Susan is at Little Doctor Friend's office, and they're looking at x-rays of her wandering spleen. (Remember how last week I thought Little Doctor Friend made up the "Wandering Spleen" ailment just to make Susan worry, in revenge for his night spent fretting over her made-up symptoms? Well, clearly I was wrong. And I'm sorry.) It appears that Susan's spleen has wandered over to hang out with her liver, and the whole hospital thinks she needs to have it "removed immediately." Susan: "Oh, okay. I guess you guys probably have all sorts of new, exciting techniques where you don't even cut open the body?" Little Doctor Friend: "No, not really!" Susan, looking worried, tries gamely to talk herself into the idea of surgery: "I guess I can handle that...people get cut open every day!" Little Doctor Friend asks her if she's cool with him doing the operating, seeing as he's familiar with her case, et cetera. (So much for the whole "ethical" debate.) Susan sighs and leans back on the exam table, and Little Doctor Friend asks her what's wrong? Susan: "The first time you'll see me naked, I'll be on an operating table." Little Doctor Friend: "Well, I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman, my eyes will be strictly on the spleen." A nurse comes in, and Little Doctor Friend tells her to schedule Susan for a "splenectomy," which, much like a "wandering spleen," sounds mega made-up to me, and yet isn't (I checked). When the nurse realizes that Little Doctor Friend will be conducting the surgery, her face lights up like a Marlboro Man. "Awwwww, congratulations!" says the nurse. Little Doctor Friend leaves to take care of another patient, and the second he clears the room, Susan grills the nurse about why the insane glee over the splenectomy? Nurse Totally Unethical: "Oh, the spleen surgery. It'll be his first!" This nurse, it seems, is suffering from a serious blabber problem. Also, what is Little Doctor Friend, an intern? A surgeon? Who also makes house calls? To which I say: Is there a doctor in the house? Because I think I've fractured my "whatever" bone.
Gabby is at home, wearing one of her sweat suits and eating grapes. Carlos walks in and launches into a speech about how he's willing to wait as long as it takes for Gabby to get over the miscarriage and crave babies again. But. He needs to know that this "isn't a maybe." He "wants a promise" that they will, for sure, one day have children. But Gabby isn't promising anything: "I can't say that I'm going to wake up tomorrow and suddenly want to do something that I swore my entire life I would never do. 'Maybe' is a very big step for me!" But it "isn't big enough" for Carlos. Gabby hangs tuff and reminds him that he can't really do anything about her and her "maybe." Carlos: "That isn't necessarily true." He tosses down the "American Catholic's Guide to Annulment" gauntlet. Gabby, who immediately comprehends what's going on: "That conniving little bitch put you up to this, didn't she!" Carlos tells Gabby she can stop the fight right here by simply making the promise. Gabby: "The only promise I'm making you is that this is so not over." Gabby throws the pamphlet at Carlos and stomps away.