Mrs. Reynolds moans that her gut is going to burst. This can't be good. "Lemme guess -- she ruptured her intraperitoneal pus," Romano says, joining Chen and Gallant. Wow. Hot. Chen announces that Mrs. Reynolds is septic. "My gut's killing me," wails Mrs. Reynolds. "This has to mean vomit," I say out loud. "BRAAAAAAAAP," says the NBC Vomit Comet, dumping its orange contents from the woman's mouth onto Romano's white sleeve. Welcome back, old pal. The toe-fearing public has missed your predictable shenanigans. Gallant helps Romano remove the coat. "Should I page Corday?" Chen asks. "Screw that," Romano spits. "If she can't diagnose [this repellent abscess of the gut, or something], then she sure as hell can't fix it." He peels off the vomit-soaked bandage on his arm, and reveals a really nasty red sore. Even Chen's grossed out. "Looks necrotic, you should get it debrided," she says. On the tip of my tongue, really, that was. Romano lists all the symptoms and the patient's history and concludes that it was a classic case that Elizabeth missed. I don't quite get why she's getting blamed -- she sure seemed crabby, but did Chen and Gallant not think to investigate the patient's history earlier when they were first so confused about her fever and abdominal pain? It's all a little confusing to me. I need to be beaten over the head with this. I need subtitles that explain this stuff, and that are maybe a little sassy. Romano dramatically decides that it's too late to take her to the OR because she's already septic. "We have to do this under ultrasound," he says. "Put her in Trauma Two." Chen and Gallant are shocked.
Jerry calls Carter to the phone, but Malik yells that George, his heart-attack patient, coded. He chooses Door #2 and orders Jerry to take a message. Jerry tries, but the caller says it's urgent, so he hands the phone to Weaver.
As Carter works in Trauma Yellow, Kerry slowly approaches and softly implores Carter to take the phone call. He hears her, but continues working. "It's your grandmother," Kerry murmurs. Carter seems torn but keeps on working with George. "John," Kerry says, louder. He turns. Weaver is the picture of pity. "I'm sorry," she says gently. "Is she dead?" he asks -- and his tone is all business, totally calm, as if Gamma had been lying in a coma and he'd said his goodbyes and was waiting for the flatline. This felt really, really weird. "I'm sorry," Kerry repeats. Carter nods, turns back to George, and we fade to black feeling like we got robbed yet again of a potentially emotional moment, and completely confused as to why the show chose to make it all, "Is she dead? Okay," like it wasn't a big deal and he won't miss tying the apron strings into pretty bows.