OR. Peter "Black Ops" Benton is operating when Elizabeth comes to the door. My soul twin Dr. Babcock greets her in an uncharacteristically friendly tone, saying he thought she was on bed rest. "Hardly," she barks, and, in a steely voice, asks, "Is this another one of my patients, Peter?" Um. It's surgery? Maybe this patient couldn't wait for you? Benton mutters, "What?" Elizabeth snits, "Well, you seem to have taken on several additional responsibilities during my absence." "Well, I didn't have, really, much choice," Benton says, rather calmly considering what a snatch Elizabeth is at this moment. She passive-aggresses, "Oh. So you had to organize the educational conferences for the next two months and do my interview." Benton patiently tells her, "Well, I thought you were on medical leave for pre-term labour. Romano told me to keep this place running." This calm recounting of the facts momentarily throws Elizabeth off-track, but only for a moment: "Well, I was on medical leave, but now I'm back, and I am ready to resume all of my responsibilities as Associate Chief of Surgery, and if anyone has a problem with that, they can come and see me." Look, bitch -- get off the wheels, because there's no way of looking at this situation that makes you right. You've been gone for two weeks. As far as everyone in your department knew -- and according to all your medical advice -- you weren't going to be back at work until after your brat was born. The hospital couldn't just stop and wait for you, and if you're this much of a stressed-out control freak, your baby probably won't survive being clenched in your uterus for another several months, anyway. What is wrong with her and Mark that they can't just take time off when they suffer grievous medical emergencies? They have benefits! Their jobs will still be there when they get back! And -- hey, when is Elizabeth's mother going to come back and point out that Elizabeth is repeating exactly the same freakishly workaholic tendencies that Elizabeth claims made her childhood such a nightmare. Just...just shut up, Elizabeth. You're such an asshole that it makes me tired to have to point out the ways in which you are an asshole all the time. Anyway, she tears out (because she's on a tear, you see), and Dr. Babcock muses, "Think Greene developed that brain tumour after she got pregnant?" Me-YOW. Hee!
ER. Happy Gilmore's Grandma comes in and sits down on a bed, looking like she's waiting for a bus. Greene spots her and asks whether he can help her. Okay, since this is the "cute," "quirky" plot thread, allow me to summarize: she did a tarot reading and saw that she was going to die today, so she came to the hospital to do that with the least muss and fuss. Oh, and she reads Mark's palm and says he has a black cloud over him, and a crack in his life line. Wah wah.