Inside, Gallant compresses Chem's chest, but her heart won't beat. The paddles aren't working. Pushing drugs isn't working. Gallant notices that Chem's breath sounds are decreasing on the right side. "You put the tube in too far," he complains. Pratt claims that he put it exactly as far in as it was supposed to go. Oh, get a room, boys. They banter and bicker and Carter makes Pratt pull out by two millimeters, and the sexual tension palpable enough that Chem would be lighting a cigarette right now, if she wasn't knocking on Heaven's door.
Kayson enters. "Ah, the girl who cried wolf," he sasses. He's utterly unconcerned that Chem's in serious arrest. This even manages to piss off Pratt; Kayson watches with little interest as they enter Chem's twelfth minute of not breathing.
Elizabeth is with clueless Thomas. Remember this storyline? Truncated filler crap? Yeah. Lizzie is trying to explain that they removed Margaret's spleen, but that there's some liver damage and she's on a ventilator indefinitely. Naturally, Thomas has no recollection of who Margaret is, because his Alzheimer's is advanced. What the hell is this story? No point. It's barely a blip. "Do you remember why you're here?" Elizabeth finally asks. "I remember," lies Thomas. "I remember everything." Elizabeth stares at him and hangs her head as the Tinkling Piano of Old People Are Sad plays us into the next scene.
Chem's been down for thirty-nine minutes. She's toast. She's burnt toast. Kayson calls it. The piano music changes to Beethoven's little-known Hypochondriacs Can Get Sick, Too symphony in A Minor. "Any family?" Carter asks. "Nobody," Gallant spits bitterly. "She didn't have nobody." Grimly, Kayson whips out some stats to cover his ass, claiming that based on what he saw and knew of Chem, 99\% of the time, nothing would've happened. "Gotta go with the odds," he shrugs. "If you like to gamble," Pratt fires back. Gallant shakes his head slowly. "Progressive dyspnea, suggesting symptoms of cardiac ischemia," he murmurs. Carter senses that Gallant's going to explode and tries to shush him, but he fails. "I let you miss the signs," he chides himself. "She was a batty, self-medicating hypochondriac," Kayson counters. "Who you didn't feel like dealing with!" Gallant shouts. He rails that if they'd only admitted her, they'd have caught this and saved her life. "If you felt that strongly, you should've spoken up," Kayson shouts. "He tried to!" Pratt yells. "Is anyone talking to you?" hisses Kayson. Hee. Gallant screams that all Kayson's years of experience amounted to jack shit here -- Chem died because no one took her seriously. "Easy, son," snarls Kayson. "I am not your son," growls Gallant, fighting tears. Carter makes Pratt drag Gallant outside for a breather.