Marge, ever large, is in Trauma Yellow. Luka figures she is fine in addition to being robustly large, so Susan continues into Trauma Green, where Pratt is treating Colin. Pratt's making the paramedic do what a nurse usually would, since they're enduring The Great Nursing Shortfall of Aught-Two because the show blew its budget on rubber babies and miles of Bounty paper towels. Susan rattles off a list of tests to order up. "The nurses usually call," Pratt shrugs. "I don't know the number." He acts like this is no big deal, and that the tests will find a way to magically order themselves, just like my foot will find a way to magically insert itself in his...OW! Stupid TV screen. Susan snaps that Pratt might find success by checking the phone list. She then finds a pelvic fracture and yells out more instructions while Pratt balances the phone with his other work. Pratt Ralph-Wiggums, "The chem panel goes in the red top, or the green top? And which one's 'oral'?" Susan begs an incoming Abby for help. Pratt is indignant, because Abby is not just a nurse, but a female, and therefore belongs in a kitchen with her shoes off and a bun in both ovens. Susan placates Pratt by sending him to see if Luka needs help.

Carter bursts in to find some Dopamine, and exposits that it's total madness out there because everyone has multiple things wrong with them, and old people have a very persistent odor. Some guy bursts in looking for the bathroom, because it's MADNESS, pure madness, and Carter extracts him from the trauma room.

The hall is swarming with senior citizens. Carter yells for them all to move into the admin area for injury assessment, throws a few elbows, and traverses the sea of wrinkles while yelling for Gallant to deal with this. "Everyone proceed to the north," Gallant yells, like a true military boy. "Where the hell is north?" crabs an old man. And a giant dish of pureed Word from me. I don't understand people who can walk outside and point out "south-south-east" in two seconds.