By Couch Baron
"Mr. Big Stuff" plays as an RV zips down a mountain road. Irv tells us that "everyone has a last line of defense against the mayhem and sorrow of this world." I could see that. Being able to take a shower while cooking breakfast would be a big time-saver. Oh, Irv's talking about a "Doctor Gretchen Trott," who apparently serves as "touchstone" to some of Everwood's residents. Well, as they like it, then. On Main Street, Patch honks as he tries to get to his normal spot, only to find that Doctor Trott's RV is occupying his space and several others. Well, this should be entertaining. Disrupting an obsessive-compulsive Mensa member's morning routine should certainly lead to a memorable insult or two. Anyway, Patch pulls into an empty spot, and the new location isn't enough to stop Treat from doing his normal simul-park to him. There's no silver lining for Patch this morning. Treat asks Patch what the RV is in aid of, and is informed that it's a "shrink-mobile." Treat, see if she has a family rate. I'm sure she must, as she's been to Everwood before. Patch and Treat push past the crowd forming on the sidewalk as Patch exposits that Dr. Trott is a psychologist with a Masters in social work. From his level of disdain, you'd think she obtained her credentials by being the thirteenth caller in a radio contest sponsored by the American Psychiatric Association. Dr. Trott emerges, and we see that she's played by Ally McBeal's Jane Krakowski. I never saw a single episode of that show, so I'm going to reserve judgment on her. But to rip off an expression from one of my favorite writers, Florence King, I'll be watching her with a jaundiced eye.
Patch greets her as "Gretchen," further underscoring his lack of respect for her, while she professionally calls him "Doctor Abbott." I'm giving Patch the benefit of the doubt and opining that his antipathy here comes from general misanthropy, and not misogyny. After all, his wife is the mayor. Not to mention the fact that his mother chews up railroad spikes and spits out nails. Patch berates Gretchen (it's easier to type, people) for parking in front of his office when they "discussed" the desirability of her finding a "more convenient" place to see her patients. Gretchen measuredly replies that he did make that view known. "I might call it a rumination rather than a conversation." Patch says that regardless of that distinction, she needs to move so he can park there. She cheerily informs him that until she gets an official request to do so, she's not going anywhere. He blusters some more, but she's had enough: "I heard you use territorialism to establish superiority. While I can respect a narcissistic impulse, I'm under no obligation to cater to it." Hee, although I'm sure I've heard such words directed at me before. Treat, highly amused, introduces himself, and there go Gretchen's panty shields. She babbles that she's a fan, and Patch better march himself across the street, because he's got two detached retinas all of a sudden. Treat and Gretchen exchange some more compliments, the purpose of which is to annoy Patch further. And an annoyed Patch is a hilarious Patch, so Gretchen can stay a while. She excuses herself, and Treat says he likes her. Patch: "You would. Oh, how could anyone in their right mind take that nomadic quack's insight seriously?" Well, I'm no scriptwriter, but it seems to me that that line should cue the entrance of the town wacko. And just like that, Mrs. Baxworth springs into view. Off-camera, she shrieks a hello to Gretchen, and Patch exasperatedly storms off as Treat grins his way into the opening credits.
High school. Ephram and Amy are painting some decorations for something in the auditorium. It's not easy to tell in this light, but I think Ephram's dropped the purple hair. Let's all have a moment of silence. Amy seems not to be holding Ephram's lie against him at all, which makes me realize, looking back at the episodes I've recapped, that although she's going to have one bitchy scene not too far off, she was generally fairly likable. Especially in contrast with the A-MEMEMEMEME! she's become. Anyway, they exposit that the scenery is for the Everwood Swans' ballet recital, which is apparently such a big deal, "it's a mad dash to see who gets the best seats." The sum total of all the comments that popped into my mind about that is "whatever," so let's move on. More exposition about the fact that the girls get flowers, but Amy's not expecting any, because Colin was the only one who brought them for her. That's a preposterous plot point. Patch would have bought her so many roses that Pasadena would have been forced to rename its Bowl. Amy checks her watch, and notes that Colin's parents' appointment with Treat is almost over. Ephram tells her not to sweat it, as he can't remember that last time Treat turned anyone down. "Colin's surgery's a done deal." Boy, you'd think a boy that lost his mom at fifteen would know better than to take anything for granted. Amy says that she watched a program on comas the other night, and that people who came out after long periods of time barely even looked human. Wing Chun has said that Uma Thurman looks like Madame now, so I guess Kill Bill makes sense after all. Jeez, where'd that come from? Amy goes on that their faces were frozen in a silent scream, and their hands were curled up into useless balls. That's how Djb looked at the end of sweeps. Ephram haltingly asks if she's sure she wants Colin back, and I understand where he's going with this, in terms of the incredible pressure it's going to put on both of them, but he doesn't do a great job of expressing himself. And also? Saying he's a little close to the situation is like saying that there's a little too much unscripted programming on TV these days. (Again, I refer you to the image of Djb.) Anyway, Amy firmly says that she wants Colin back, no matter what. We shall see.
Train station. Treat exposits that Colin's care so far has been exemplary, but that there's a bone chip in Colin's brain stem, and while his doctors don't believe that's what's causing his coma, he does. He also opines that he can remove the chip without damaging the stem, although he's never performed that particular procedure before. The Harts are discomfited to hear that the surgery would be an "experiment of sorts," and I can't say I blame them. Parents may generally want their kids to make history, but I don't think this particular case is what they would have in mind. Mrs. Hart asks what would happen if the brain stem did get damaged, and Treat informs her of what we all learned in ninth-grade biology: It would impair his motor and involuntary functions, and he might die. On the other hand, if they don't operate, while Colin might emerge from the coma on his own, Treat doesn't think he will. Mr. Hart asks what Treat thinks they should do. Treat doesn't want to say, but Mr. Hart puts him on the spot: "If it were your son." Treat's expression subtly shifts. Nice acting.
That said, I'm not sure I completely buy this plotline. I know it's a huge decision to commit your son to possible fatal surgery, but I can't imagine that any competent doctor would have given the Harts any hope of Colin recovering on his own. In addition, Amy pointed out that the longer the person's in the coma, the more lasting damage it does, so a wait-and-see approach with the surgery shouldn't be an option either. And on top of that, even if Colin did wake up on his own, wouldn't leaving the chip in his brain stem be a major health risk for him down the road? I don't know. It just seems like the surgery is the option that at least has a chance for a happy ending, and these people, even the Harts, should know enough to realize that. Of course, if they did, it would deny Tom Amandes a chance to show off his chops later in the episode, so on further consideration, let us never speak of it again.
Mama Joy's. Patch and Treat are eating together as usual when Gretchen enters to pick up a take-out order. Patch asks Treat if he's ever been to a shrink, but Treat always thought he could solve his problems on his own. Treat turns the question around, and Patch sniffs that he'd sooner talk to Treat. Hee. Can't you just picture these two at a bar spilling their issues? Oh, you've watched the show before. So you can picture it. The server babbles that he made her sandwich with the wrong pickles, and over her protestations, he psychobabbles some stuff about doing better as he says he'll remake it. Patch snarks that Gretchen thrives on the insecurity and self-loathing of her patients. "You come into town every few months, needlessly stir up neuroses like lawnmowing in the Dust Bowl." Hee. It makes no sense, but it sounds funny. He goes on that she rides into town like "the Joan of Arc of Gestalt." If only Joan of Arc had had an RV. She could have made roadkill of that kangaroo court that executed her. Patch goes on that someone has to pick up the pieces Gretchen leaves behind, and she asks how that makes him feel. Ah, she's finally waving a red flag at Patch's bull. He blusters, "Do shrinks have that implanted on a chip somewhere? Memorize a few key phrases, buy a couch, you're Sigmund Freud? You never actually say anything. For God's sake, get to the point!" Gretchen speculates that perhaps Patch derives satisfaction from, as he put it, "picking up the pieces." Patch is stunned. "Don't make me out to be some sort of misery-loving, parasitic egomaniac!" Oh, Patch, I wouldn't say you're parasitic. Gretchen points out that those are his words again as she gets her food. She breezes out with a "Try to stay evidence-based, Harold. Don't be so hard on yourself." Heeee hee hee. Gretchen is kind of rocking my world here. I know, I'm as surprised as you are.
Magilla's room. He and Delia are dancing to some pop song. Magilla asks if she knows what the song's about. She says she does, but she doesn't. He tells her it's about sex, and asks if she even knows what that is. Delia: "Duh!" That's a Cher Horowitz answer, in content and delivery, which is fitting, since she knew about as much about sex as Delia does. Magilla closes the door to his bedroom, and I wonder where they're going with this discussion. With all the medical drama so far, a game of "Doctor" certainly seems fitting. But no. First Magilla turns up the music, and the two of them start rocking out. They've got better rhythm than most adults on TV. Maybe the music was actually playing during the scene. Magilla then gets out a box of makeup he took from his mom. They both apply rouge, lipstick, and eyeliner in copious amounts. Magilla particularly looks like he could give Tammy Faye Baker a run for her money. Oh, I suppose referring to "her money" is a bit of a sore spot for some of people, but what's done is done. Anyway, Magilla puts on a lavender tiara and grabs a matching wand, and suddenly this butch kid is ready to march in the Halloween parade in the West Village. Not that I haven't seen bigger transitions. Not that I haven't dated bigger transitions. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Magilla's mom comes in and observes this rather festive tableau. She immediately announces that it's time for Delia to go home. Yup, been there too.
Chez Brown. Ephram enters as Treat's finishing up a phone call. Ephram asks if it was about Colin, and Treat confirms that. Ephram asks what happened, and Treat way too breezily tells him that the Harts declined to pursue the surgery. Ephram can't believe Treat's not going to push harder, but Treat fakely says that doctors don't have all the answers. Ephram leaves the room in a huff, and Treat's face falls. Great job on "doing it on your own," Brown. Oh, not like that. That's Ephram's job. Anyway, Treat? Get your shit together, stat.
High school. Ephram's composing some music when Amy finds him. He hides the sheet behind his back really obviously. Stealth, thy name is not Ephram. Cuteness is another story. He says he's sorry about the Harts' decision, and Amy sighs that she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Ephram proceeds to inflate them again by suggesting that she try to change the Harts' minds. Wise, thy name is not Ephram either. Anyway, scene.
Elementary school. Magilla totally blows off Delia's request to play with her. When she asks why, he snits, "Because last time I got in trouble, moron." Well, by that logic, he might as well send Mary Kay a nasty letter. He starts to go, but turns back and more softly tells her that his mom said he couldn't play with her. Poor Delia. Nothing ever goes right for her. Aside from the piles of money she sleeps on.
Treat is examining a mole on Gretchen's back. "Let's check it again time you're in town." Possibly from a different angle. He asks when she'll be back. The answer is February sweeps. They get onto the subject of Treat's free medicine. Treat claims he's simply being altruistic, but Gretchen wasn't born yesterday, although her skin-care regime looks to be thorough enough that she'd like you to think so. She theorizes that the average level of neurosis is similar in most people, and it's just the range of self-awareness that differs. "I call it the denial factor." Well, I'd say Treat is firmly at the "total" end of the spectrum. The good news is that he can spend more time with Patch. Anyway, this goes on until Treat asks what happens to people who deny their neuroses. Gretchen tells him it varies, but total emotional breakdown is possible. Treat looks worried, as well he should. Of course, he might get to chat with his wife again that way.
Amy's setting the table when Bright walks in with a jacket. Upon learning that he has a date, she freaks, as she was counting on him to back her up with the Harts. Bright says he's got one shot with "Gemma Maxwell, and Mom's tuna cornflake casserole? Not gonna seal the deal." I'm unfazed by this development, because I think Gemma's a drag queen. I mean, it took me three seconds to come up with "Gemma D. Ocean" as her stage name. And having seen Gemma, I'm not exactly inclined to alter my theory. Anyway, Amy starts babbling at Get This Girl A Paper Bag speed, but Bright opines that they shouldn't be getting involved, and now that the Harts have made their decision, it's a lost cause. He leaves. Amy yells after him, "What is wrong with you? Don't you want him back?" That's a story for another time, dear.
Chez Brown. Ephram dumps enough salt onto his food to make the Dead Sea seethe with jealousy, prompting Treat to ask if it's that bad. Ephram: "Depends. What is it?" Treat: "Point taken." Hee. I really thought Treat would have given up the ghost by now. Then again, we know he's not good at doing that. Thank you! Try the...whatever it is! Treat notices that Delia's bluer than a Chris Rock special. She tells him about Magilla, and Treat is concerned to hear that his mother has barred him from playing with Delia. Ephram instructs Treat to talk to Magilla's parents, and Treat's like, that's a good idea! Delia? Take a look at Ephram's face. That's an appropriate expression of "duh."
Chez Abbott. Mrs. Hart compliments Rose's cooking. Unfortunately, Amy's made the coffee, and it's kind of bitter. She starts in immediately, basically implying that the Harts don't care about Colin. Not only is she completely out of line, but her attitude is also totally inconsistent with the one she had earlier in the episode. She wasn't even going to talk to the Harts before Ephram suggested it -- why the vehemence now? Mrs. Hart graciously allows all this, and by the way, here's another character that I got the best of. She tells Amy there's nothing they can do. In a more conciliatory, but just as urgent, tone, Amy says that people used to fly halfway around the world for a consultation with Treat, and they have him right there in Everwood. "And he wants to help us." Mrs. Hart: "No. No he doesn't. We agreed that Colin should have the surgery, and it was Doctor Brown that changed his mind." Amy? When you assume, you make an ass of you and...well, you. Don't drag me into it.
Chez Magilla. Treat's brought some ice cream as a gesture of goodwill, and that's the best idea he's had all episode. Delia thinks the parents don't want them to come in, as they've rung the doorbell four times already. Four times? Wow. I'd be worried they were loading the shotgun. Magilla's mom finally answers, and Treat gregariously introduces himself. As he's babbling, Mother Magilla acts as uncomfortable as if her Aunt Flo just dropped by unexpectedly while she was wearing white pants. Treat says that there's been a misunderstanding, and Mother Magilla asks if he really wants to discuss this in front of Delia. Treat, I don't care if Everwood no longer has a station -- find a way to take a ride on the clue train. In fact, get a sleeper car. No, as Daddy Magilla appears, Treat babbles in a Ha Ha, Those Silly Kids voice that he can't believe it, because Delia's such a tomboy, but she and Magilla were playing dress-up, and although he can assure them that such behavior is patently normal at that age, it won't happen again if it bothers them. No, Treat, it won't, as Daddy Magilla, who didn't know about the incident, tells Treat to keep Delia away from Magilla, end of story. Mother Magilla adds an order for them not to come back, and closes the door. Delia plaintively asks Treat if there's something wrong with her, but he assures her that's not the case. Aw. The Browns certainly used to be the punching bags of this show, didn't they?
School. Ephram's working on the song at the piano. It says "For Amy" on the paper, and the subtitle appears to be "Ceci n'est pas un bouquet." So he's writing her the song in place of flowers, which is horribly sweet, and he speaks French? People should be coming from halfway around the world for a consultation with him. Although I'm not sure the Magritte-esque construction of that sentence really works, but it's Ephram. He can butcher cultural references at me all the livelong day. Amy enters and snottily asks why he didn't tell her. Ephram doesn't know what she means, but he's guessing he might be changing the subtitle of that song pretty soon. Or at least change it to a minor key. Amy tells him about Treat's refusal to do the surgery, and Ephram can't believe it. "My dad's never met long odds he didn't like." Well, that explains why he keeps trying to be friends with Patch. Amy asks if Ephram's sure he didn't know about this, and he earnestly tells her she's the only person he cares about in the town, and he's not lying. Amy still looks upset, but she clearly believes him.
Patch enters his office. He hands Louise his scarf and spits out a bunch of orders about coffee and chairs and color-coding before barrelling by into his office without so much as a "please." I love him, but if I were in her shoes, I'd be a little creative in the way I served him that coffee. It would be hilarious if he had to go to Treat for burn treatment in a particular area. Louise visibly thinks to herself, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!" Done steeling herself, she calls, "Good morning, Doctor Abbott!" He reemerges from his office, puzzled. She basically schools him to be more polite and less condescending to her, and adds that she wasn't hired to make coffee. Boy, she should talk to Strega. Louise asks if he understands. He looks at her like she's sprouted a second head, but says yes. Louise: "You're the one who told me my lack of assertiveness was limiting my career potential, so I signed up with Dr. Trott. You can hang your own scarf." Hee. Patch gives a series of grand facial expressions, head-shakes, and fake smiles that all add up to "Oh, NOT." Sometimes it's all in the journey. He barrels out...
...straight into Gretchen's RV. He berates her for turning "normal" people into freaks. "You wreck people's lives, and you charge them for it. You're like a televangelist!" Hee. That's amusing enough, but we could use someone who dresses like a televangelist to complete the comedy. And here's Mrs. Baxworth again to oblige. Gretchen physically throws Patch out of the RV and closes the door, wishing him a good day. He screams that it is NOT a good day, and bangs on the door like a lunatic. Patch, I think you and Treat need to have a brandy or two together, posthaste. Either that, or play dress-up.
Delia enters Treat's office, still looking as glum as someone whose new apartment doesn't have broadband capability. She tells Treat that Magilla wasn't in school, and what's more, Miss Violet told her he wasn't coming back. Treat starts bitching about the parents, and says they're going over there again until Edna screams at him to get into his office. Inside, she tells him that as "Doctor Sourpuss's nurse," she was privy to some information that she wouldn't ordinarily disclose, but...Magilla was born with ambiguous genitalia, "what some in the profession call 'pseudo-hermaphrodite.'" She tells Treat that Magilla's parents took him to a specialist in Denver, and "this genius" suggested, consistent with the prevailing wisdom, that since Magilla had fairly well-formed male genitalia and looked masculine, they should simply raise him as a boy. Oy. I'm in over my head here, but it seems to me that gender stereotyping is bad enough when the kid in question is indisputably, you know, one gender. ["I'm in over my head also, but here's some reading, if anyone's interested." -- Sars] Treat muses that the situation will only get more complicated as Magilla gets older, and that he should talk to the parents. Edna sternly tells him that he won't be able to change the parents' ideas about how to raise their child. Treat starts to protest, but she shuts him down: "There are some things that you can't fix!"
And it's time for another sidebar. I won't be offended if you skip ahead. I agree with Edna in principle -- Treat needs to learn that he's not the answer to every one of life's problems, and to learn when to butt out. But I think she might be wrong in this case. She and Treat both know that the kid is going to suffer some severe psychological scarring as a result of the way he's being raised. In addition, this is an extremely rare situation they're dealing with, so if there's a chance he could help educate them about it, I think he owes it to the kid to approach his parents once as a doctor instead of a father. It's a fine line, and I can see both sides of the argument, but as a gay man, I have some experience in wishing parents were a bit more enlightened about certain things. And frankly, I think Magilla's situation is far more complex. Anyway.
Chez Brown. Ephram is petulantly tying a tie. In case you were worried that there were things he couldn't do without looking peeved, this should put your fears to rest. Treat exposits that they're going to the recital, and asks if Amy's excited. Ephram bites out that she's still too pissed off. Treat offers up some platitudes, and says they have to respect what the Harts decided. Ephram reads Treat the riot act, saying that Amy was counting on him. "She's not used to being let down by you. Not yet." Boy, it's a good thing Treat's so cheerful by nature. You'd think it would get depressing to have your son continually treat you like something he scraped off his shoe. Treat explains that the Harts asked him what he would do if it were his son, and he said it was risky, and it's too tempting to pick surgery as a solution. Note that Treat doesn't say that he outright refused to do the surgery here. Baaad Treat. Despite Treat's lack of forthrightness, though, Ephram basically tells him that his argument is complete and utter bullshit, and if it were him in the coma, Treat would totally operate. Treat tries to stare Ephram down, but Ephram's right, and everyone knows it. Hell, even Colin knows it.
Recital. Treat asks a woman who has the two seats adjacent to her empty if she would mind moving over. She psychobabbles an answer that makes Treat correctly guess she's a patient of Dr. Trott's. Ha ha, Trott. Oh, sorry, I wanted something that rhymed with that last word. Treat and Delia sit down, and then Treat notices that Patch has a couple seats saved. "You've got this thing down!" Patch: "I read The Art Of War." Hee. Patch says he had to wait three hours for the seats. Rose: "He brings his backlog of medical journals." Thanks for stopping by, Rose. You can go hang out with your son now, and don't think I'm not jealous. Patch leans forward and tells Treat he heard about his decision. "It's what I'd do; it's the more cautious choice." Treat says he's glad Patch agrees. Patch: "I said it's what I'd do." Man, Treat must just be wearing a sign on his back that says "SCHOOL ME, PLEASE." Actually, it's not just this episode, is it? Maybe it's a tattoo.
Backstage, Mrs. Hart presents Amy with a bouquet, saying that Colin would never forgive her if she didn't make sure Amy got flowers. "I know he would give anything to be here." She embraces Amy. I'd castigate Amy for the lack of a "thank you" here, but we're going to find out quickly that words aren't exactly forthcoming for her at the moment. Mrs. Hart leaves, and Ephram appears. She murmurs that Colin isn't coming back, and seems to withdraw into herself. Ephram rushes out to get the Abbotts. I don't know where Bright is. Probably wondering what that thing is between Gemma's legs. Patch rushes to Amy, picks her up, and leaves with Rose in tow. Treat's there for the sole purpose of getting a baleful look from Ephram. Dinner at the Brown house is just getting more and more fun. I think Treat's cooking is now the least painful part of the experience.
Chez Magilla. Mother Magilla answers the doorbell to find Treat there. She tries to tell him to go away, but the beard is not so easily dismissed. She asks him to meet her at the side door. I thought the side door was reserved for lovers and drug dealers. Maybe Treat will run into Tommy there. Mother Magilla comes out the side door, and Treat asks if she and Daddy Magilla pulled Magilla (oh, since I'm running out of time, I suppose I should mention that Magilla's real name is Stuart) out of school because of what happened with Delia. Mother Magilla's like, oh, no no no! Why ever would you think that? We've been thinking of sending him to a BOYS' school anyway, where he can play with other BOYS and not get any weird ideas from GIRLS. Because he is a BOY. Treat happily punctures her fake cheer with a brass tack. He says he knows about Magilla's condition, and although he's ethically bound not to reveal what he knows to anyone, he'd like to help, as a doctor. She whines that they've been to doctors, and they just want to put the whole thing behind them. Yeah, this is the attitude that makes me wonder if Treat wasn't right to want to intervene. I mean, "putting it behind you"? I've got news for you, Mother Magilla: Later versions of "dress-up" may be reminiscent of Madonna's Blonde Ambition tour. And if you think no one else at an all-boys' school would want to play? Think again. Treat earnestly tells Mother Magilla that kids like Magilla are very special. "They've got a lifetime of empathy inside of them by the time they turn ten, and that's a tremendous gift." Treat's words fail to move MM, so he switches tacks. "I would like to ask you to do one thing for me. For my daughter."
Cut to two cars facing each other on some road. Delia and Magilla each get out of each of their parent's cars. The scene is shot in such a way that it calls to mind a prisoner exchange. Well, that would be an interesting twist. For all of Treat's talk about how special Magilla is, I'd sure like to see him stumble over a custom-made "birds and the bees" lecture. Hee. They approach each other, and Delia tells him she brought him the hat he likes. He denies any affinity for it, but she calls bullshit, and he takes it. He tells her it's too small, and people will know it's from a girl, and he hates girls. Delia counters that she hates boys. Magilla, dropping the bravado, asks if she hates all boys, and she tells him no. The Piano Of Tearful Goodbyes plinks plaintively. Magilla says he doesn't really hate girls. They wish each other goodbye, and Magilla uses Delia's name for the first time that we've heard. God, even the nine-year-old bullies make you cry on this show. It's just not fair. He puts the hat on as he walks back to the car. Sniff. Oh, but it's not over yet. In the car, Treat asks Delia how it went, and she says fine, in a tone that's farthest from fine. He tries to tell her that maybe she and Magilla can keep in touch, and at her silence, assures her that she'll make new friends. Delia, not looking at him: "I don't want to make new friends. I don't want to say goodbye to people anymore." The Piano Of Everyone's Crying Now, For Real finishes its piece.
A smiling Amy catches Ephram in the hall, and he notes that she looks better. She starts babbling like she's been mainlining speed. It would be hilarious to see her do ballet in that condition. Ephram tries to get her to tell him how she's really doing, but she insists she's fine, and then realizes she was supposed to meet her bitch friends to go to the mall. She books. Ephram, I hope that song you're writing for Amy is in the key of C. For "CRAZY."
Edna is telling someone that if he wants to see Treat, she needs a reason. "You could be the Unabomber for all I know." Of course, it's Patch. Hee! That was fairly predictable, but the image of Patch as the Unabomber is just too precious. Although I certainly don't think that the Unabomber's Manifesto would allow a drycleaning budget as high as Patch's. Anyway, Patch is like, not today, Mom, and goes in to Treat's examining room to talk to him alone. Edna approaches the door like she's Treat's bodyguard. Well, if the shoe fits, shove it up someone's ass.
Inside, Patch and Treat exchange a bit of small talk until Patch gets to the point. "The first day you came here, you thought you recognized me." Treat did say that in the pilot, but I didn't mention it because I forgot it wasn't a throwaway. Stupid show, not telegraphing its foreshadowing. Patch tells Treat that he was finishing up at "the VA" when Treat got there, and while there's no reason Treat should remember him, Treat was harder to miss. "Even then we all knew we were in the presence of something...greater than ourselves." He goes on that the Chief would describe each of Treat's accomplishments with jealousy, almost hatred. Treat says he thought the Chief liked him. Patch chuckles. "He hated you!" Hee. Well, at least we know Treat isn't getting more clueless as he gets older. It certainly wouldn't bode well for his patients if he were -- someone might get a tongue depressor in a place where it doesn't belong. Unless you're into that kind of thing. Speaking of clueless, where was I? Oh, Patch goes on that Treat's accomplishments made the Chief abandon his own dreams of greatness, and he wasn't alone. Treat starts to form a thought -- "So you were going to be..." Well, he's not getting any less clueless, either. Oy. Treat, why don't you come sit up front?
Patch says that yes, he was going to be a surgeon, but he realized he didn't have the hands for it. Aw. So he became a family doctor: "No small thing, in times like these. But you -- you are a man with a gift much larger than yourself. Larger, even, than your own hopelessly bloated ego, if that's possible." Hee. Don't butter him up, Patch. Treat thanks him. Again, hee. Patch, emotion starting to rise in his voice, says that the Harts don't know who Treat is, or what he can do, but he does. "I know, and you know, somewhere, within the world's thickest dura, you owe it to this kid to perform whatever miracle you've got up your sleeve! You owe it to Colin, and to his parents, and to my" -- his voice breaks -- "poor heartbroken daughter and to the universe, or whoever decided that you would be Leonardo and I would be...less remarkable; hell, you owe it to me." As I said before, I forgive Treat his earlier dithering, because otherwise, we wouldn't have had this scene. Best speech ever, and not just because of the acting, which was phenomenal. But it gives a credible explanation for the obvious complexity of Patch's feelings toward Treat. This, to me, is where Patch became a real character instead of an incredibly amusing oddball, and I didn't see it coming at all. Bravo.
Auditorium. Ephram's playing the song he wrote when Amy joins him. He again rather clumsily and tiresomely tries to hide it. Here's an idea, Ephram: WORK ON IT AT HOME. Did I just yell at Ephram? I must do penance. I guess I'll finally have to watch Newlyweds. Anyway, she says that when she told him she was okay the day before, it wasn't true. Well, Ephram has his clueless times, but he's nowhere near Treat-level. I think he had that one figured out. She tells him some story from fourth grade about a field trip and getting on the wrong bus and Colin walking three miles to look for her. Can you tell I'm almost done with this recap? Anyway, once Amy's done with her sob story, Ephram tells her that the song he was playing was something he wrote for her. She asks him to play it for her, in spite of the fact that it's not finished. He plays. How are they not kissing right now?
The song continues as we move to Main Street. Irv tells us that we come to depend on our touchstones, whether we want to or not, but they're not permanent. Yeah, yeah. We all know that Gretchen is going to be motor-homing out of there soon, so let's wrap it up. Gretchen is preparing to leave when Treat appears and asks her if she's got time for "one more hopeless case." I'd suggest you two order dinner, because this might take a while.
Inside, Treat tells Gretchen that Colin's parents wouldn't authorize the surgery. She asks him if he believed he could heal Colin. He says he believed it was the best course of action, but she cuts him off. "Not the surgery; the surgeon. You." He says he wasn't thinking about himself, but then admits that he just lied. "In the end, it was me. I told them I wouldn't do it." Gretchen opines that he was scared, and Treat admits that Ephram told him the same thing. "It was easier before, when I didn't know so much about my patients, and I didn't care." Gretchen repeats something he told her, that he moved to Everwood to be a father and a doctor, and points out that now he is. He tells her he didn't know it would be so hard. Gretchen: "Welcome to the human race, Doctor Brown." Treat looks like he doesn't so much want to be a member. Too late.
Gretchen's RV pulls away from the curb. I am shocked to say that I was prepared to detest this character, and she didn't annoy me in the slightest. In fact, I kind of like her. Of course, this makes me remember that some recappers never get pleasant surprises, which in turn makes me think how overdue for a bad show I really am. And considering the palpable pain some of my fellow staff members endure on a weekly basis, that really brings a chill to my spine. Treat watches her drive away. Don't worry, Treat, she'll be back for another bodily exam. A much more enjoyable one.