Carter studies Gamma's EKG, pronouncing it stable. Gamma insists that Alger, her driver, tends to overreact and be condescending about it. "You gave him a scare," Carter defends. "I was a little woozy getting out of the car," Gamma insists. Carter calls it "near syncope." Gamma says, "I call it skipping lunch." Carter disconnects her from the EKG monitor, but Gamma wants to pull off the suction cups herself. "Are you sleeping okay?" Carter asks, softly. She sighs, but doesn't reply. "Are you...depressed?" Without looking at Carter, Gamma says she just misses her husband, but balks at his suggestion of therapy. Predictably, Gamma isn't taking this seriously, and just wants to rev up again and return to her usual crammed schedule, having already skipped two appointments and in danger of missing another reception. I hate this whole brave-little-soldier routine. If she's so close to Carter, she should bloody well start listening to him. Carter wants to monitor her heart overnight. "In here?" Gamma asks. "I don't think so!" Carter calmly says that if she'll just wait long enough for him to check her blood work, they'll make the decision later -- but that she can definitely start fresh tomorrow. "There are no more tomorrows, John," Gamma says tiredly. "Your grandfather and I used to think we had a lifetime of tomorrows." Carter stares at her, concerned.

Susan calls Amal's house, masquerading as a friend from school with a query about Math homework. "Okay, great, I'll call after dinner," she says, masking frustration. Yosh flags her down and tells her that a Mr. Gadasco still awaits her attention. She doesn't know who that is, but kicks herself when she remembers he's the man whose wife died of an accidental overdose of anti-TB medication. Aghast that she forgot him, Susan runs to him immediately.

The following scene is delivered entirely in Spanish, but I'll do it in English again for simplicity's sake. Personally, I enjoy that the scene wasn't subtitled, because the actors ably communicated their meaning without being painfully obvious about it, plus the concept assumes a certain level of viewer astuteness. Gadasco asks Susan how it all went, and she quietly explains that the antidote didn't stop his wife's convulsions, which were so strong that they induced a heart attack. "Oh my God," chokes Gadasco. "We gave her an electric shock, and all the medication to save her, but she didn't respond," Susan says. "We worked with her for two hours, but she died." Gadasco's face crumples. He staggers backwards, turns to the wall and places his hands against it, leaning for support with his head hanging. "No!" he shouts suddenly, banging his head against the wall. "No, no, no, no!" Susan apologizes for his grief. "How could this have happened? What am I going to do?" he wails. "Eleven! The bottle said eleven!" Susan tries to calm him down, but to no avail. "We followed the directions! We thought we were doing everything right!" he cries. Susan again begs him to simmer down, aware that this is tumultuous news for him. "What am I going to tell my sons?" he demands tearfully. "Why did this have to happen? Why did this have to happen?" Susan repeats over and over again how sorry she is, and gently puts a hand on his shoulder, guiding him onto a seat. As he leans his forehead into his hands, Susan sits silently with him, shouldering some of his pain.