Previously on MDs: Donge, Fishlips, and Coones showed us that rules were made to be broken, while doctors Kellerman and Dalgety showed us that they're more than happy to do so. There was no shower scene.
This week, we open in an O.R., where some cheesy rock is blaring and "Killer" Kellerman is just finishing up a heart surgery. He pokes the cow's heart a couple of times, declares, "Perfect," and orders an assistant to take the patient "off bypass." Fishlips stands outside the room's glass wall and presses the button of a handy-dandy little intercom. Baiting the trap, she pleasantly says that she sees they're coming off bypass. "Indeed we are, nurse doctor," Kellerman answers jovially. With a small smile, she watches the trap spring, announcing that he can make the five o'clock staff meeting, then. Kellerman barely flinches. He glances at the clock on the wall: ten to five. He considers chewing off his own leg, but thinks better of it. "Looks that way," he calls. "Unless I get lucky and one of these grafts clots on me," he mutters into the chest cavity. Fishlips presses the button and says she didn't catch his last remark. Kellerman reiterates that he'll be there. Fishlips looks quite pleased with her tricky self and hustles off in search of more prey. Over the cavity, the surgeons kvetch about the hell that is a staff meeting. "Sometimes there's snacks," Kellerman says hopefully. He leaves the team to close up the chest of non-cooperative, unclotting grafts.
He wanders into a scrub room just in time to hear Dalgety, through yet another glass wall, giving orders on prepping a patient. Dalgety comes in to scrub up. Kellerman asks about the gurney-meat. "Losing end of a knife fight." "Lucky bastard," Kellerman says wistfully. "Lucky nothing," Dalgety retorts, informing Kellerman that he stole the patient off another doctor. Smugly, he muses that the repairs should take about an hour. Kellerman starts dragging himself in the direction of the meeting, but Dalgety stops him, saying cheekily that his patient may have suffered some aortic damage. Dalgety extends the invitation, which Kellerman accepts with alacrity. Snatching a mask, he grabs a nurse and asks her to pass the message to Fishlips that "Dr. Kellerman regrettably...sends his regrets."
Meanwhile, the meeting is just getting underway up in a conference room. Pangborn's circling the table, distributing thick reports and droning about operating costs or some such zzzzz. She looks up when Fishlips enters, and anxiously asks whether "they" are coming. Fishlips flatly informs her that the miscreants will not be in attendance, Dalgety having "nabbed himself a stabbing and pulled Dr. Kellerman in to consult." Pangborn looks defeated. Coones informs her that Kellerman hasn't been arsed to attend a meeting in years. If the platter of anemic, irradiated veggie sticks on the table constitutes the "snacks," I can't say I blame him. I mean, would it kill them to toss a bag of Cheetos on the table? Pangborn's spirits rise as she informs them that she's "been exploring new sources of revenue." She tells them that she's had the very clever and never-before-seen-on-a-medical-show idea of allowing a film company shoot at the hospital. She's met with a collective groan. Something tells me the actors didn't have to stretch too hard on that one. Pangborn says the company promised not to disrupt anything. She's met with a round of dubious snorts and my own silent eye-roll. Pangborn silences the naysayers with the announcement that the company will make a $40,000 contribution to the hospital. The doctors fall silent. One smugly pulls out a pair of oversized aviators, slides them on, and announces with feigned boredom that he knows one of the producers, so if anyone's harboring dreams of bright lights and extras work, he can probably hook them up.