As Weaver continues staring off into space, Mark stomps up to her, gets in her face, and yells, "You turned me in? There's a guy from the medical board here questioning my competency?" She starts crutching off, and Mark snaps, "Don't walk away from me!" Weaver snaps, "I'm not walking away -- I don't want to have this conversation in the middle of the lobby." Mark whines, "He wants to see my medical records! He's planning on interviewing the staff to see if I'm still fit to practise medicine!" Weaver mutters, "Oh, don't be so melodramatic." Weaver? Fucking word. Mark hisses, "He can pull my medical license." They arrive at the desk, and Weaver stops, murmuring, "Look, I've been concerned about the changes in your personality since the surgery. I've tried to talk to you about it but you've chosen to ignore me." True, and true. Mark bellows, "So you call in the licensing board?!" "Keep your voice down!" she warns him, as Frank strolls by, giving them both the hairy eyeball. Mark, leaning in to try to intimidate her physically -- like all penis-y men are wont to do -- murmurs, "They cut a tumour out of my head, Kerry. I'm sorry if I seem a little different to you. I wouldn't come back to work if I couldn't do the job!" "What about the aphasia?" Weaver asks. Mark lies, "It's getting better!" If you ask me, it's definitely getting worse. The first week he was back, when all he was doing was mixing up his pronouns, I thought that was really no big deal. But when you're a doctor and you can't think of the word "hepatitis," that's worse. Which is pretty much what Weaver says: "And if you were in an emergency situation and you couldn't think of the name of the drug you wanted? Or do the nurses go out to play twenty questions while the patient dies?" "Nobody's dying!" Mark yells. Weaver, getting shrill: "You have been insensitive and argumentative!" "I have not been argumentative!" Mark ironics. Weaver replies, "You have been shooting from the hip, and I am not the only one who's expressed concern." Mark starts slowly walking away, and Weaver follows, explaining, "For the safety of the patients, I felt I had to call the board for an objective assessment. I want you to pass so that we can all get back to work confident in your abilities! Okay?" Mark looks skeptical.
Carter heads out to the ambulance bay with Finch, who's saying, "Rich people think that if all the poor kids are immunized, then they don't have to be." Um. What? That is not what happened in this situation at all, so save it; your straw man is blocking the rig. Carter, as a rich person, tries to change the subject to the weather, noting that he thought it had stopped snowing. Finch continues PSA-ing, "If everybody stops getting vaccines, then smallpox'll be back, polio...measles. Then they'll be lined up around the block begging us to stick a needle in their precious little Annie's arm." Finch? Shut up. Pam gives the bullet on a man with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He was throwing up and continued doing so despite Compazine; he's now very dehydrated. Carter helps the patient's wife out of the rig and examines the patient's face. Mrs. Non-Hodgkins says, "He only finished the chemotherapy last week. Is the cancer back?" Carter says he's probably just having a reaction to the chemo. As Carter, Finch, and Pam steer the bed toward the hospital doors, Pam asks, "Hey, how'd that little boy do?" Carter asks which boy she means, and she describes Zack. Carter demands, "You brought him in?" Pam says she did. Carter says, "Uh oh." Finch asks Pam, "They didn't call you?" Pam says no, and asks what the problem is. Finch tells Pam about Zack's measles, and then passive-aggresses, "You transported an immunorepressed patient in the same rig?" Mrs. Non-Hodgkins asks what that means. Pam insists that nobody told her.