There's a quick bit here where Abby removes an IV for someone, just to show that she's competent. There's some banter with Virgie, but I've grown tired of her and have decided not to feature her in the rest of the recap. Such is the power on which I'm drunk.
Jacob's sats take a dive, so Mrs. Kyle freaks. Abby examines him, realizes that he's septic, and quickly explains to Kyle and Mrs. Kyle that "sepsis" is a blood infection that can come on quickly. He'll need antibiotics and an intubation. "We were talking about going home," mutters Mrs. Kyle. Abby insists that Jake is tough and that he'll get through it. Man, she knows Fate is trying to lose weight -- why does she insist on waving cake under its nose?
Next, we're treated to the intercutting of Abby and Jake with Neela getting her photo taken with the joyous Tsengs, as they prepare to take Dirk home. As Raab supervises, Abby swiftly and cleanly intubates. Mr. Tseng smiles to Neela that they're going to keep calling the baby "Dirk," because the name brought him luck. He thanks her, and then sharply calls for Mei Fan to follow him out. She lingers, so he grabs Dirk in an effort to hasten things. Mei Fan shoots a lingering glance at Inga and observes that it will be strange to leave. "It'll be great. You'll love having him home," Neela smiles. "I know you're right. Bye Neela," Mei Fan says pointedly. "See you tomorrow," Neela says, totally missing the fact that Inga's bleeding brain just got smashed by an abandonment anvil. Mei Fan looks back sadly one last time, and then leaves with her husband and Dirk.
Raab shrugs that they can't do much for Jake but wait to see if the medicine works. "I don't know if I can take another round of this," weeps Mrs. Kyle. Jake is like, "Lady? Stuff it. That's my song." Abby pats Mrs. Kyle on the shoulder as Kyle twitches to fight tears. My Bitch Pants wander out from the laundry pile and start snuggling up to my knees, as if to tempt me into employing their services in this relatively kind paragraph.
Neela and Abby are outside getting coffee, the former complaining that she needed a break from the claustrophobic NICU. "Did you eat anything?" Abby asks. Neela absently throws out her coffee and babbles that Raab is right -- she likes science and answers, and can't handle the uncertainty of the NICU. Like that's any less certain than regular medicine. Why she only having this problem now? "It gets easier," Abby promises. Neela frets that she'd planned to be in neonatology since she started, and that she's perplexed to find she doesn't love it. Then she shares that when she was three, her six-day-old brother died in the NICU, and she has no memories of him at all. "The NICU is so sad all the time. How can you stand it?" Neela wonders. Abby thinks for a second. "I don't know," she says. "When I was an OB nurse, the preemies freaked me out. I thought they looked like frogs. I was sure I was going to hate the NICU." But she doesn't, which she says is because it's as much about dealing with the parents as with the kids. "And as it turns out, tragic family dynamics are my specialty," Abby says wryly. Her pager interrupts the moment; there's a delivery.