If I Should Fall From Grace

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Heathen: B | Grade It Now!
If I Should Fall From Grace

Bored, Gallant sneaks up to Abby and confides that he overheard someone say that nurses handle all the triaging at County General, and so he figures it wouldn't kill Abby to sneak him a few minor cases. Hello? You're not a doctor yet, mister. Go stand in Elizabeth's climate and chill. Abby nicely orders him to sit down, read his orientation kit, and wait for Carter like a good little student.

Hurrying down the hall, Abby passes an obviously enthralled Malik being tended to by Neecole. He's grinning at her slavishly. French tarts are his favorite food. Abby's confused as to why Neecole is taking Malik's blood pressure. "I'm learning to be a nurse's aide!" Neecole chirps enthusiastically. Abby's head snaps up so fast that she gives the entire room whiplash. "Really?" she gapes. But before she can verbally slice and dice the idea, Luka bellows for Abby to help him with an incoming trauma patient, and The Flogging of Nurse Frenchie must wait. Abby snaps on her gloves while Luka helps wheel in the gurney. They head for Trauma One, but Luka spies the omnipresent Neecole and decides it'll be good for her to come along and watch the party.

"He must've taken a header off the skateboard," theorizes the paramedic. The kid has a bad head laceration and a hematoma, "right parietal-temporal." Calmly, Luka orders Abby to teach Neecole in the art of taking a pulse ox. Neecole just sort of wafts in the background, wringing her reedy hands and lamenting the fact that her lamentable streak of acting opposite Ethan Hawke didn't breed better opportunities than this. Masking her irritation, but only barely, Abby orders Neecole to don the appropriate gloves and get ready for trauma time. She then glares at Luka, who just nods her in Neecole's direction, apparently ignorant that this isn't the best place in which to play teacher-student. Speaking of which, Gallant bursts right into the trauma room and asks, "Can I watch?" What the...?!?!? Apparently, next time I've got a yen to gawk at gruesome wounds, I should show up at County in a lab coat, tell everyone I'm the new med student and throw around the words "triage" and "zygoma." Or, if I show up with an accent and big wet eyes, I might actually get a paying job. Dr. Cleo "MedBot 2001" Finch, hunched over the body of a bleeding, dying boy, takes the time to introduce herself to Gallant. Fortunately, a few people are paying attention to the patient, who has road rash down his chest, a bruised abdomen, a pulse of 115, and blood pressure of 90 over 60. "Jeremy, do you remember what happened?" Luka shouts at the kid, whose eyes flutter. Cleo go-go-gadget-flashlights so she can check Jeremy's eyes, noting that his right pupil is sluggish and slightly larger than the left; she orders up a horde of tests. Jeremy groans. He hates tests. Math, English, paternity, pregnancy -- he fails them all. Neecole squeaks that she can't get a pulse ox. "Abby?" Luka needles her. Sharply ripping off her gloves, Abby huffs around the table, but adopts a patient tone when explaining how to perform the diagnostic. Luka shouts for someone to please page Benton and a neurosurgeon. "Seventy-eight," Neecole yips. Luka's all, "What? I got a C+?" But Abby interjects that seventy-eight is part of the pulse-ox reading -- seventy-eight on fifteen liters. Luka compliments Neecole on a good job, and she glows, because she's never heard that before from a guy who didn't subsequently pull up his pants and tip her. Actually, I wish they would skankify her, so I could rationalize my feelings of intense dislike. As it is, I have to pretend. Finch sums up that Jeremy is hyper-resident on the right, has decreased breath sounds, low sats, and hypertension. "Tension pneumothorax, right?" Gallant asks. "Yeah," the docs acknowledge, grudgingly. It's a collapsed lung, more or less. Gallant beams proudly. He's so adorable. I want to lick his hair.

"I had a fainting spell, John. It happens," Gamma insists. Carter has her laid up in a hospital bed with various machines hooked up to her chest. "In my day, it was acceptable for a lady to swoon," she giggles. But not over your own grandson, babe, unless you come from such towns that consider inbreeding a form of gene-pool refinement. There's another patient in the room, which is laughable, because Gamma isn't complaining about it -- somehow, I have her pegged as a stickler for the royal treatment. The patient, Kid WeNeedAWayToGetSusanInTheRoom, barely registers until Susan bounces through the door. "Hey Carter, there's a new med student looking for you," she calls out. Carter is too busy for such trifles. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Carter," Susan says politely after recognizing the older woman. Gamma swallows hard and tries to be pleasant. "Evan, I talked to your Mom. She found your inhaler in the laundry," Susan shares, so that we feel like she had a reason to be in this scene beyond mere Carter-related eavesdropping. Gamma continues to sass Carter while he plays doctor with her, but she passes out again. "Gamma?" he shouts. "Susan!" But Gamma comes around shortly thereafter; a visibly shaken Carter, after establishing that she's okay and lucid, excuses himself.

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