Remember those fun chats about Bailey’s “surgical field?” Well, those have vanished faster than a week’s worth of growth on a Nads strip. This week, we’re back under the pall that shrouds the hospital like a Seattle fog. Meh. I knew it couldn’t last.
Owen’s first narrated words are “Dying isn’t easy.” Also not easy? Comedy. And sleeping. Owen can’t sleep. While Cristina enjoys a dream in which she accepts a Harper Avery Award while sitting on a pile of money as her mother brushes her hair, Owen is eating breakfast things and doing push-ups in the dark. He gets back in bed, just in time for the alarm to go off. Cristina wakes up, gives him a kiss, and never wonders why he tastes like orange juice.
At the hospital, Teddy is talking to Sara Gilbert, this week’s terminally ill guest star. “Kim” has decided to end her life with dignity, resolve, and a giant fistful of downers. Her attractive, fluffy-haired husband, Sean, listens carefully as Teddy explains the rules concerning physician-assisted suicide. It’s clear that Sean is a giving, soulful partner. First of all, his name is “Sean.” Secondly, there’s this sweater.
By law, Kim has to state her intentions in front of a second doctor, so Teddy asks Owen to be a witness. Kim says calmly, “I’d like to end my life through physician-assisted suicide.” Owen gets uncomfortable and leaves the room while Teddy explains that it takes 45 minutes to die from pills, which coincidentally, is also the length of an hour-long TV show, without commercials. How does it feel to die in 45 minutes? Ask the actors from the new Melrose Place.
Elsewhere, Mark is absolutely giddy with the revelation that you can really get to know a person if you remain vertical and clothed. Callie and Arizona are amused because Mark’s just caught on to what lesbians have known for forever.
For example, Mark’s learned that Teddy doesn’t like the word “moist.” While that’s fascinating and delightful, there’s only one way to find out someone’s definition of the word, and Ellen, it ain’t over coffee. Maybe our way isn’t so great after all.
After Arizona gives Callie a kiss and skips off to save some babies, Callie confesses to Mark that there’s a problem in Calzonia.
Callie: Arizona doesn’t want kids. In her womb, in her house, ever. She told me.
Mark: What did you say?
Callie: Nothing! I mean, we were doing so great. I don’t want to ruin it by being the crazy desperate girl with aching womb.
Mark: Better than being the crazy, childless woman who sits at the playground, watching the children play. They have laws for people like that. You gotta tell her.
From the look on Callie’s face, she’d rather stalk kindergartners.
Meredith heedlessly pulls Derek out of a serious budget meeting just to say “Hi, honey,” and talk about an interesting tumor she’ll be working on later. As Chief, Derek doesn’t have time for breezy conversations about her day anymore. He walks away from her crestfallen face. What is she, 12?
Outside, the Alex, Avery and Dr. Big Foot are waiting on ambulances carrying three middle-aged adventure seekers, but mostly, they’re waiting for the EMT with the nice ass. At work, as in life, you have to make your own fun.
Richard joins them, putting an end to the boy talk. No one wants to ogle girl parts with Gramps around. The EMT catches Big Foot eyeing the junk in her trunk and says, “What are you lookin’ at, Chachi?” Oh snap. Chachi is his name from now on, which is helpful, considering I never bothered to learn his real name.
Owen is also watching a girl’s ass: Teddy’s. However, his thoughts don’t involve doing nasty things to it. Suddenly, he’s back in Iraq where soldiers are dying, medical supplies are low, and their lives are in constant danger. Owen sucks at the daydreaming thing.
Back in Kevorkian Central, Kim is trying to get Sweater to admit he’s scared. Stoic and avoidance-prone, he doesn’t say anything except, “Don’t worry about me.” Kim says gently to Cristina, “You want to know how they’re feeling. They don’t tell you.” In her real lesbian life, I doubt Sara Gilbert has this problem.
In Owen’s flashback, he’s racing through the desert in an armored vehicle with some wounded soldiers and his fellow doctor buddy. They hit a roadside IED and crash. Owen emerges to find limbs scattered in the sand and one soldier burnt beyond recognition. His buddy is pinned under the wreckage and bleeding.
It’s just a flesh wound.
In the present, Owen has turned dark and broody and yells at Cristina for no good reason. He stomps off, leaving her to wonder what he’s feeling. Unlike Kim, Cristina does not find it endearing.
Mark and Callie are treating two of the three stooges after their disastrous attempt to avoid middle-age – jumping out of a helicopter with skis on. Instead of having a good run down a pristine mountain face, they caused an avalanche. With the lame bravado found only in paunchy, balding buffoons, they high five each other’s 40-something awesomeness. At least one of these jackasses drives a Corvette, I can feel it.
Meredith soon learns that her husband isn’t above immaturity either. He’s stolen her tumor surgery right out from under her. Why? Because he can. And he makes no excuses and doesn’t apologize for it either. Meredith is livid and yells at him. The corridors of Seattle Grace are like theater-in-the-round.
At lunch, it’s the high school cafeteria hierarchy all over again. Richard approaches, tray in hand, and makes a weak attempt to join the cool kids: Callie, Arizona, Mark and Owen. No one asks him to sit down, so he wanders off to find the kids from the chess club.
Mark is eating is his usual apple while Arizona pokes at her lasagna. Mark loves apples. That’s all he ever eats. And yet, he’s surrounded by doctors. Think about it.
Mark is trying to get Callie to talk womb with her girlfriend. Before Arizona grows any more suspicious about their whispering, Teddy skids to a stop in front of Owen and tears him a new a-hole. She’s found out that he went over her head, convinced Derek that Kim needed more tests, and is stalling the scheduled suicide. “What the hell is your problem?” she demands loudly. Oh goodie. More theater.
After lunch, the boy doctors are preparing to operate. Richard gives a scrub nurse the once over and attempts some locker room talk of his own.
Richard: If I wasn’t happily married, I’d hit her. I’d hit her hard.
Alex: Sir, I think what you wanted to say was “hit that.”
Bailey: [from behind] I don’t think you wanted to say that at all.
Bailey is like found money. Whenever she appears, it just makes your day.
In a different OR’s scrub room, Avery tells Meredith not to be mad at Derek for stealing her surgery. Of course he knows what happened. Everybody knows what happened. Avery advises her to be like Cindy Loo Who. Instead of holding a grudge against the Grinch for ruining Christmas, she should sing. Um, what? I think Avery might have just said something extremely random, but once again, I was hypnotized by his Husky blue peepers and wasn’t really listening.
Derek finds Owen and tells him the superfluous test results came back as expected. There is no hope for Kim and her suicide will go on as scheduled. Owen mutters, “You’re not going to kill him. I won’t let you kill him.” Derek reminds Owen the patient is a woman. Time to go home and lay down, sweetie.
Meanwhile, here’s Callie, standing like a lesbian.
The more level-headed Peter Pan confesses to Callie that he secretly hates scaling mountains and running with the bulls. She takes it upon herself to tell his buddies the inconvenient truth. Turns out, they all hate it. “I can’t believe you guys. I almost died jumping out of a damn helicopter, when I wanted to go wine-tasting in Napa,” says the most gung-ho (and possibly gay) of the three.
Elsewhere, Richard gives Derek some Chief-to-Chief advice: start each day with a surgery, so he doesn’t have to steal his wife’s thunder to feel like a man. Let someone named Patricia forge his name, because, ya know, it’s just legally-binding paperwork. And lastly, sit with him at lunch, so he doesn’t have to socialize with those creeps from the morgue.
The show is almost over and Kim finally gets her death wish.
I guess it really does take 45 minutes to die.
Later that night, Callie comes clean with Arizona.
Callie: This is really hard for me to say, because I really care about you, and —
Arizona: Oh my God, you’re breaking up with me. Mark. Is it Mark? Are you sleeping with Mark again? Are you one of those fake lesbians just having a va-va-vacation in Lesbianland?
Stuttering is suddenly adorkable and sexy.
Callie: Stop. God, it’s not bad. This thing I have to tell you is not bad. I want to have a baby, at some point in my life. That’s all. I have to have a baby.
Arizona’s face is unreadable. But don’t worry, kids. I have a feeling Lesbianland is better than the Motherland. Callie now knows the customs and ways, and really likes the local cuisine. These crazy kids are going to work it out.
In Owen’s final flashback, it’s pitch dark in the desert. After five hours of holding his head on with his bare hands, Owen’s buddy is ready to go into that good night. Owen won’t let him until his buddy convinces him there’s no hope. Finally, Owen releases the artery and lets his friend bleed out and die. Ten seconds later, a chopper’s search light finds them. Teddy is on board with medical supplies and relief in her eyes.
No wonder Owen’s a tortured mess.
Cristina finds him doing some more pre-dawn push-ups and asks what’s wrong. Of course, he says nothing, and tells her to go back to bed. What doesn’t kill us makes our pecs stronger.