The credits need to change, and soon. Who are they kidding with that shot of Anthony Edwards? He hasn't had hair in years. And Carter looks approximately twelve.
"Dear" Abby Lockhart trots over to the front desk and gripes that she has three puking patients and no emesis basins. Frank shrugs that they've got a new runner from Central Supply. "What happened to the old one?" Abby asks. "Nurses complained about not having any emesis basins," Frank grouses. He's so crusty and snide. He and Randi should have an affair, just because they have no other real function but to be, respectively, old and young. Carter and Susan walk inside, hair wet, smiling and teasing each other. "I twisted my knee in the locust position," Carter complains. Susan giggles that it's "lotus," not "locust," and Carter makes a stupid insect joke. They part company. Giggles abound.
Carter strolls toward Abby, who pointedly asks whether it's been raining. "No, Susan dragged me to a torture session..." he begins. They're interrupted by word of an apartment fire, from which a few victims will be arriving. Abby is about to clear the trauma rooms and forget the emesis basins, but Frank spies the runner and Abby bolts after her, shouting, "Hey, excuse me..." and calling for the basins and some fluid. The runner turns. Surprise! It's Neecole. "Luka got me a job," she Frenches proudly. "He did?" Abby asks pleasantly, but she's clearly gnawing an enormous hole through her cheeks. "He knew I was out of work, so he called me last week about the opening," Neecole glows. "It was so nice of him!" Abby purses her lips. "He's...nice," she teethes. Her molars are wee stumps of enamel by now. Neecole asks where the garments she's carrying should go, and Abby directs her to the linen closet, asking her for emesis basins and promising to get whatever else she needed herself. Neecole stares blankly at her. "What are those?" she asks. Lord! Isn't there a quiz? Shouldn't she know some lingo? "Barf bins," Abby explains. This still isn't enough. "Vomit buckets," she offers again. Neecole registers this and decides she can handle the task. Abby turns away, dumbfounded at the dumb Frenchie.
Elizabeth frantically tries to save her patient, the gentle Mrs. Wilson from last week. She calls for some saline, learns Mrs. Wilson's systolic blood pressure is seventy, and decides to change all the IVs and the central lines. "You did that yesterday!" accuses April, Mrs. Wilson's daughter. Calmly, Elizabeth explains that it's necessary to do it again, in case they're the source of the infection. We get a shot of Mrs. Wilson's unconscious face; she's wearing a very glossy, rich, berry-colored lipstick, and her silvery coif is intact. Kidney failure has never looked so attractive. Elizabeth assures April that the failure is reversible, but requires cardiac medications and some dialysis. "Put her on a machine?" squawks April. Elizabeth exposits, for those who don't understand the bean-shaped organ, that the kidneys aren't detoxifying Mrs. Wilson's blood properly. "No, no, if this is her time..." begins April. "It's not," Elizabeth insists. She orders Nurse Jacy to start a dopamine drip. "She's a DNR [Do Not Resuscitate], you know," Jacy points out. April sniffles that her mother never wanted to end up the way her father did, living on machines but not really alive. "I understand," Elizabeth says, still determined to ignore the girl's wishes. "April, her kidney failure is temporary. She could bounce back after treatments. It's worth trying." Carmen watches with interest, jotting down notes on Elizabeth's performance. April is totally dubious. Elizabeth is intense. Mrs. Wilson sits up and reapplies her lipstick. Finally, Elizabeth orders Jacy to call a nephrologist and a dialysis nurse. "You really want to do that?" Jacy disrespects. "Yes. Now," Elizabeth snaps.