Today is Sensitivity Training Day, thanks to Chief Derek. As Cristina cracks wise, Alex yawns and April doodles “Derek loves April,” over and over, Bailey reads the rules for being a sensitive physician from a piece of paper with an enthusiasm usually reserved for IKEA furniture assembly instructions. She’s rushing through it because there’s a reason for today’s mandatory lesson, and he’s on his way to the ER. Bailey warns everyone to watch their mouths, their facial expressions and clever banter, or there will be consequences. Here’s this week’s patient, Bobby.
Bobby has stomach pains. Stomach pains. Why do I taste blood? Because I’m biting my tongue. How ’bout them Red Sox?
Within seconds, Avery makes an elephant joke and is booted from the case. Cristina is sent packing for merely saying the words “fat joke.” Everyone else remains as stone-faced as humanly possible — everyone except Bobby, that is. Fact is, Bobby is the only one making endless fat jokes.
And the only one laughing at them is his pretty, little wife, Melissa. The doctors eye each other and work with their heads down, ignoring the, uh, elephant in the room.
Of course this ginormous dope is married to a pretty, thin woman. The tradition goes back to the Stone Age.
During his initial exam, Alex discovers a huge infection festering deep in the folds of Bobby’s endless abdominal fat. Alex also finds the TV remote, half a burrito, $5.83 in loose change, and Jimmy Hoffa.
Elsewhere, Callie is checking out a patient’s knee, while the patient blatantly checks her out.
Callie smiles uncomfortably. Nice pick up line. It’s way better than, “Do you sleep on your stomach?” followed by, “Can I?” which almost never works. Almost.
After being kicked off Bobby’s case, Cristina tags along on Teddy’s exam of a young mom complaining of dizziness and nausea. Turns out she’s having a heart attack right then and there, as she talks to Teddy. The mom gets rushed off, leaving Cristina in charge of her nine-year-old daughter.
Excellent. If there’s one thing Yang is good with, it’s children.
Meanwhile, Bobby is being wheeled through the corridor. They reach an impassable doorway, prompting him to make a lame-o “wide load” crack. Melissa chuckles lovingly while everyone else pretends they’re deaf. Bobby announces he will stand and walk, something he hasn’t done in over a year. Other things he hasn’t done in over a year? Seen his own feet, wiped his own ass, or insisted, “No, really, I’m full.”
Bobby stands up while the doctors gasp in alarm. He tells Melissa it reminds him of their wedding day. She melts as if that’s romantic, and not at all like life has gone completely off the rails when the mere act of being vertical reminds him of the distant past.
A moment later, his 700+ pounds snaps his ankle like a dry twig, sending him crashing to the floor, dragging Webber down with him.
Richard hasn’t been on top of anything that wide and undulating since he owned a waterbed in 1979.
As if Bobby doesn’t have enough problems, Callie says she needs the CT scanner to examine his ankle, but Derek nixes the idea because the machine will break under his weight. Charles sincerely suggests they take Bobby to the zoo, where they have rhino-size equipment. So long, Charlie.
Wondering how this guy got so fat? Melissa tells Lexie that after losing his job five years ago, Bobby eventually chose eating over trying. Since he hasn’t stood up in over a year, we can assume she chose feeding him over helping him. Some women love to be needed, even if it is only for their Costco membership. Only recently did she decide to call for help for his “indigestion.”
Sounding like a Christian greeting card only makes things worse, little Grey.
High school-style drama is unfolding elsewhere, when Derek casually mentions to Meredith that Owen did not endorse Teddy for a permanent position, and in fact, sounded like he wanted her to leave. Derek walks away, oblivious to the can a worms he’s just handed Meredith, who stand slack-jawed and itching to tell Cristina.
You’ll have to forgive Chief Derek. He’s a little preoccupied. After fulfilling a brain-dead woman’s DNR wishes, Derek finds himself in a lawsuit initiated by her grieving, finger-pointing husband. Maybe that’s why he’s a little risk adverse this week. Later, in a meeting about the 25 things that could kill Bobby if they operate, Derek tells Mark, Bailey, Webber and Owen that he sees no reason to spend time and resources “caring for someone who obviously does not care for himself.”
Derek leaves to cancel the new liver for the alcoholic in room 301, the triple bypass for the smoker in ICU, and Heidi Montag‘s butt lift.
In lesbian news, Callie is still humoring the flirtatious advances oozing from her patient’s eyes and lips.
Get a room, you two.
Charles and Lexie call Callie out on her eyelash batting, but Callie says it was just part of her awesome bedside manner. She also tells them they’re morons and pervs. Uh huh. Meanwhile where the hell is Arizona? Is she off today, researching nude beaches in Spain?
During lunch, the gang wonders aloud how Bobby and Melissa managed to get preggers. Cristina uses some visual aids to work out the improbable logistics.
As the table laughs, Melissa walks by. She takes great offense, as if she doesn’t witness the misuse of a cheeseburger and fries on a daily basis. Everyone stares at their pudding cups as she asks about their sex lives. What positions do you like? What does your freak flag look like? On one hand, her point is well taken. How many lesbians are sick of asshat straight people asking, “Yeah, but what exactly do two women do together?”
I don’t care if Alex likes to be diapered or Cristina wants Owen to dress up like a clown. And I’m happy to tell you exactly what two women do in bed together. But your story is infinitely more interesting than any of ours, Melissa dear.
I also wonder how Melissa never noticed the stench of rotting flesh while she was done there — Richard and Bailey explain to Bobby that his skin has become necrotic. Ew. Only a risky surgery can save him. Bobby isn’t jazzed at the idea of living or worse, being a dad. He tells them he wants to be dead before the kid comes because after trying diets, pills and hypnosis, he no longer wants to live. I guess it never occurred to this couple that she should just stop bringing him whole cheesecakes for breakfast.
Elsewhere, Cristina tries to comfort the little girl by telling her that she and her dad got into a bad car accident when she was a kid. And it was scary. Cristina lies and tells the girl her dad was OK, instead of telling her the truth: he died. Just then, the girl’s mom gets much worse. Teddy barks at Cristina to come help, but now Cristina is torn between the sweet joy of cardio surgery and the fear she recognizes in the little girl’s eyes.
After all the polite smiles and carefully chosen words, Alex finally tells Bobby a fat joke of his own: “What do they call the guy who was so fat, he couldn’t get out of the house? Dead. And selfish. Yeah. ‘Cause you left a 700 pound mess for your wife to clean up.” Thank you, Alex. Seventy-five percent of the world would find the problem of weighing 700 pounds incomprehensible. Get over yourself, Arbuckle.
Later, Avery finds Cristina and the girl playing War with a deck of cards. He shakes his head, signaling to Cristina that the mom didn’t make it. Cristina keeps flipping cards and gently tells the girl how she might feel someday. The event brings up feelings of loss that only Owen can fix with confused but loving man arms.
In gayer news, Callie is giving her patient post-op instructions. The girl asks if she can drunk dial Callie while watching John Hughes movies. I don’t think that’s covered in Obama’s new healthcare plan. She grabs Callie’s hand and writes her phone number on her palm. Callie stammers and doesn’t ever once say, “I already have a girlfriend who’s some kind of wonderful, pretty in pink, and will be home alone if you don’t let go of my hand right this minute.”
Callie comes home to find Arizona arranging their next Adults Only vacation. She ruins the mood when she shows Arizona where her hands have been.
I know where we’re going. It’s called “Sweeps week.”
Callie starts to cry and whispers, “What are we going to do?” Arizona says simply, “I’m going to get my stuff together … and we’ll see each other at work.” Wait. What? That’s it?
What about processing? What about endless, circular arguments? What about dragging it out beyond all reason, months of denial and backpedaling during every moment of weakness? What kind of crappy-ass lesbians are you two?
Ask anyone who’s ever had a relationship with a co-worker how “seeing each other at work” makes anything better after the break up. Go on. I’ll wait.