ER
Out Of Africa

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Out Of Africa

In a private area, the social worker -- what happened to Adele? -- reads off two prior incidents: Paula left Henry alone and he burned himself; and she didn't pick him up from school. "My husband, Kyle, was supposed to do it," she insists, claiming that the other incident resulted from Henry's trying to make grilled cheese while she was at a job interview. The social worker tells her that this, combined with Susan's suspicion of alcohol abuse, means he's removing her kids and placing them with her husband until they can investigate the matter more deeply. Paula is gutted, and Susan looks guilty. "I'm not a bad mother," Paula begins to weep. "It's just for a little while, until you get back on your feet," Susan consoles her. Paula stammers out a story about how her lawyer had bought her a Bloody Mary at breakfast to celebrate the divorce papers, and Susan looks skeptical and pitying.

Apparently bereft of other duties despite the overcrowding in triage, Neela sits with Henry and kindly makes small talk with him about the drumstick he's holding. (The kind you use to play drums, not the delightful kind you fry up in greasy batter.) Paula enters and hugs him lovingly, but the moment's interrupted by Kyle, arriving in a cloud of irritation. Henry leaps at him delightedly. "Adam fell out of the cart and hit his head on the floor," Henry blurts. Paula hovers adoringly over Adam's crib while Neela fills Kyle in; he then accusingly hisses at Paula that she shouldn't mess up her kids' lives just because she's bent on fucking up her own. Paula whiffs her own excuse, saying now that she was upset coming from her lawyer and was crying. "So it's Adam's fault, it's my fault. How come it's never your fault, Paula?" Kyle asks. Henry just stands there, all, Thank God you don't get lippy, sweet drumstick. Paula inhales sharply, and then dazedly leaves the trauma room.

"Suction, Annie?" Dr. Diego smarms. Well, God, from him that could mean anything. But in this case, he's in surgery, and he's butchering both a patient and Abby's name. Dr. Elizabeth "Cut The" Corday is working with her post-Mark fling in the OR. "You know, Elizabeth, if I had another inch I'd be a happy man," he says. "And I'd be a bow-legged woman," Elizabeth should say. "Slide the distal stick in another centimeter," Diego intones. Elizabeth practically starts fanning herself. Diego announces that he wants them to try to repair six centimeters of Whatever The Hell in thirty minutes. "I'm not sure you have the stamina," Elizabeth flirts. Diego devours her with his eyes, lest anyone in the hospital be unsure exactly where his distal stick is currently being slid. Then nurse Jacy busts in and tells Dr. Diego that his wife is on the phone. Elizabeth is frozen in place, enraged and rather conveniently brandishing some scissors that I believe she'd like to use to make lots and lots of room in Diego's shorts for that extra inch. Abby looks up uncomfortably and silently wonders if she needs to scrub in anew for a castration.

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