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Grey’s Anatomy Recap: 5.5 “There’s No ‘I’ in Team”

Doing that slow thing — Callie and Erica arrive at Callie’s apartment after their dinner at Canto’s. They’re blithe and relaxed because nothing puts a girl in a good mood like pasta al dente and the prospect of getting to second base.

In a seemingly innocuous tone, Erica asks about roommate Cristina’s whereabouts. Callie says Yang is on call tonight as she pours them both some wine. Callie brings Erica her glass. Cue the Barry White.

Callie: Can I just say, the whole “taking it slow thing?” Best idea ever. Erica: It really takes the pressure off. Callie: Mm. Yeah, we can just hang out without all … Erica: …the expectations. Callie: Why rush things? Erica: Exactly.
They stand sipping wine and nodding in agreement. They stare at each other. Callie visibly holds her breath, still nodding and staring. Yup. Just hanging out. Going slow. Doing the slow thing.

Without another word, they urgently reach for each other and kiss fervently. Clutching tightly, they fall onto the couch as the camera discreetly ducks behind the kitchen counter. If that’s your slow pitch, I’d love to see your fastball.

The Shepherd Method — The next morning, over at Meredith’s house, Derek is eating cereal and wishing Meredith would join him for breakfast, the most important meal of the day. She’s late for work but pauses long enough for him to show off the latest issue of that old page-turner, Annals of American Neurosurgery. Boy, the mail comes early on her street.

Meredith sees Derek’s big smug face on the cover and reads the article title: “The New Method of Treating Inoperable Malignant Gliomas; The Shepherd Method…” Her voice trails off. There’s no mention of her, even though the clinical trial was her idea.

Oblivious, McEgo smiles twinkly-eyed at her, insufferably pleased with himself, and only himself. Derek has completely forgotten to mention her, but looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to gush on his Wheaties at his conspicuous fabulousness.

Meredith gives him a withering smile and says nothing.

Behind every great man is a woman who wouldn’t be wrong if she shoved her foot up his ass.

Take that Mercy West — At the hospital, the Chief is admiring the magazine as well. Any notice his doctors garner reflects well on his kingdom and therefore, himself.

As he drools over the magazine cover, Bailey gives him an update on some vague donor project she’s got cooking. The Chief sees more press releases on Seattle Grace letterhead in his future. Bailey humbly says things are falling into place but it’s a bit premature to start popping champagne corks. Chief can’t hear her, what with the all the applause in his head, so he wanders off to pose for a statue of himself wearing a toga and holding the Rod of Asclepius.

An idiot’s guide to lesbian sex — Later that morning, Callie comes bursting into a lounge where Sloan is alone, reading about the Shepherd Method with mild disgust. Callie doesn’t care about the article because there are much more pressing matters at hand.

Callie: Last night, Erica and I… we… we did it. Sort of. Mark: Well, congratulations. Callie: No. No, it was not good… at all. I choked.
I’m not sure “Yipes!” is a very good safe word.
Callie: I couldn’t… go down there. I tried, but it just felt so weird and clinical, like gyno rotation. I left this morning before she got up. I couldn’t even face her. What if me and Erica… what if we’re a mistake?
After traversing a safe passage through the northern mountains, Callie arrived in the motherland, only to find that the embassy was closed.

Callie’s being too hard on herself. One false start in the bedroom isn’t necessarily a mistake when you’re a beginner. Saying, “If you’re ever in the States, look me up!” while in a drunken stupor at a Danish fetish club — that’s a mistake. Or so I’ve heard.

Mark sighs, gets up, and dons his white doctor’s coat. He makes his way to the door.

Callie: [whining] Where are you going? Mark: I can’t talk about this. Callie: Oh, c’mon. You love talking about this stuff. Girl-on-girl! It’s hot. Mark: Two girls getting nasty and loving it? That’s hot. One girl talking about how much it sucked? Depressing. And wrong. Just wrong!
I have to agree with Sloan. Listening to a woman describe her night with another woman as being “weird” and “clinical” and saying it was probably a mistake is not a fun way to start the day. It’s like telling a cat person you fail to find the charm in cats.

It’s all about Bailey — Lexie brings a festive balloon bouquet to George’s new digs in the residents’ cushy locker room. The rest of the gang watches as she over-decorates and babbles about how interns hardly ever file sexual harassment suits. Lexie is slowly going insane.

After that superfluous scene, everyone falls in behind Bailey to learn what she’s been up to while they’ve been pasting George’s picture on their vision board, having procedures named after them, and getting lost in downtown motherland. Bailey has orchestrated a “domino surgery” of kidney transplants: Six patients receive new organs from someone connected to another patient in need of a transplant. And all the surgeries have to happen at once, so no one backs out at the last minute.

Cristina doesn’t seem terribly impressed by the amount of work Bailey had to perform to coordinate a production of this size. All she wants to know is whether she gets to keep one of the diseased kidneys in a jar?

I have yet to find a flaw in this woman.

Soon, everyone wants one, too. Spoilsport Bailey announces no one gets to keep a commemorative souvenir because, “diseased kidneys are not tchotchkes for your coffee table.” Says you.

How’s that slow thing working out for you? —Erica spies Callie and floats over to her on a cloud of post-Sapphic euphoria. She smiles and asks Callie if she would like to come over later — they can order in and watch Under the Tuscan Sun. “Slow” is such a subjective term.

Erica smiles affectionately at Callie, but Callie’s not sure she wants to dine at Erica’s place.

Callie: Tonight? You want to get together again tonight? Erica: Well, I had a lot of fun last night. Callie: Fun! Erica: Anyway, just let me know.
Erica is either ignoring her nascent girlfriend’s hesitation, or too happy to notice, because she simply strolls away, leaving Callie alone with her clipboard, latex gloves and a sinking feeling she’s not a cat person. Peace and love and unicorns — Elsewhere, Cristina is leading her interns through the hospital and telling the one of them has to work with O’Malley. Lexie practically leaps out of her skivvies at the chance. Easy there, little pony.

Gah, Lexie is so artless, it’s almost painful.

Cristina would rather eat a diseased kidney than let an intern get their way, so she whips out her riding crop and says, “I decide who gets to go, after I decide which one of you sucks the most. You better not suck on purpose, because I will know.”

Not much danger in that..

One of the domino surgery patients has an obsequious wife who monitors his every bodily function. Another donor, a young woman, has no loved one in the circle of life and says she’s doing just ’cause. But don’t pat her on the back for it; those compliments are getting really old.

Also getting really old? Derek’s vainglorious attention-whoredom. Over by the elevators with Meredith, he smirks and feigns annoyance at all the photo ops the Chief is making him do.

Meredith says passive-aggressively that she doesn’t need her name on the Shepherd Method because then the world would know he didn’t do it alone. And that would be all confusing and stuff. Subtle. Meredith stomps off, leaving Derek bewildered by her interesting choice of words. Yes, she’s a cunning linguist. Which is more than Callie can say.

Faux altruism is the new black — Margaret Mead once said, “Never underestimate the power of a small group of committed citizens to change the world” but I don’t think she meant this lot of dysfunctional kidney patients: Their commitment is not what it seems.

Alex and Izzie might have stumbled onto an organ-for-money deal between a father and his estranged son, which is illegal. Bailey doesn’t want to hear about it because her Jenga tower of kidneys can’t afford any dropouts.

The young female donor with no obvious ties to the group turns out to be the mistress of the man with the doting wife. After three years of sneaking around, she’s under the delusion that if she gives her kidney to the cause, he’ll see how wonderful she is and choose her.

Meanwhile, between washing his feet and fluffing his pillows, his wife is also going under the knife for him.

Why are these two women willing to have a healthy organ torn from their bodies for a plain, pale, middle-aged man? Are things really that dire in Straightsville? He must be hung like a Clydesdale.

The man is busted when his girlfriend blurts out, “It’s been three years!” just as his wife returns with a washcloth for his guilty brow. The wife storms out, taking her kidney with her. The Jenga tower teeters precariously.

And that’s lunch — Callie brings her cafeteria salad over to where Mark is nursing a performance funk of his own — his BFF Derek made the cover of a medical journal, while all he does is makes time under the covers with a series of models. Like there’s something wrong with that.

Callie: Apparently, Erica loved it; “non-sex” sex. She might want more. Mark: Happens to me all the time with women. I barely remember if their minds are blown. Callie: That’s your sage advice? Mark: I’m a world-class surgeon, double-boarded in plastics and ENT. I have more meaningful and worthwhile things to do than dispense sex advice. Callie: Oh yeah? Like what? Mark: Nice. Callie: Oh, c’mon! Mark, no. I need your help!
Mark leaves the room to see about revolutionizing rhinoplasty surgery before dinnertime. Callie eats her salad alone, pondering how much longer she can have “non-sex” with Erica.

Can you have Lesbian Bed Death if you never had Lesbian Bed Life?

You suck — When word gets out that at least one donor is downstairs hailing cab, the Chief and Bailey try to calm an unruly mob of patients and their families.

The father and his surly, estranged son have a family feud in front of Alex and Izzie. Izzie calls the son a “selfish idiot” and “emotionally stunted.” Alex counters that the son is never going to give his dad what he wants, and the sooner the dad gets that, the better.

Golly, I wonder who they’re really talking about.

Downstairs, Cristina is tearing one of her doofus interns a new one for forgetting a patient’s history: “You forgot because the only thing you can retain in that pea-size brain of yours is what time lunch is. Grey here, is going to become a surgeon, while you dig ditches by the side of the road.” For the love of God, someone please give Sandra Oh an Emmy.

You suck more — Derek tries to appease Meredith, who’s silently seething, by offering to call the magazine and having them print one of those microscopic corrections at the bottom of the Letters to the Editor section that nobody reads. There. He fixed it.

But, it’s not enough that he makes the offer because he’s only doing so to end the fight. She wants him to do it because it’s the right thing to do: She deserves some credit for helping to invent the new procedure. Derek responds by calling her a “baby.” What a guy.

Derek was obviously trained by the Chief, because he, too, won’t break a sweat if there’s nothing in it for him. Chief tells Bailey to pull the plug on her domino surgery because the man’s wife is having second thoughts. Just like that.

This, from the guy who refused to send patients to higher ground when his water leak cover-up was imploding.

Look inside yourself — Erica and Callie find themselves in the same X-ray room. Erica touches Callie’s back as Callie studies an X-ray of herself, searching for signs of lesbianism. Erica casually asks her to coffee.

Callie: I’m not cut out for this. Erica: Coffee? Callie: No. This. The touching and the sex with a girl. I just can’t do it. I thought I could but… Erica: But you did do it. [pause] I don’t understand. [realizing] Oh. It wasn’t good for you.
Erica studies Callie’s somber face. Callie doesn’t tell her she’s wrong. Ouch.

The five-second rule — Bailey’s no quitter, even if the Chief is. Using her patented mélange of logic, compassion and special, short lady mind-control, she convinces the wife to donate, not for her cheating husband, but for the five sick strangers who need her organ to live.

The next thing you know, Bailey’s yanking a kidney out of the first donor ready to transplant the harvested organ. Meredith bathes it in solution and scoops it up in her slippery, gloved hands.

She promptly drops it on the floor. Splat. Five second rule! Five second rule!” Bailey shouts.

Yeah, kiss it up to God and stick it in. It’s only an organ transplant — it’s not like someone was going to eat it. Seattle

Grace should feel lucky they have a number 12 rating. If this continues, they’re going to end up on that last ledge, right before they fall off into the veterinarian clinic category.

Dropping other things — In other news, Callie comes bursting into the lounge where Mark is having a private pity party and wondering when his career became a non-event.

Callie: I know. You don’t want to talk about it anymore. I know you’re over it. Mark: Oh, for the love of God! Callie: Just hear me out. I like to be good at things, OK? I do not fail. I do not quit. I like to be good at things, and I want to be good at this. So, I need you. I need you to show me. Mark: Show you? Callie: Just because you didn’t publish a big clinical trial, doesn’t mean you’re not a genius. Mark: Fine. Take off your pants. Callie: Really? Oh my God, thank you! Thank you so much!
Callie is so grateful for the in-service, she can’t get her scrubs untied fast enough. Her hands are shaking with excitement. Flush with the knowledge that he is good at something, Mark informs her confidently: “I’ll show you the Sloane Method. I may not be in a medical journal, but I should.” Some might find it ridiculous — offensive, even — that Callie would go to Mark for lesbian lingual lessons. Well, the fact is, Mark is not only Callie’s “person,” he was her f-buddy. She knows he’s got the skillz that thrill. Of course he’s her go-to guy.

Why would you try to learn how to drive by reading DMV websites, when your BFF is Jeff Gordon?

Why they didn’t just run up to Ob-Gyn and grab an anatomically correct model for the demonstration is a really good question, except ya know, f-buddies.

Whatever. It was all done in order to please Erica later, so in a messed up, impertinent, douchey kind of a way, it was sweet.

Say! You all didn’t happen to do a bunch of drugs, did ya? —The man’s mistress, who took the expression “I’d give you my left kidney” too far, is in recovery. She asks about her married boyfriend but Yang tells her that he hasn’t come by to see her or even ask about her. The message is clear and doesn’t she feel foolish.

As Lexie watches the girl realize how much of herself she’s given up, literally, for a man who will never choose her, she doesn’t think at all about George.

Poor, invisible Lexie finds George in the locker room, where he’s getting dissed by his new interns: He wants them to come in early but they tell him to shove it. The belligerent bunch shuffles away to hide in the supply closet and take naps.

Lexie: Did you even ask for me? George: Wha? Lexie: I helped you study. I helped decorate your stupid locker. And you don’t even see it. You don’t see anything. I am such an idiot. And you are a jerk. You didn’t even think to ask for me? Screw you, Dr. O’Malley.
So, he should make his own lunch tomorrow?

Over on the other side of Crazytown, Chief nods appreciatively at the kidney donor schedule board. Bailey tells him one of her patients isn’t doing so well and is near-death but he can’t hear her because he’s writing more press releases in his head.

“I’ll need you available for some interviews and some photo ops. And make sure you wear your nice scrubs,” he tells Bailey, grinning. What are “nice scrubs?”

Meanwhile, the cheating husband has a new kidney, a pissed-off girlfriend who underwent major surgery out of love, and a wife who’s on the phone with a divorce lawyer. It’s a mess but the only thing he wants to know is, “Who’s going to care about my urine output now?”

Is everybody except Erica on crack?

Yay for being gay — At the end of the day, Bailey knows she saved at least five lives. She feels pretty darn good about it.

Derek Darling runs into her in the lobby. They congratulate each other. Bailey says pointedly, “Must feel good to see your name in print like that.”

Derek: It would feel better if Meredith wasn’t so, ya know. She’s acting silly about the credit. She’s getting emotional. Bailey: That girl worked her ass off for you. And you got all the credit. Derek: I would have gotten all the blame, had we had failed. Bailey: But you didn’t fail. Derek: It’s simple. I’m an attending and she’s a second year resident. Bailey: Who you’re now living with. That’s not simple, it’s messy. If it were me, I’d start with “Thank you.” You’d be surprised how far that one goes, especially with silly, emotional women.
I don’t know with absolute certainty, but I think straight men might need to be told what to do almost every moment of the day.

At the bar, Meredith tells Cristina that Derek is probably right, which instantly causes Cristina’s hair to catch fire. “Stop caring so much what he thinks!” she says as her eyes scan the room for just one real man.

Derek walks in with a jar of kidney in a gift bag and hands it to Meredith. A white flag, of sorts. Nothing warms a girl’s heart like a diseased organ floating in formaldehyde. If anyone wants to give me a Cyclops fetus in a jar, I wouldn’t stop them.

Bow chica bow bow — Emboldened with her new knowledge, Callie runs off to show Erica what she can do with the mouth part of her face.

Callie: Take off your pants. Erica: Excuse me?

Callie: Take off. Your pants. We’re trying this again.
Practice makes perfect.

The end — A bunch of stuff happens — Alex and Izzie kiss, Meredith admires her pet kidney, (it glows in the dark!) and Cristina spots the soldier who kissed a few weeks ago standing at the bar — but this time, I’m going to quit while we’re ahead. Or giving it. Whatever.

Next week — The Chief gives Bailey new powers and responsibilities. Owen Hunt’s first day proves to be traumatic for everyone except Cristina, who can’t take her cynical eyes off him.

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