Frank unwraps everything and carefully sets up the Thanksgiving buffet. Abby needs a chaperone for a pelvic exam, but there aren't any available nurses. Neela pipes up and offers to help Abby, who pauses and then glibly refuses the aid. Neela's left standing there wondering if someone put crushed halitosis pills in her toothpaste.

There's still gridlock in the ICU, so Mr. "Judy" Garland won't be getting home to Kansas any time soon. He's fine with it. Nobody likes Kansas.

Frank has a turducken as part of the spread. Neela's confused and maybe a little horrified at this -- a chicken stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey. She bolts rather than accept a taste, but I've heard they're awesome. There's stuffing in between each layer, usually Cajun, from what I've seen. They sound so tasty. It looks a bit freaky, though -- the legs look kind of tied together, as if they can't be allowed to spring open lest the "ducken" portion shoot out like a cannonball. A delicious, juicy cannonball. This part of the episode is shamelessly dragging. They know we know there's a crash coming up and they're making us wade a long, boring slog through badly paced non-drama before we get the fireworks.

Amy Pietz moans. "Sorry," Abby says. She's gone ahead and done the pelvic on her own. Ruefully, Abby tells Amy that the bleeding is more than she expected, and that Amy's cervix is open. "Meaning?" Amy asks. "You can't maintain a pregnancy," Abby says. Amy starts moaning that she knew it, she just knew it, and they've been trying to hard to get pregnant, and...as Amy passes out, we realize we've come to a crossroads. Either Amy's uterus is totally hosed, or there'll be an ER Thanksgiving miracle and Abby will find a secret fetus tucked away up there. Abby notices that Amy's stopped talking, and pokes her head out from between Amy's legs. Hurriedly, Abby rips off her gloves, which, despite having come from the hemorrhaging birth canal of a miscarrying woman, are spotless and new. Apparently Amy's fallopian tubes also produce Soft Soap. Abby punches the call button and orders Frank to find her some help because Amy's bleeding out and it might be handy to find someone who could stem the tide before her antiseptic bodily fluids disinfect the entire room and leave it smelling like winter pine. Abby works away, lonely, and then looks up and plaintively shouts at the window, "I could use a little help here!"