Meanwhile, the jet-skier is dying. This shouldn't always be such an afterthought, but there it is. Dubenko natters on about the damage done by free radicals, and he's not talking about any proletariat uprising, so I'm not entirely sure what any of it means. "Can we take a break from chemistry to code him?" Abby finally spits. "The difference between a physician and a witch doctor is an appreciation of the science behind the disease," Dubenko says. "This should be automatic." Whereas Abby, just to spite him, is thisclose to cooking up some skin of newt and tongue of frog.
When a man's face is held together by strings of living tissue and he's about to die, the best thing to do is bring in the wife. And so she enters, weeping and freaking. Dubenko makes Ray take over the compressions he was doing so that he and Carter can translate "Your husband is screwed" into something more sympathetic and gentle. Abby fires up the paddles. "I was running this," snots Ray. "I hadn't noticed," Abby rolls her eyes. "Clear!" She shocks the guy. Ray is pissed. He tries to take over and notices Abby's mulish look. "WHAT?" he booms. She purses her lips. "Fine," she quacks. "All yours." She thrusts the paddles at him with a furious glare.
Darlene is nagging Neela again about her dramatic history. Maybe Darlene should be more concerned with patient histories. Or maybe Neela shouldn't act so patient, and instead ought to tell Darlene to shove it up her annals of history. Instead, when Darlene asks Neela why she came back if nothing has changed, Neela offers up a pathetic and grouchy "I don't know." Chuny passes, hands Pratt some paperwork, and tells him crabbily that his interns need to know the difference between milligrams and micrograms. "I can't supervise them all the time," he shrugs. Neela bristles. "Excuse me," she says hotly to Pratt. "If I make a mistake on an order, I'd appreciate it if you'd confront me directly. I'd like to be treated the same as everybody else and subjected to the same scrutiny." It's a lovely speech: blunt, rhythmic. And completely unnecessary, because Pratt wasn't referring to her. "Oh," Neela says, almost disappointed that poor job performance isn't about to screw her back onto the Dole. And I don't mean the one who's on Viagra. [Rimshot!]