Inside, Luka directs traffic. A beleaguered Weaver yells at Mark (who's "manning" the radio), "I said we could handle one major!" Mark snaps, "They've got thirty critical patients on scene, Kerry; I said we could take three major and ten minor." Weaver demands, "How can we handle critical patients if we don't have any surgeons?" Don't have...what? They don't have any surgeons? Since when? And why? What is there, like, some kind of conference taking all the surgeons out of the hospital, all at once? Well, they might have mentioned that. What am I, supposed to read up on this at Dr. Dave's Desktop? (Hee -- and what else would one find there? His email? "Randi, you lookd hot in that haltar top last wek. Why don't you comit some agravated mayhem on me sometime? Also, can you chek the scedule and tel me agan when I' m supposed to be working this week? I wrote it on a napkin and put it in my pcket byt then I slipped on some water and soked my pants." And in his browser, bookmarks like DrKoop.com and those famous New Orleans Beadsluts?) Mark says they can stabilize the critical cases and triage them to surgery one at a time. "I hope that we can, Mark," replies Weaver testily, before calling Frank over and asking him to page the surgeons. He tells her they're all at the conference. Hey! I guessed right! Go, me. Carter appears and offers to help; Mark shuts him down. Carter hopefully observes, "Looks like you're getting slammed," and Weaver tells him that's all the more reason for Carter to take the minor medical: "No trauma." Carter pouts. I mean, he actually sticks out his lower lip and pouts. Well, really, it's your first day back in the hospital, Larry Fortensky. What did you expect? Paramedics wheel in someone who might be Danny; he's accompanied by Morales, who tells Mark that maybe-Danny is thirty-two, was felled by a walkway, and had his foot crushed under a girder.
In Trauma One, Elizabeth tells Weaver that CP suffered an open fracture, and that there's "active bleeding through the perineum." Ew. Ewwwww. (Ew.) Machines are beeping. Weaver says she'll put in a central line. Elizabeth asks how the other patient (I really have to assume she's referring to Danny, formerly "maybe-Danny") is doing, and Weaver says it looks like they're putting in a chest tube: "Elizabeth, you should go check on him." Elizabeth says she can't leave CP and yells, "Where's Peter?" "Didn't Romano fire him?" asks Chuny flatly, because nurses know all. "What?" yelps Elizabeth, and Weaver scoffs, "No! I saw him earlier. Try paging him." She exhorts Elizabeth, "Go on! I can handle this!" Elizabeth lists all the things CP requires (part of her orders include the phrase "suprapubic," which makes me giggle and picture a crime fighter with a costume made of coarse, black, curly hairs -- because I'm four), and concludes, "You can't possibly do all of that at once, and I'm certainly not leaving him until he's stable." Weaver counters, "The other patient has a blunt chest trauma! He might be bleeding out!" Elizabeth says that if he is, Luka will come get her. Weaver yells to someone, "Tell Mark Greene he looks like the love child of a walking phallus and a baby chick, and that we are closed to trauma!" Except, not the first part.