ER
Insurrection

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Insurrection

Susan checks in on Ya-Ya and her son. She informs her that it'll be a few hours before Phillip can get up to the OR, and he's pumped full of as much pain medicine as his blood pressure can handle. Basically, she's done all she can for now. "Do you know what it's like to watch someone die for twenty-five years?" Ya-Ya scenery-chews. "That's what I did with his father every day. I loved the man, but I hated what it did to him." She continues to wax rhapsodic about Phillip's voice -- he was an opera singer, but the disease hamstrung the flights of angels that would pour out of his throat when he trilled. "When he got to be twenty-nine, I thought, My God, maybe we got lucky," Ya-Ya says, her voice thick with anguish. "Then he started having trouble at work...and when he'd talk, sometimes it was hard to understand." Susan stares at Phillip's motionless, tubed body. "It just takes everything away," Ya-Ya weeps. "Everything."

Abby perches boredly on an idle ambulance while Carter sits inside, jotting down notes on his Power To the People notepad. She cracks that she needs to borrow paper to start working on her résumé; Carter laughs and says she'll be just fine. "I know," Abby nods. "Usually they decapitate the leaders of the insurrection and send the peasants back to work tending the fields." Carter laughs at this, too. Suddenly, Susan stalks up to the ambulance. "What took you so long?" Carter sasses. She completely ignores him and tells Abby she needs a repeat blood gas on Phillip. "We're staging a walk-out," Carter says importantly. "Yeah, I get that," spits Susan, turning back to Abby and asking her for more help. "I have ten patients on monitored beds that no one is watching," she says urgently. "Maybe someone will pay attention," Carter says immaturely. What a dick.

Opera music swells; it's a maudlin Insurrection Aria to back up Ya-Ya's defiance of the law and Carter's defiance of red tape. Ya-Ya stares at her son, whose machinery's every beep pierces her heart.

Bay of Rigs. "So you quit, go outside, and pout?" Susan gapes. Carter insists there's too many patients, too few beds, an overwhelmed staff, and an insecure ER. "Newsflash: The health-care system sucks!" Susan says, exasperated. "Our job is to treat people in spite of it." Carter refuses. He can't do it. "And I don't expect you or anyone else here not to" -- except Gallant, apparently -- "but I can't do it," Carter nods firmly.

Divine Intervention of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. She stares at Phillip's tubes, and then slowly turns to stare at his machinery. Something dawns on her, and I think it's mischief time.

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