Meanwhile, Sharon still languishes in bed, her body consumed by the crazy mysterious Sharon illness. She peeps out like a zombie behind her giant forest green comforter and milks it for all it's worth. Kat comes by for a visit and tells her that she's "scaring the whole household." Whereas before she was just annoying the hell out of everyone. Sharon manages to tell Kat that she can't swallow. Kat offers to call a doctor. Sharon doesn't even respond. Lars calls a doctor, who tells him to bring Sharon in the next day. Unfortunately, Sharon can't move. She squeaks that she has earaches and nosebleeds. Lars tells her that the doctor told him that if it was just tonsillitis, she'd be able to move. The housemates get even more worried. Lars calls another doctor who actually gets concerned enough to make a house call. Neil explains in a voice-over that, in England, they have the National Health Service, which means that "if you're really sick, you can get a doctor to come to the house." Funny, I had always heard that having the National Health Service (i.e. socialized medicine) meant that you had to wait forever in a nasty dank state-run waiting room to see a doctor. ["Doesn't that happen at HMOs, too? I'm just saying." -- Wing Chun] I'm not being critical of socialized medicine. It's a lovely idea and I'd be thrilled if we could get something like that in the U.S. But given that you can't even get a house call from a registered nurse in the U.S. even when you have private insurance, I don't understand how Sharon is getting a house call from an actual M.D. that's being paid for by the state. ["I have lived with socialized medicine most of my life, and while I think the standard of care is pretty high here, I've never heard of anyone getting a house call." -- Wing Chun] I mean, there's a legitimate reason that ex-pat Madonna fled the U.K. as soon as she went into labor and had her second child in an American hospital. It's called "getting what you pay for." Anyway, the doctor enters the house, goes up to Sharon's room, pokes around in her throat for a while, and diagnoses her as having a "nasty case of tonsillitis." Sharon is all, "That's what I thought I had." The doctor writes her out, like, nineteen different prescriptions for antibiotics and such.
Bunim: [looking over the dailies] Fuck, shit, bitch, piss, doody, sissy, crap!
Murray: Mary-Ellis? Are you sure those diet pills are really such a good idea?
Bunim: Jonathan, I'm serious. Get a gander at this doctor!
Murray: Jiminy Cricket! That women is homely!
Bunim: Hey, Paula Poundstone called, she wants her self-loathing dykey attitude back!
Murray: In generations past we'd have called her "plain." Now she's just a freak. Who let her on the set?
Bunim: I'm told they had to let her in the house despite her camera unfriendliness because apparently Sharon was sick or something and it was an emergency.
Murray: Oh, I hate it when that happens.
Bunim: I think I'm going to distribute a memo to the production team. The next time someone is sick, have the hospital send over a selection of doctors, and have them meet us outside the house so that we can take some Polaroids and make a casting decision. Jesus H. Christ! Where did she get that blazer? Today's Man? That Jimmy is a helluva production manager but sometimes he just panics and doesn't think too hard y'know?
Murray: It can happen to the best of us. Have some more coke.