Abby loads a patient onto a trauma-room bed. He fell out of bed at his nursing home, which confounds Abby because he can barely move. They try talking to him, but he can't respond. His name is Mr. Berk. They all snort in derision when they learn he was at the dreaded Garden Sunrise nursing home: "I wouldn't send my mom to that dump, and I hate my mom," the paramedic snorts. Abby diagnoses Berk with end-stage Huntington's disease, and Susan adds that he's fractured his hip. Susan casually adds that Luka's been shouting for Abby for thirty minutes. He wants a lighted speculum. Abby is apparently the only person who can bring him the lighted speculum of his dreams. Abby rolls her eyes and gripes that she's only an hour and forty-five minutes behind on her patient load. "Great, piss him off some more," Susan grumbles. I'm sorry, what? How come we haven't seen any of this? Oh, right -- because that would entail work and planning.
Gallant interrupts to give us all the bullet on Huntington's: It manifests as emotional depression, degenerates into a loss of motor control and cognitive function, and kills its victims between two and twenty years of its appearance. Mr. Berk has been diagnosed for fifteen years; he's clearly headed for the emergency exit. They roll him to get a look at his injury. "What's he pissed about?" Abby asks curiously. "Well, hurt," Susan clarifies. Abby can't figure out why Luka would be upset or hurt, possibly given that he finds her neither pretty nor special enough to warrant another roll in the hay. Susan tsks at Abby for being dense, though, the implication being that Luka's jealous of Abby's relationship with Carter, and all the freezing cold nights of icy love that it entails. "Oh, no, he doesn't care," Abby scoffs. They notice a truly hideous bed sore on Mr. Berk -- a gaping, open red wound right on his lower back. It's foul. But at least it's not vomit. "Have you talked to him about it?" Susan nosy-parkers. "Why? I don't have to. He's fine," Abby insists. Susan waves Abby off this case, figuring they have it under control and that she should at least bring Luka his beacon of hope, the lighted speculum, so that he might spend the rest of the day in a happy haze of a well-lit vagina.
Upon her exit, Chen hails Abby and asks for a finger splint. Abby waves her off, which seems to rankle Chen, but nothing happens. It all goes away. Carter tails her and begs her to set up a detox bed for the prostitute he's treating. "They're as jammed as we are," Abby shakes her head. Carter pulls out the big gun -- he plays "Pre-Teen Hookin' Coke Fiend (Kids, Just Say No!)" on her heartstrings, and the tune moves Abby to promise she'll try to get Anonymous a bed. Pleased, Carter makes a mental note to send roses to his music teacher.