Chen stomps up to her defiled cake. "Who ate all my cake?" she pouts. Oh, I don't know, every guy you've ever dated longer than two hours?
A girl screams as she's wheeled into the hospital. She's eight and was in a car accident while sitting in the front seat, wearing her seatbelt. The airbag had deployed. "She may have a ruptured globe," the paramedic warns. "'Globe'! That means 'toe'!" I scream.
Elizabeth calmly explains to Debra that her tumor outgrew its blood supply, ruptured, and bled, causing her to faint. It's a ticking time bomb, and Elizabeth wants to remove it and the affected kidney. "Do you think it's cancer?" blanches Debra. "My mother died of cancer, and if that's what this is, I should know." Debra's husband's all, Simma down now, except he conveys this by swinging open his mouth, tilting forward, and saying nothing. "I should KNOW," Debra trembles, sniffling. Elizabeth clears her throat and confirms that it is probably cancerous, and if it's as aggressive as it seems, she's going to need heavy chemotherapy and radiation after surgery. Romano is aggressive. Maybe we can get him in on this action, too. Carter softly adds that these treatments, sadly, are inadvisable while pregnant. "Take it out," Debra blurts, lips trembling. "Take everything." Elizabeth can't believe what she's hearing. "Are you saying you wish to terminate [the pregnancy]?" she asks, stunned. Debra's husband leans in for one of his trademark open-mouthed silences. "Do it all at once," Debra chokes. Elizabeth tries to point out that she could get treated after the birth. "I want the chemo," Debra shrieks. "I want it now!" Carter, recognizing Veruca Salt when he sees her, trots out in search of a golden goose egg.
Outside the trauma room, Carter posits that Debra must feel like it's worth it to save her own life and then try again for a baby once she's better. Elizabeth argues that she could wait three weeks and possibly have a fetus that's viable outside the womb. "She's young. She's scared," Carter sums up. Elizabeth knows this, but that doesn't make her any less tempted to slap the baby out of Debra right then and there and incubate it somewhere else.
And then, it happens: Toe tomfoolery. I saw something approaching, and poking and prodding, and I shriek and bury myself under a pile of throw pillows. "Somebody hates you," my roommate Lauren grins. "God hates me," I spit. "Look, I only cheated on Lent twice, but not really, because everyone knows that hamburger buns don't count as bread!" Lauren suggests that someone from the show is trying to torture me. "They were doing a bloody good job of that already, without the toe nonsense," I wail. "Yeah, but before, you weren't actually crying and grabbing your stomach," Lauren points out politely. Basically, this young girl is blind, and it looks like it might be permanent, thanks to doddering ol' Grandma, who wanted her only grandchild to ride like a queen in the shotgun seat.