Richard is in a dark room, talking to a sleeping Ellis and telling her that he knows it's hard being the one that's gone. "But it isn't easy being the one around." Well, it would be a little easier if he found the perfect hat, I'll bet.
Meredith and George are sitting at the nurse's station, and Izzie joins them. She reports that Cristina will be in a lot of pain the next few days but she'll be okay, and Meredith sincerely tells her she's glad that Izzie was there. Izzie asks, "Are you?" This was back when a question like that really illustrated Izzie's insecurity at being part of the group, rather than later when they played it to the hilt -- past the hilt, even -- and made her a bitchy shrew. Le sigh. Meredith assures her that she does mean it, and Izzie admits that she feels left out a lot of the time. There's a moment while Mere considers this, and instead of addressing it directly she says, "About Alex?" Izzie interrupts to say, defeated, that she knows they hate him and that it's fine. George groans at the drama. Meredith agrees that it's true, but she also believes he's different when you get to know him. The bonding is interrupted when her mother's test results arrive. Meredith reads them and after a moment, tells George to let her know, and hands him the paper as she walks away. Izzie asks if she's okay and, still walking, she calls that she's not. George reads the results for himself.
He then goes into Ellis's room, which wakes her, and she demands that he go away. Seeing Meredith so affected seems to have moved the stick all the way up his behind into his spine, and he says he won't. "I am Thatcher Grey, and I'm you're husband. And I know you don't like me very much but the fact is, sometimes I don't always like you very much either. I don't like the way you speak to me. And I really hate the way you speak to Meredith. She deserves better from you." She doesn't appear to care much about this display of cojones, but she does say she's sorry. George is stunned. Ellis then asks what's wrong with her. He begins to speak but she interrupts and asks if it's algebra. Frustrated, she tries again and again; on the third try she gets out the word "malignant." George tells her that it's benign. She stares at the ceiling and lets out a little sigh. It's like she's got the worst of both worlds -- she remembers nothing but her medical knowledge, which of course means she can understand the other ailments that she has, at least sometimes.