Susan waits tensely outside the OR. She's without a stitch of makeup, her hair is down and slightly mussed, and she's staring at Romano as he finishes up with Melissa. Sherry Stringfield looks better when they don't put extra makeup on her. Romano exits the OR, fatigued. "Did you get it?" Susan breathes tensely, because the war against cancer is America's war, people, and this time, it's personal. "It bled like stink," Romano bitches. "Control was impossible around the rib cage, I was inside and outside her chest simultaneously." Susan prods, "Did you get it?" Romano sighs. "Yeah, I got it," he announces. Susan is delighted that he saved Mark...er, I mean, "Melissa." Susan exposits that Melissa's father is fine and due to be extubated in the afternoon. Romano visits the water fountain to splash water on his face, and marvels that getting hit by a cement truck turned out to be that girl's greatest blessing because if that cancer had gone undiscovered for much longer, she'd have had barely a 50\% chance of surviving it. "You should get some sleep," he says helpfully. "You look like crap." But Susan's still tense. "Are you sure you got it?" she urges. Romano is sure. Susan nods, relieved, and gazes fondly at little Melissa on her gurney, praying she'll grow up into a fine young man with spectacles and a penchant for misery.
Carter and Chen pedeconference about Al, the former noting that the only consistency in his treatment is that he doesn't want anything done to him. Chen reasons that if he had that discussion with Mark, then Mark should've damn well added that note to Al's chart. "Maybe Dr. Greene expected to be here," Carter retorts meaningfully, and his expression says, "Go flog yourself." Chen looks guiltily at the ground, aware that she just mentally cussed out a dead man and figuring she'll be haunted for that. She throws up her hands and says, "Fine. He's your patient."
Carter and Chen are interrupted by the sound of Pratt arguing with a flamboyant Italian grandmother, who brought in a young boy. She's waving her hands and yelling urgently at him, and Carter and Chen resort to rock-paper-scissors to see who's stuck saving his ass. Chen shoots rock -- hee, that sounds funny -- and Carter picks scissors, which is bull, because he should be squeamish about sharp objects. Carter's totally not a scissors guy. He's paper all the way. So, Carter loses. Except that if you think about it, scissors should always win, because although rock smashes scissors, scissors stab the rock-wielder. Anyway, Carter trundles over to Pratt and dons his best "What's All This, Then?" smile. "I don't speak Portuguese," Pratt snaps. "That's Italian," Carter points out. "That either," Pratt snorts. He did manage to figure out that the grandmother was babysitting for the tot when he woke up with a rash on his face. Carter reaches out and rubs the rash, then tastes it. It's the sweet flavor of youth. "Strawberry," he announces. Pratt is stunned. "Jelly, jam, cereal...." Carter supplies. Pratt is embarrassed.