Luka appears, and my God, the man is wearing a suit and it's setting off my apartment's smoke alarm. He can sit in my boardroom any time he likes. "Look at you, Mr. GQ," Abby grins. "Got another deportation hearing?" Frank snots. "Have another perogi, Frank," Abby mutters. Abby, by the way, is sporting some nice new bangs, although the forums are right in pointing out that she does look a bit like Trista. If she shows up in anything pink, the Sutters' lawsuit will be forthcoming.
Carter needs a hand with the overweight guy who fell down the stairs, so Luka goes off to help them lift him. Just as Weaver's looking for Susan, the good Dr. Lewis appears, looking green and fanning herself with a manila folder. Weaver starts spouting off about the nationwide search they're conducting to find a new ER Chief, and that they'd love for Susan to step in temporarily. This smacks of one of those times when they pretend to look for someone great and expensive until the cheaper lackey's gotten so used to the job that he or she just keeps it. Susan, however, refuses both the job and the three-grand-a-month raise, all with her lips clamped as tightly together as she can muster. When Weaver stares at her quizzically, Susan smiles resignedly and says, "I'm pregnant." Then she fires up the vomit comet and spews a trail of astral joy all over the hospital floor. We smash to the credits admiring this metastatement and wondering why TPTB wrote Chuck like a schmuck if they were going to turn around and have him scramble her eggs. Can't Sherry just block her stomach until they finish shooting -- like with a really large chart, or Carter's ego? Or Frank?
The large guy who toppled down the stairs gets heaved onto a bed. He's wearing a neck brace and complaining of pain. Carter has the good grace to inform Stair Master that he's overweight, which is a nice thing to hear when you're scared and in the ER. It would be like if they tore open Boobgate 2004's shirt later on and were like, "Your heart's not working -- and, MAN, could you use a nip and tuck, because those things are sagging like Bob Newhart's cheek skin." Sam wants an x-ray of Stair Master's chest. "No, you don't," says Luka glibly. Sam's gaze snaps onto his with the intensity of a woman who just heard another woman's name come out of her ejaculating husband. Which is to say, Luka's nuts should in no way be considered inseparable from his body. Carter agrees that, based on certain criteria, they don't need the test because Stair Master is at low risk of a neck fracture. Carter then asks why Luka's hanging around in a suit. "I'm giving a lecture to med students on clinical decision-making without the use of tests," Luka says. In other words: "Leeches, Witch Doctoring, And You." Kem sweetly points out that "their" health care system requires them to diagnose with a minimum of tests and equipment. If she is referring to the Congolese health care system, then she should wipe the smug smile off her face, because it's not altruism that's governing their policy, it's the budget. If they could afford to run tests and own machinery that made helpful noises, you can bet your lead apron they'd be using that stuff for everything from CAT scans to fortune-telling ("Will we have meatless chicken for dinner tonight?" "Bleeeeeep!" "Oh, DAMMIT!"). Carter suggests that Kem sit in on Luka's lecture, which immediately makes Luka nervous, because he's a first-time teacher, and Kem isn't wearing a bra. "You're a natural," Carter shrugs, ignoring his friend's discomfort. Nice. Sam rattles off a test she's sending for Stair Master, and Luka freaks. "Dammit! All he needs is a CBC and...." and here he loses me, because my closed-captioning isn't working. The point is, Sam's ordering a test Luka thinks isn't required, but she says that nursing protocol demands that she administer it. "Save your lectures for the med students, 'cause the nurses don't want to hear it," she snaps. As she stalks out, everyone in the room basically swaps expressions confirming that Luka will need some strong-ass ointment for those burns.