Elizabeth strolls with her father through London. We know it’s London because TPTB chose Tower Bridge (at least, I’m fairly certain it’s Tower – that’s the only one I know of that’s got pale blue and red and gold on it) as a backdrop so that the scene screams, “We Are In London.” They might as well have dressed one of the extras up as the Queen and had her strolling the street in ermine robes and a big-ass crown. Elizabeth laments that she spent all that time in Chicago missing London, and now that she’s back home, she’s homesick for Chicago. And it shows – her hair has wilted into the worst schoolmarm style. Too bad she didn’t have access to the County General Crisis Makeover Team: Sure, Your Husband Died, But Your Hair Shouldn’t. Pa Corday gently reveals he’s heard about her run-ins with various doctors. “Ooooh, someone graffed [sic] on me,” Elizabeth grins. “Small hospital,” he shrugs. “Small-minded, more like,” she says under her breath. Her father primly reminds her that she’s not in America – “No shit, Sherlock,” shouts Tower Bridge, bored – and that being a doctor in England requires an adjusted approach. Elizabeth sasses that her approach is to do what’s best for her patient with a minimum of ass-licking. By now, they’ve reached a small café, where Elizabeth’s mother waits. Her father stops in his tracks. “That’s my cue,” he says. Elizabeth chides him for not even saying hello, so he turns and gives a completely insincere flippy little wave, then kisses Elizabeth goodbye. “You’re late,” Lizzie’s mother says. “Sorry, I had a bowel resection,” Elizabeth says casually. “Yeah, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that…” Tower Bridge grunts. “Before lunch? Lovely,” sighs her mother. “I washed my hands,” she insists.

Day 12. Abby is lounging on a gurney painting her toenails with some polish acquired from County General’s crack team of manicurists for all your emergency nail needs. “Can you die of boredom?” Abby asks lethargically. Word, sister. She read my mind. It’s a giant script bonfire, the ashes of which are gathered up and buried under a tombstone that reads simply, “Here lies: Word.” Chen figures a person can’t perish from boredom, but Abby disagrees. “What if your mind wandered off on a daydream and you forgot to eat or drink for days?” she asks. Chen replies, “Then you’d die of starvation and dehydration.” Abby blinks. “Caused by boredom,” she presses. Suddenly, their antennae twitch – they’ve smelled something, and no, it isn’t the flaming waste of the monkeypox storyline.