Blood Relations

S10E15

Vicky's baby is crowning, and I turn my head away due to my fear of all things that require copious stretching of the vaginal cavity. To wit, the word "tear" is invoked, and I shudder. "I hate the word 'tear,'" Lauren whimpers. "This show is the most wonderful birth-control tool," I agree. Susan's in charge of the delivery, while Carter putters around and helps. Susan is brave. She's watching the exact rending of tissue and expulsion of oversized human matter that's going to happen to her in a few months, and she's not even joking about stitching herself shut to protect herself from it. Vicky seems fine, but wigs when Carter explains that they think her family has carbon monoxide poisoning, because it's common in winter when improperly vented heaters are cranked up high. Vicky doesn't understand why she didn't pass out, too. Neela gropes for the answer, runs it through her mental Jargonizer, and recites, "Fetal hemoglobin has a higher affinity for CO." Vicky's all, "Wha? Fertile hobgoblins hire infinity Theos?" Somewhere, Malcolm-Jamal Warner pumps his fist and calls his agent in gleeful anticipation of all that work. Susan sighs that Neela really needs to speak English to the patients. "Sorry," Neela gulps. "Don't apologize, just explain," says Susan curtly, clarifying for Vicky that the baby's blood greedily shoplifted the carbon monoxide, thereby leaving very little of it for her bloodstream. Hooray for Vicky, but boo for her child, which will pop out of the womb feeling like it's spent the last several hours romancing the exhaust pipe on their minivan.

Neela bolts to Trauma Green to get...something...and Pratt's in there treating the convulsing Nolan. "How's the mom?" he asks. "Lucky she was pregnant," says Neela. Malik bursts in and tells Pratt that Malarkey needs him. As Pratt is otherwise occupied holding down his twitching patient, he suggests that perhaps Malarkey should stop trying to find his own spine by peering up his crap chute and treat the damn patient himself. "Let me rephrase that: his patient needs you," Malik stresses. Annoyed, Pratt leaves Nolan with Gallant -- Hey, Gallant! Hi! Smooches -- and skips off.

Malarkey treats the girl in Trauma Colorless while Abby works on Little Lord Upchuck. The girl is moaning about wanting her mommy. Malarkey's like, "Yeah, whatever, hold on." I think he's confusing "bedside manner" with "Mom, don't talk to me while I'm trying to light a bowl." Convinced that he's going to be right, and apparently blind to his track record, Malarkey asks Pratt whether he needs to bother with a blood gas when the girl's pulse ox is fine. You'd think Malarkey would remember that he's an ignorant knobgobbler, but why be self-aware when you can be blissful and dumb? "I told him that," Abby insists. She's referring to the test, not the knobgobbler thing, although I'm sure she is wishing she'd pointed that out, too. Pratt snorts that the two tests show different things, and since carbon monoxide latches to hemoglobin, the blood gas is indeed necessary. "Told him that, too," Abby mutters. "Damn, who's the resident here?" spits Pratt. I really, really don't understand what the show gains from having Malarkey around. With the exception of one scene with Coop, he's shown fewer layers than a sheet of toilet paper in an airport bathroom. I can't understand why the writers think the character justifies the actor's paycheck -- he adds nothing, absolutely nothing, to the show. Did Scott Grimes catch John Wells in a compromising position? Did he threaten to go public with his discovery that the show's actually written by a room full of radioactive turnips? As if to show his disdain, Vomiting Clay fires it up again and chucks some stomach fluid into an emesis basin. "Is my family dying?" he asks pathetically.