve. "This goes in the buttocks," Kerry says. Keith's all, yeah, that's what he said, baby. Keith exposits that Bright spotted the sore two nights ago. "I was so embarrassed. I hope I didn't give it to him," he reddens. "He didn't have it?" Weaver chokes, pale. Keith shakes his head and explains that he was crazy in college, but that he and Bright are monogamous now. Kerry's all, no pun intended, but...monogamous my ass, boy. If Keith really didn't have syphilis and Bright suddenly developed it, wouldn't Bright have had to be boning somebody else? "I have to say, he was really cool about it. Most people wouldn't be so understanding," Keith says dreamily. Kerry looks like she wants to throw up all over his tight young booty. "All done," she says instead. "We all have our past, right?" Keith chirps, tucking in his shirt. Weaver averts her toes.
Some old man's sassy wife fell off her treadmill -- this is the woman Abby was waiting for earlier. "I told you not to work out so much," he grumbles. "So I can watch soaps all day?" she lips. Then she tells Carter her hair is falling out. "I blame that on him," she sighs. "She's just kidding," her husband says. "The hell I am!" she shouts. Her husband clearly wants to tell her to shut her mischief hole, but no one put that in the script, so he stays silent. "Did you check her fingernails?" Abby asks Carter. "Yeah, I was getting to that," he snaps. Abby is briefly taken aback, but covers; we learn that the woman, Ruthy, is exposed to arsenic on a daily basis through her job at a wood-processing plant. Carter asks Abby to obtain her past test results from OSHA, and they escape right as The Bickersons get going again.
"The wonders of marital bliss, huh?" Carter observes dryly. "I wonder who's worse -- her for being such a pain in the ass, or him for being so pathetic." Then he trips over an anvil and lands right in the lap of our hero Ron Obvious. "Cuts both ways, I guess," Abby shrugs. Carter makes up a question to ask Elizabeth so that she has an excuse to cross the set. The camera picks Elizabeth up and follows her toward Trauma Green.
Just outside the room, Lizzie bumps into Crazy Toe Girl's mother. "I'm surprised the camp actually called you," Elizabeth says, sitting down. "They assaulted your daughter." Mama CTG bites her lip and snorts. "Is that what she told you?" she shakes her head. "She ran off on the second day. They didn't touch her." Elizabeth points out that, clearly, somebody touched CTG. "What makes you so certain it's not the camp?" she asks. "Because she says it is," Mama CTG replies bitterly. "Trashing our house with a baseball bat, shoplifting, drinking, drug use, unwanted pregnancy...do I need to go on?" Elizabeth stares at her as if unable to believe a teenager can be so evil -- like she herself wasn't the stepmonster of a rotten little brat and budding tramp. Mama CTG's pager beeps, so she excuses herself. "Maybe you can talk to her when you're finished?" Elizabeth pleads. "I haven't been able to talk to her in three years," Mama CTG says, sadly. Elizabeth stares at the ground, upset that the writers have forgotten that she's not Mark, and angry that she's apparently getting some reheated crappy troubled teen storyline that got rejected last season from the Things That Parallel Mark Greene's Pathetic Life pile.
Weaver is treating a leprechaun who got thrown across the room in a bar fight. "It was not a tossing," he says sternly. "There's a difference." Uh huh. Dr. Anspaugh wanders over to congratulate Kerry. "Whatever you're doing down at City Hall is working," he grins. To Weaver's surprise and guilty alarm, Anspaugh reveals that the hospital's budget sailed through the committee without a single cut -- stunning, considering that they were expecting to lose up to 20%. "He drove off the snakes!" announces the leprechaun, referring to St. Patrick. Kerry stares at him. "What the hell kind of misguided metaphor is that?" she wonders to herself. Anspaugh smiles and tells her to report to his office at 5 PM with Romano in tow. "Just some administrative housekeeping," he says. "We should burn through it pretty quickly."
Frank bellows for Weaver to go help Susan with "that kid who was looking for you...the medics brought him in." Weaver bolts into Trauma Yellow as, interestingly, background music kicks in for the first time in the entire episode. "He passed out across the street," Susan exposits. She tries asking Weaver a few questions, assuming that Weaver knows Keith because he was looking for her. Weaver lies that she doesn't know him, and muscles her way in to demand that they intubate immediately. "So you do know him," Susan says softly. Weaver just insists that it sure looks like an allergy attack, covering for the fact that she already knows exactly what he must be allergic to. Chuny notices a City Hall ID among Keith's things. Susan turns and shoots Kerry a quizzical look. "I got some papers from Health and Human Services. Maybe he dropped them off," Weaver stammers. As they scramble to treat Keith, Susan continues staring confusedly at her boss. We fade to black admiring Kerry's good luck that the shot went into his ass, which they can't see, rather than his arm, which they can.
Out in the hall, Weaver screams into the phone that "one of his staffers" -- hee, in more ways than one, you saucy alderman! -- is in the ER with a severe allergic reaction, and that he needs to return her call ASAP. Susan pops up to her. "Uh, you're right, he does work at City Hall," Weaver covers. "Alderman Bright's office?" guesses Susan with a sneer. "There's a chancre on his penis." Weaver turns away to hide her nausea. "Kerry..." Susan warns. "That's a bit of a leap," Weaver stammers. "The alderman walked out of here with untreated syphilis," Susan says. "We don't know that it was untreated," Kerry argues. "And now one of his young staffers..." Susan continues. Weaver interrupts, "We certainly don't know that the alderman is in the habit of sexual harassment, much less that he's gay!" Susan reminds Weaver that the kid's in shock from a food or drug allergy, and she thinks it's penicillin. "Not necessarily," Weaver hedges. Susan sighs and leaves.
Nervously, Weaver waits for Susan to disappear, then strolls into Trauma Yellow as nonchalantly as she can. When Keith's toes flutter open, Weaver hurriedly invents a reason to get Abby out of the room, and then closes the shades and sits to the gurney to brainwash him as best she can. "Can you hear me?" she whispers. Keith opens his toes again. "You had a severe allergic reaction, probably to the penicillin, but everything is okay now, all right?" she whispers reassuringly. Keith blinks. Weaver swallows hard and informs him, still so very gently, that the other doctors will have loads of questions for him. "Jonathan cannot have sent you here," she says feverishly. "To me. You know what that means. We have to protect him. We can't give anyone reason to speculate, or they might even target Jonathan as the source of the infection." Poor little Keith's toes fly open in horror and he shakes his head. Weaver nods kindly. "Listen carefully, Keith," she says. "People have been known to borrow prescriptions from a friend without ever seeing a doctor. They think they know what they have, and how to treat it, so they take care of it on their own. Understand? Also, Scientology rocks!" Keith stares at her, mostly because he's kind of hampered right now and staring is about all he can do.
Frank has a fishing injury. Carter is blasé about it and gives him lip. "Shut your sasshole, boy," Frank growls, headbutting Carter into the desk and ripping out every badly styled strand of his hair.
Once Carter has made his escape, Abby gives chase. "Doctor," she says pointedly, clearly still annoyed that he was touchy with her earlier. Carter turns and listens; apparently, Mrs. Bickerson has historically had negligible amounts of arsenic in her system, but today, she's swimming with it. They wonder if it's a suicide attempt. As they chat, Abby enters the drug lock-up and roots around for something while scratching at the back of her neck. "What's that?" Carter asks. Abby blinks, then pushes down her shirt to reveal the patch. "For birth control?" he asks, I suspect because he's got too little faith in her to think it could possibly be anything else, even though he should already know exactly what her birth control method is. "No, for smoking," she shrugs. "You quit smoking?" he asks skeptically. "Four days ago, yes, thanks for noticing," she retorts with a wry smile, exiting the locker. Carter cocks a toebrow at her. He's so condescending about it. I hate Carter sometimes. Most of the time, actually, these days. Abby blurts that she realized she had to quit the day she wheeled a lung-cancer patient outside so she could smoke through her trach hole. "Really," Carter says flatly, mustering an expression of cold interest. Abby regards him for a second, and then walks away. Carter watches her. At this rate, Gamma's heirloom isn't going to anybody, unless Carter turns it into a cock ring.
Abby calls out to Weaver that Keith is waking up. "Should I call Lewis?" she asks. "It's her patient," Weaver says without turning, because her face betrays her nerves. Then, she's distracted by a commotion in Trauma Green -- Crazy Toe Girl is thrashing around and screaming, because she wants her mother to go away. Weaver figures that CTG is more pleasant than her own conscience, so she tries to help Elizabeth restrain the beast. CTG rages about being locked up at boot camp and how she's the victim of maternal neglect. Weaver calls for two units of Ativan. "Make it four. I could use a good buzz," spits CTG, her toe glaring at Kerry angrily. Mama CTG tearfully insists that she only sent CTG to boot camp because she wanted to help her. "Liar!" screams CTG, booting a tray of instruments right into her mother's face. Elizabeth screams for hard restraints as Weaver escorts a crying, bloody-cheeked Mama out into the hallway. Mama CTG sobs something about how totally freaking insane her hideous daughter is. Kerry responds by leaving to watch Luka pronounce the victim of a hate crime; this provides her a better vantage point from which to stare into Trauma Yellow at Susan removing the tube from Keith's throat.
Creeping into Trauma Yellow, Kerry listens to Susan ask Keith if he's allergic to anything. Keith shakes his head. "Have you taken any new medications?" Susan asks. Keith coughs. "Penicillin," he answers. When pressed, he uncomfortably lies that his ex-girlfriend called and confessed that she had syphilis, and told him she'd taken penicillin for it, so he ganked a friend's strep throat prescription and treated himself. Then his toes glaze over and he chants, "Scientology rocks. All praise L. Ron Hubbard." His toes flicker up to meet Kerry's; she nods, barely perceptibly. Brainwashing complete. Susan sighs and looks at Kerry, who arranges her features into something resembling distress at the human tragedy of it all.
Gallant treats a Russian woman and her screaming baby. He tells Luka that he's waiting for a translator. It's not immediately apparent why the woman is there, except to give Gallant an excuse to be adorable and blow up a rubber glove to amuse the child, and sure enough, the baby is delighted with this floating latex udder. Does he do parties? Gallant cheerfully asks Luka for a letter of recommendation for his school files. Luka refuses and leaves, Gallant gaping after him.
Weaver is at the tail end of a rant into the phone at Alderman Bright's assistant. She screams that he needs to call her, then slams down the phone and more sedately upbraids Luka for skipping out on his mandatory therapy. "We had an agreement," she wheedles. "I never agreed to anything," he insists. "Well, you came back here, didn't you? I told you it was mandatory, didn't I?" She's desperate, almost pleading. Luka barks that he doesn't need to see a shrink, and disappears into Trauma Yellow, which is oddly apropos given what a coward he's being about psychotherapy.
Keith is freaking out about some intense stomach pain. "Belly's rigid," Susan says to an entering Kerry. "Free air under the diaphragm." Weaver examines his chest film and concludes that there's a perforation of the stomach near his intestine. "From the penicillin?" he breathes, terrified. "No," Weaver says. Then he passes out, and Weaver frantically taps his cheek to try and bring him around. Susan watches this with interest. "How hard were you bagging him?" Weaver yells to Abby. Susan says that the cords were swollen shut. "Which is why you don't hyperventilate," seethes Weaver. Abby blinks, hurt. "Don't blame this on her!" Susan snaps. Weaver screams for Corday.
Abby bursts into Trauma Green to get Elizabeth's attention. Crazy Toe Girl is wailing that she can't see. Luka says it's because a retrobulbar hematoma is compressing the optic nerve in her toe. They need to drain the pooling blood. In her toe. They're going to cut. Her toe. Right now.
In the living room, curled up on a large three-seater couch, a relaxed and innocent Heathen is watching television. Suddenly, she bolts upright, screams, and falls over in the other direction, very nearly spilling sacrificial drops of Diet Coke all over the carpet. Curling into a fetal position, she lies there, shuddering, squeezing her toelids shut and singing softly, "If You're Happy And You Know It, Kick Your Feet."
Heathen: Oh my god, I can't watch this.
Lauren: Don't watch. EW, don't watch. Okay, it's over...
H: Oh, thank you Jebus...AAAAH!
L: Noooo, sorry, don't look!
H: I am in HELL. I want to die.
L: Oh, that's just...oh.
H: I might have to turn this recap over to you. All I can do is whimper. I want my mother.
L:Why do you recap a medical show, again?
[phone rings]
H: Hello?
Jessica: Oh my GOD.
H: WHY DO I RECAP A MEDICAL SHOW?
J: I'm so, so sorry. That was so awful. I was sitting here watching that and freaking out on your behalf.
H: I can't see. I can't see out of my left eye. Wait, that's because I can't open my left eye.
J: Do you need me to recap that scene for you?
H: I HAVE LOST MOTOR CONTROL OF MY EYE. I want to die.
J: Well, if you need me...
H: I don't know if I can knowingly put anyone through this. This isn't television. This is hell. This is Satan's napkin at a banquet of brussel sprouts and sautéed evil.
J: Right...Look, it's not a problem. I mean, if there's ever anything on Dawson's Creek about chicken feet or cotton balls, I know I can come to you for help....Hey, do you think this is a shout-out? It's got to be a shout-out!
H: But that's not fair! I'm the one shouting! That's not right. I think it's the opposite of a shout-out.
J:It's a fuck-you.
H: Well. They can take their middle fingers and shove 'em in their...
J: ...Toes.
Somewhere during the wreckage of this scene, Crazy Toe Girl says, "You're the doctor. You know best." And Luka stares at her, or I presume he does; I am ducking so that my laptop blocks the television and all I can do is listen. "You lie," Luka voices over. "Say the same things to different people over and over again until you can hardly make the words come out of your mouth any more. It's hard not to be disgusted at yourself, with the system..." Oh, and according to Lauren, at some point CTG started screaming for her mother, and her mother took her hand, signaling that at least on this level, they're still mother and daughter and her child's pain was more important than Mama CTG's hatred for her kid. It's all very sweet, I'm sure, yet impossible for me to watch, what with the tomfoolery and the knives.
Abby calls out to Elizabeth, "We have a gastric rupture!" Mercifully, beautifully, Elizabeth enters Trauma Yellow and rescues me from my green-tiled chamber of sensory assault. In this moment, she becomes my favorite character in the world. Weaver blames Keith's condition again on the overbagging; Susan contends that he might've had an underlying lesion. Regardless, his pressure's not coming up. Susan is glaring at Kerry and imagining her fiery demise a hundred different ways. "He's allergic to penicillin," she informs Elizabeth, still angry. Elizabeth asks if there's any family. Susan shrugs. "Kerry? Any family?" she asks. Weaver blows this off. "Ask Frank," she says. We fade to black realizing that we can barely focus on what this scene meant because we are still severely grossed out from the other atrocities, and that TPTB should be locked up for all these crimes against viewers -- namely, that one particular viewer lost her ability to view.
When we return, Luka is cleaning up the area around Crazy Toe Girl's foot. He tells her she can go home as long as the bleeding doesn't begin again. Bitterly, CTG spits that her mother would probably like to see her go blind. Luka bristles and tries to argue that CTG's mother secretly cares about her. CTG insists that she doesn't. "What I saw was a scared little girl crying for her mother, and her mother came," Luka oversimplifies. I also saw a whacked-out brat kicking props at her mother, and her mother ran, so I guess there's two sides to every crazy toe. "She'd never let me come home," avers CTG. "Ask her," Luka prods. CTG stares up at him and blinks her toe beseechingly. "Would you?" she asks. Luka stares off into the distance, because he's disturbed and distant, and also they didn't write anything else for him to say.
Keith crashes in the operating room. Weaver is watching from above, about an inch away from flipping her shit like a fluffy pancake.
Some random nasty guy needs a surgical consult, so Romano appears before a waiting Luka and Gallant to provide this service. The verdict: Yes. Just yes. Romano reclines the man's gurney and gets ready to go, but the look of horror on Gallant's face stops him. "Dr. Romano..." he says, warily. Romano looks down and realizes that he has collapsed the gurney onto his gimpy arm, pinching it. Pissed, he tugs it free; there's a nasty scrape on it. "I'm fine," he lies. Luka looks tense. The weight of the damn world is on that man's shoulders -- or if not, it's on his head, in the form of hair gel. Holy moly.
Mrs. Bickerson babbles that she should never have married her husband, and that you only have one shot at lifelong happiness and she blew it. Carter's like, Okay, lady, you have arsenic poisoning and a raging case of diarrh-anvil of the mouth. But this is all we get. Not so long ago, they thought she was trying to kill herself, and now all of a sudden Carter's laughing at her. I don't get it. Dropped plot, maybe? Carter sends her up the elevator and turns around to see a grinning Abby. "'Til death do them part," she giggles. Carter sniffs that those two miserable souls deserve each other. Oh, Carter. If you'd just stop opening your mouth... Carter invites Abby to dinner, but she declines as cagily as she possibly can. "I have a thing," she says. "What thing?" he asks. "I'm meeting someone," she says. The look in his toes implores her to continue. "My AA sponsor," she finally admits. Carter's toes open wide as saucers. "When did this happen?" he chokes. "I just decided maybe it was time to...say hello," she hedges. Carter has the gall to look miffed and superior. God, there's no pleasing some people.
Gallant tells Luka that he wants to apply to do emergency medicine. Luka tells him to give those Bad Idea Jeans back to Carter. "Well, the letter wasn't for my rotation -- it was for my residency application," Gallant adds. "I know," Luka says. Gallant is still dumbfounded that he's getting nothing from Luka. I know how this feels.
They're interrupted by the Russian mother, who is crying in unison with her baby. It's not clear why they were in the ER in the first place, since the baby's only current problem is that he bit into the latex udder and swallowed a piece. That'll teach him to mess with udders, a lesson every tot should learn at the earliest convenience. "It's blocking his airway," Luka announces. He lies the baby down and reaches into its mouth with special udder removal equipment. "I'm good at what I do," he voices over, the sounds of the hospital again fading away. "I have certain skills, certain abilities, that come naturally to me." Gallant frantically asks if he can see anything. "It's not about seeing," Luka whispers. "Others would struggle to get through the day, but I wanted more," Disembodied Luka says. "More urgency, more purpose. The medicine was exciting, powerful, alive." He triumphantly pulls out the latex udder shard and everyone is happy again.
Cut to Confessional Luka. "Today we saved a teenager's sight, I saved a child's life...I didn't feel it," he admits emptily. He shrugs, concerned but detached. "Didn't feel anything," he whispers after a pause. I don't think this is telling us anything new. He's been dead inside for a while. We get it. This is what "Hindsight" was all about. Can we have some foresight now, TPTB? Or in my case, just any sight at all out of my still-broken left toe?
Kerry paces nervously upstairs, waiting for the alderman. Anspaugh appears instead, apologizing for keeping her waiting, assuming she's there for him. "Is Robert here?" he asks, pleasantly. Kerry is confused, so he reminds her about the meeting. Clearly, what with all the Keith and the death and the pacing, she forgot all about it. Kerry asks for a minute; just then, the alderman steps out of the elevator. "I've been trying to reach you," Kerry whispers, breathy and shrill. "Calm down," he says. "This is why we have medical records and nurses' notes," Kerry continues to trill emotionally. The alderman tries to usher her elsewhere. "Keith died," Weaver chokes. "Keith died." Bright seems stunned.
Romano -- perhaps utilizing his unerring instinct for smelling blood in the water -- appears on the scene. "What brings you here?" he asks Bright. "I'm checking on a staff member," Bright says. Hee. "Staff," "member"...That's Keith all right. They make small talk about the budget. "Dr. Weaver did an excellent job of articulating your needs," Bright says. "Well, she's our own little...articulator," Romano says through gritted teeth, fairly certain that she articulated herself all over his "staff member." He notices Weaver skulking away, and calls her on it. "I need a second," she coughs. "You okay?" Romano frowns. Bright changes the subject by asking about Romano's arm, and whether he's seen any further trouble with it. "[Nothing] worse than getting severed in the first place," he replies glibly. Hee. Somehow, Bright manages to extract himself and follow Weaver without arousing suspicion, or indeed anything else.
Bright and Weaver arrive in a private room, although there are still people in scrubs nearby; I'm not sure why Weaver doesn't wait until they're completely alone to give Bright the bullet, but she doesn't, choosing instead to wail-whisper it before the door's even shut. She's the worst at covering her tracks. Chuny already knows the alderman had syphilis, Jerry knows she was trying to stop the lab from being processed, Frank and Susan know Keith was looking for her, and now half the surgical floor knows she's arguing with the alderman in a quiet room. What happened to discretion, or leaving the premises? At any rate, Kerry's almost incoherent. Bright ushers her into another room, and we watch them for a second, barely able to discern words. We can tell she's freaked out and he's trying to calm her down. "Slow down," he is telling her when we cut into their chamber. "We gave him a shot of penicillin, that's what caused it," Weaver babbles, pacing and wringing her hands and gasping for air. "I didn't ask. We always ask. But we always have a chart, and the chart reminds us that we're treating a patient correctly!" The alderman totally wants to slap her, the way everyone slapped that woman in Airplane!, but he doesn't. The alderman is all business, finally insisting to Kerry that he told Keith it would be a penicillin shot and Keith was fine with that, because he didn't know about the allergy -- so this would've happened anywhere, no matter who treated him. This is little comfort to Kerry, who is uncharacteristically unglued.
A nurse knocks on the door. Great hiding place, guys. Top notch. The nurse yells through the glass that Anspaugh and Romano are waiting for Weaver. "Tell them to start without me," Kerry replies emotionally, wiping her eyes. The alderman rubs his face, frustrated. "There's no record of the shot. It's too late for that," he begins. Weaver wants to tell the truth. "No one else knows?" Bright asks carefully. "Keith didn't say anything?" Weaver is disgusted. "Oh my God, Jonathan, he's dead, he's dead," she moans. "It hurts me more than you know," he says pleasantly, as if the loss of Keith smarts as much as a lightly stubbed toe. Weaver thinks his concern is bullshit. "You let the poor kid believe he gave you the syphilis," she spits. Bright insists that he does care, but that he's got to protect himself first, so she must tell him what people know. "I also have to protect you, and I have to protect this hospital, and a dozen other programs..." he says. "What about protecting your staff, your lover?" she seethes. Well, it has a syphilis sore on it, so it's a bit late to protect his staff. Bright takes a step toward Kerry, who continues trying to cower away from him. "This is not your fault," he says. "But if you confess to something like it was, people will treat you like it was." By now, Kerry's in a literal and figurative corner, staring at him through wide, frightened toes. "Don't worry," she says, sickened. "He lied for you. He loved you." The nurse raps on the glass again, still apparently the stupidest nurse alive for not noticing something major was going on in there. "And I killed him trying to hide that for you," Weaver says, nauseated by herself and her actions and his.
Kerry turns to leave. "Yes, you won't want to be late for that meeting," Bright says. "Congratulations, Kerry." Based on his line delivery, he knew full well Anspaugh would be rewarding her with a promotion. Creepy how much he fancies himself a puppeteer. I hate the alderman. He's so smarmy.
Like a zombie, Weaver enters a conference room, where Romano and Anspaugh are deep in discussion. Romano is arguing that he has never let his rehab interfere with his work schedule; Anspaugh merely says that administrative duties are not Romano's strong suit. "Can I come back later?" Weaver pleads emotionally. Anspaugh tells her to sit down. "How long have you been planning this?" Romano spits, ostensibly to Anspaugh, who fills Kerry in: he's making her a joint Chief of Staff. "I'd rather cut off my good arm," Romano snarks. Anspaugh doesn't care. "It's a gift, Robert. I suggest that you take it," he warns. "Take it right up the ass," Romano snaps. And somehow, magically, against all social logic, this seems to be the wrong thing to say. Imagine that. Anspaugh nods curtly and awards Kerry the job in full, then leaves in a huff after darting one last disapproving and disappointed look at Robert. He doesn't offer any other explanation for yanking Romano's title; it's possible it's a combination of them feeling he's slipping, and Kerry's political successes. Kerry gapes emptily, meets Romano's toes for a second, and then stares off into space, well aware that the administration she's being asked to run is the thing she just fatally violated. We fade to black thinking that Laura Innes should get the hell off this show and onto one whose star is rising, not fading.
Elizabeth fixes up the cut on Romano's arm. He's bitter. She's tolerating it. Pretty standard stuff. "What's ? I could cut it while slicing a bagel and not realize it until I pass out from blood loss," he grumbles. "Or, maybe I could set the damn thing on fire." Easy, Rocket. Wait for May sweeps. Elizabeth tsks that he needs to be patient. "Yes, so everyone keeps telling me," he sighs. "Although none of us actually believe I'm even going to partially recover, do we." Elizabeth meets his toes but says nothing. "Do you believe in the laws of karma, Elizabeth?" he asks. "So I can be a jerk. So what? I've always been honest. Brutally honest. Bruised some egos, hurt some feelings, maybe provoked a few tears, but you know, honesty's a hell of a lot more than most people can claim." He pauses, staring at her sadly. "I don't deserve this," he says. This sucks. They made him stupid so they could lop off his arm, and then they turned the story into a tale of office politics, of all things. How terribly boring. Why is it that every story on this show feels like it's been sliced and diced?
Carter catches Abby outside on the way to her meeting. Their discourse is stilted until he finally stops and faces her. "You know, right?" he asks softly. She feigns ignorance. "That night at the restaurant, I had a ring. You knew that, right?" he adds. Abby looks down and shrugs that she figured he'd talk to her about it if he wanted to discuss it. She did not, probably, imagine that he'd stop her on the way to a meeting with her AA sponsor to tell her that he second-guessed spending his life with her. It seems Carter is something of an idiot. With difficulty, he explains that he didn't propose because it didn't feel right. "I don't know why, and I wish I did know why, but I think the fact that I didn't means that maybe there's something that isn't working," he finally admits. Abby stares at her shoes. "I get it," she says. "It's okay. I gotta go." And she does. Which is so typical of her -- rather than have a mature discussion, she just assumes it's over and adds one more mark to the grand He Loves Me Not tally that's she's made synonymous with her life.
Carter chases her. "Well, that's good. Maybe you can explain it to me, because I don't get it," he yells angrily. "I know that I show up at work and you act like a completely changed person, and I think that's great if that's real. The patch, the sponsor..." Abby jerks her head up. That is exactly the reason they don't work: he wants her to be different, and she's generally not ready for that. "'Real'?" she asks, narrowing her toes. "For real, for you. Or is this something that's going to get thrown out the window the time something bad happens?" he shouts. "Because if you're trying to prove to me..." Abby gapes, "What? I didn't do it for you." Carter closes his mouth. "I woke up sick of myself, okay? And you're sick of me, and just...all of it. I don't blame you!" she adds with great self-pity. Carter spits that he doesn't understand how she hears that in his words. Personally, I think she heard it in the silence that replaced his proposal, and the fact that he just basically admitted that he thinks it'd be great if she changed. Carter's as enamored of his role as the put-upon boyfriend as Abby is her role as the put-upon toilet into which life takes a daily dump. "All I ever do is disappoint you. I feel like all I'm ever going to do is disappoint you," Abby wails. "STOP!" Carter screams. "Stop with this whole routine, this whole fatalistic, black cloud, 'nothing good is ever going to happen to me' routine." Also a good point. God, these two are such mopes. Abby shouts that it's not a routine, and tries to storm past him. He grabs her wrists and leans in to her face. "What do I have to do to get through to you?" he begs. Abby is silent. The unsaid words are that he could have proposed to her. He could have wanted her forever instead of just for now. Abby won't look at him, and so Carter stalks off past her and into his car, where he slaps the steering wheel in anguish because he sat down without unwadding his panties. Abby remains rigid for a few seconds, then continues toward her sponsor meeting.
Carter screeches up beside Abby in his repaired car and gets out. She stops and turns; they stare at each other. Abby limply holds out her arms and half-shrugs, I believe as if to say, "This is me, if you can handle it." Carter appears to shake his head. She lowers her arms and walks gingerly toward him, leaning her head onto his shoulder. Slowly, she embraces him and he responds, resting his cheek against her hair. Okay, I have no idea what that was. Either they're going to work on it, or they're realizing they're broken, or what. It might have made things more clear if Abby and Carter didn't look so bored just something. Maybe they are as bored of themselves as we are of them. I guess I think that was their way of trying to reconcile. Apropos of them, it involved no actual helpful communication.
Luka rants at Mama CTG that she needs to provide a stable environment for her insane toe-challenged daughter. Elizabeth shows up for her token twenty-second scene, toting a sweet Ella, and dismisses Luka sternly. He vanishes in a cloud of hot smoke. Mama CTG bitterly spits that she wishes this was the first time her daughter had acted out, but it's not, and she's sick of it all because she's tried to fix things a thousand times before. "Enjoy her while she's this age," Mama CTG nods toward Ella. "She's not old enough to hate you." Elizabeth furrows her brow, aware that Ella will hate her plenty once she sees a photograph of Mark and her doomed DNA.
Gallant is in the lounge when Luka enters to get his coat. Gallant tries to apologize for the baby getting a chunk of udder in his throat, but Luka's okay with it because the kid lived. Then, just as he's about to leave, he pauses. "I think you're one of the best med students that's come through here in a long time," he tells Gallant. "The place will be lucky to have you." Gallant appears confused, then, by Luka's refusal to write him a recommendation letter.
Fortunately for us, Luka is going to explain everything. "A letter from me wouldn't mean much," his disembodied self says. "They only tolerate me. They know I can burn through a shift. Tomorrow..." And here, we cut back to Confessional Luka: "I'll get up and do it again." A woman's voice asks if he's considered taking time off. "Yeah, yeah, maybe moving home, I don't know," he says, sinking lower into the leather chair. Didn't he already take a week off after storming out of the ER? "There's a cartoon I once saw in a magazine [of] a little man sitting in a room with two doors," Luka recounts. "One door says 'Do Not Enter,' and the other door says, 'Do Not Exit.' So, um, he just sits there. Holding his hat." Dude, that sounds like a Ziggy cartoon. Do not tell me Luka is finding inspiration in Ziggy. That little guy never wins.
The camera pulls back to show a woman's leg, bare, her foot in a heeled sandal. "We only have fifteen minutes left," she says. We cut to her face, and it's the Janel Moloney hooker. "Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to get to it?" she purrs. Luka chews on this, then stands up and moves toward her, his crotch headed tantalizingly toward the camera. Oh God make it stop, that's so mean.
Chen shows up at the front desk dressed in a tight red tank top and a black miniskirt, crowing that she can go straight to the casino once they arrive. "Where you can sing backup for Tony Orlando," Frank snarks. "Who?" Chen asks blankly. Oh, honey, who are you kidding? Wake up and smell the anti-wrinkle cream. Susan promises to meet her outside. As she erases the last of her patients from the board, her toes are drawn up to a news conference held by the alderman. It's on the night's newscast, and we can see Kerry over Bright's right shoulder. He is babbling about how lovely and idealistic Keith was, and how sudden and tragic and heartbreaking his death was. The captioners have the speech going very differently, referring to statistics on drug-allergy deaths; we don't hear any of that. It's all just glowing, gushy Keith stuff. Weaver exits the lounge and stops near the desk to watch the conference, her skin almost green. Susan turns and looks long and hard at her boss. Weaver's tired toes meet Susan's disappointed ones. Then Weaver heads home, trudging her way into the fierce wind.