Mere's back to voiceover duty this week, but it's hard to concentrate on what she is saying when we see Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres, one week old and 1 lb, 1 oz, in her tiny incubator hooked up to an even tinier ventilator. As she holds up a tiny hand, Mere says something about the importance of response time.
Like daughter, like mother: Callie is holding up her own hand and glaring fiercely at the loose fist while Bailey, Cristina and Arizona cheer her on. Finally, she manages to nearly straighten her fingers. She and the docs are thrilled but after a moment her face goes from happy to defeated. Arizona comforts her while Bailey gently reminds her that they are just trying for small goals right now; it's clearly not the first time they've had this conversation. Bailey is checking on Callie's impressively long incision when Mark comes in with the most recent pictures of Sofia and good news about how she kept breathing through the night. Sofia also apparently has a brain bleed, but the good news is that it's not getting any worse. If I may mix metaphors -- talk about taking your silver linings where you can find them. Mark's pumped to hear that Callie straightened her hand out, and everyone's happiness is super genuine about these little victories, but Callie is obviously already sick of it. She wants to see Sofia, and Bailey has to remind her that she can't do that until she's mobile and her infections are gone. She starts to tell Callie she'd let her see the baby if she could, but Callie pouts and turns her head away, so Bailey leaves her to her little tantrum. Cristina also tells Callie that she knows Bailey would let Callie see Sofia if she could, and she's rewarded with a fist and an ever-so-slightly raised middle finger. Cristina is impressed and congratulates Callie on flipping her the bird before leaving her friend alone in her hospital room. Mere tells us that even though you're surrounded by all sorts of doctors and other folks, recovery is a solitary, lonely business.
Doris Roberts is guest-starring this week, though she looks almost unrecognizable; it appears the makeup team modeled her look after Skeletor. She is dying of lung cancer, and the makeup team has really made me believe it. Alex and Owen are trying to convince her to stop smoking but she just yells at them both that the infection she has is their fault, and refuses to listen when Owen tells her that her cancer has spread. She's prone to bragging about how much money she has and how she could sue the pants off of Seattle Grace, but methinks her bark might be bigger than her bite. She certainly gets the choicest lines of the episode, yelling at them that the hospital is a "third-rate crap factory" and she wants to go home. Alex is tired of the verbal beatings and begs Owen to just discharge her, but as Owen is a professional he of course won't do it. He tells her that her white blood count has to be at an acceptable level, so she asks him what that is -- a 2, and she's currently at 0.8 -- and then immediately starts to try and negotiate the number down to a 1.5. When the doctors don't play along, she gives up but asks for a wheelchair so that she can go outside for a cigarette.