ER
If I Should Fall From Grace

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If I Should Fall From Grace

Elizabeth hunts down Kit and offers a semi-heartfelt apology for her unprofessional behavior earlier. "I know it's not an excuse," she notes. "But I have been under a lot of stress lately." Kit understands. Elizabeth gets to her point, because of course she's not admitting error without an ulterior motive. Whipping out Mr. Durning's file, she jogs Kit's memory as to his case -- hemicolectomy, colon cancer -- and shows that the chart indicates Kit removed the central line on October 16. "No, we didn't do it," Kit recalls. "Babcock did." Narrowing her eyes, Elizabeth growls, "Babcock!" Babcock. Kit shares that sometimes, Babcock likes to pull his own line. Don't all men? "In fact, occasionally he insists on it," Kit says. Again, don't all men? Maybe next week, I'll challenge myself to write the entire recap without sexual humor. Think I can do it? Yeah, me neither.

An elderly gent who wishes he were William H. Macy explains to Gallant that he gave his aging wife some penicillin from his medicine cabinet to combat her sore throat. "You should never share prescriptions," Gallant advises. A girl sitting just beyond the curtain peeks at the scene, clearly eavesdropping. Gallant gently examines Mrs. Macy's throat, learns she's suffered from basic flu-like symptoms, and diagnoses "hypersensitivity vasculities" brought on by the use of the old antibiotics. "Thank you, Dr. Kevorkian," Mrs. Macy mutters lovingly at her husband. Aw. They're kinda cute. Gallant smiles brightly and promises to return with proper medicine to treat her condition. Drawing the curtain, he struts away.

"You might want a CBC," the girl calls out to Gallant. He turns and gets an eyeful of her: thin, pale bordering on wan, dark hair, large brown eyes. She's in a schoolgirl kilt and knee-high boots and looks a tad smug. She elaborates that Mrs. Macy's history indicates that she might suffer from undiagnosed thrombocytopenia -- low platelets. Gallant arches an eyebrow. "You are...?" he asks, quizzically. "Grace, second-year med student," she replies. "Ask if she has any unusual bleeding when she brushes her teeth." Bristling, Gallant haughtily asks whether she's assigned to County General, learns she isn't, and reprimands her for not minding her own business. Carter overhears this much and stops, intrigued. "Is he your med student?" Grace asks, exasperated. Gallant protests that she's a second-year who reckons she can skip around and diagnose people; she counters again that Gallant takes lousy patient histories and might have overlooked thrombocytopenia. With one glance at the chart, Carter confirms that Grace is correct and rattles off a list of tests for Gallant to order. He has the good manners to accept his mistake and politely comply with the orders. Snottily, Grace waves at his retreating back. "You're welcome," she calls out. Ugh. How fucking superior of her.

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