Day breaks in California and it is already sunny and people are already getting busy (in bed) because it is California and that is how they roll (in bed). Justin is using Rebecca as an anatomy study guide because in his magically combined BA/MD program it's not the organic chemistry or the physical chemistry or the biochemistry that is giving Justin such a rough time, no, it's memorizing the damn bones of the arm. First it was fingers and then the wrist and now the stupid ulna. Shut up! We get it, memorizing is soooooo hard. Harrumph. Anyway, Rebecca staves off his kisses long enough to tell him that she is going wedding dress shopping with Kitty today. She helped Kitty pick out her wedding dress, so it was only fair to reciprocate. There is some reference to a slutty bride, which I am going to ignore to see if it dies a slow painful death at the hands of irate feminists, and then Justin starts naming MORE bones of the body and I kick out my television screen. The End.

Okay fine. Justin is starting gross anatomy today and Rebecca tells him not to be nervous because nothing happens on the first day, thus dooming him to some form of educational execution. For science! Justin says that they get assigned lab partners today and Rebecca perks up and looks at him suspiciously and says that he had better not get randomly assigned a hot lady lab partner. And, honey, I am totally with you on this. While I have grown accustomed to these two being paired off, I can not (will not!) tolerate yet another needy Narcotics Anonymous hottie, another half-sibling almost (but not quite!), or, really, any other cheekbone-riddled seductor attempting to tear these two apart. Seriously, writers, there are other plotlines floating in the giant cauldron of ideas. Go fish for one.

To remind us that life is not happy and fun-filled and giggly, we now turn to Kitty, Nora, and The Senator sitting in a row in the doctor's office waiting for Kitty's test results. While Nora has a good feeling about it, the doctor quickly dispels it. She walks in, throws some CT scans up on the light board, and cuts right to the chase: the cancer has spread to Kitty's lungs, bowels, and the area behind her abdominal cavity. Okay, I will have to admit that I never thought I would be writing about Calista Flockhart's bowels. It's like I write for TMZ or something! Kitty is sort of stunned at the rapid-fire delivery of the bad news that her cancer has spread. Her doctor tells her it is Stage Three cancer. Her doctor swears that while this sounds bad, it actually is pretty much sunshine and lollipops compared to some cancers (which I hope I and my loved ones and all of you out there never ever get). This cancer is highly treatable and with proper treatment people can live long lives. The doctor lays out the treatment options: chemo cocktail in California (cocktail makes it sound downright enjoyable, right? Like it should have a little umbrella in it or something) or a new experimental drug regimen that is in trials in Boston. The trial in Boston is showing a slightly better prognosis, but you have to go to Boston for the six-month duration and there are some complications. The doctor tells Kitty that she needs to choose and she needs to do it soon. I wonder how long it will take for me to end up in tears this episode? There is a strict rule in my house that I am not allowed to watch medical dramas because I cry and not silently either. It's one of my more embarrassing qualities. I can't even watch Grey's Anatomy. How did this happen to me? Maybe it's some residual trauma from the ten years I spent watching ER only to have it brutally cancelled with only a hint of George Clooney to soften the blow. It takes years to get over a hurt like that.