Episode Report Card
Heathen: B | Grade It Now!

Neela and Abby cruise into the delivery room to see a woman screaming bloody labor. I think "The More You Know" sponsored this entire episode to encourage girls to use birth control. God, it makes me want to go chug an entire pill pack. "We're almost there," the proud father says. Somewhere, a script writer opens up The Big Book Of Labor and Delivery Jokes and gleefully copies out the oldest one: The mother screaming, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'WE'?" When you're ripping off The Cosby Show -- which itself probably stole from every other labor scene in existence -- then you know you've got originality issues. Anyway, the mother has diabetes and they're delivering with forceps. Abby and Neela stand there helplessly until the screaming, miserable mother squeezes out the limp, bluish kid. Abby carries Repellant Toy Baby over to Neela, where they begin trying to exorcise the spirit of Rex from its struggling ventricles. As the father does annoying paternal things, like trying to videotape two NICU med students slapping the life into his goo-covered offspring, Abby elbows him out of the way until the spell is cast, Rex is banished, and the child starts screaming. Delighted, the father scoops up his kid -- who's called Daphne -- and presents him to the happy and tired mother. "You look just like your Daddy -- except three shades lighter!" he crows. "Babies are supposed to be light when they're born! I told you!" the mom grins, secretly pleased that the baby came out pale, like the mailman, and not Japanese, like that guy from Accounting she met at the company Christmas party when he offered to show her how to use a slide rule. Neela's pager goes off. Something's wrong with Inga.

When Neela gets upstairs, she finds Matt standing over Inga's body. "Major brain bleed," he says. "Are you sure?" gasps Neela. He nods and says they have to take her off the machine, or she'll just get worse. Neela is left staring blankly at Inga, while a concerned Abby waits behind her. "I talked them into it," Neela gasps. Abby points out that, as smart as Neela might be, nothing could convince Dr. Raab to authorize ECMO unless it really was the only thing. I sort of wish Dr. Raab had given us some supporting data as to why they did ECMO, but at the same time, it's a moot point, because Inga's pretty much a carrot now to be used in Rex's tasty Salade NICU-oise.

Inga starts to seize, and Neela tells Virgie to give her a shot of Ativan. Virgie refuses, because Neela's a med student, and Virgie's a stiff. Angrily, Neela points out that both Matt and Raab are away, and that Inga needs the medicine, and they all know it, so Virgie should shut her fat yap and adjust the pole up her ass, thereby making more room for her to shove her useless objections up there. Abby -- gripped by assertiveness and sass -- charges over there and administers the shot herself. "I'm telling Raab," Virgie simpers. "You do that," Abby snaps. "She'll kick you off the rotation," Virgie warns. Abby points out that Raab can kick Abby off, but that Neela didn't do anything wrong. Virgie stalks away as Neela crosses her arms and slumps against the wall, bitterly wondering what she can tell the parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Tseng, I'm sorry, I screwed up. Inga's brain is toast," she cracks. Abby tells her to knock it off, and to go home and let Dr. Raab talk to the Tsengs. "They should hear it from me," Neela says stubbornly. "You're a med student. I think the Attending can handle it. Just GO," Abby barks. Wounded, Neela turns around and wanders aimlessly through the NICU, picking up speed and urgency as she grabs her purse and coat and charges to the doors. Frantically, she punches in her code; it doesn't work. "Excuse me, can someone get the door please?" she says, knocking on the glass as tears trickle from her eyes. "Hello? Anyone?" she gulps, crying in earnest. "Get me the hell out of here!" We fade to black wondering how Neela got this far in medical school if she's so easily bothered by the idea that, sometimes, shit gets fucked up and stays that way.

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