Dissecting Grey's Anatomy: Age Ain't Nuthin' But a Number Edition
Now, Seattlest was paying attention to this episode, really we were. It's just that shortly prior to the program's start, we received a disturbing piece of news that has tainted this—and dare we say, all future—episodes. You see, Seattlest was spending something of a lazy Sunday afternoon catching up on back issues of magazines and one in particular had a feature on Miss Grey herself, Ellen Pompeo. Now, ordinarily, we stay away from mentioning anything about the actors and stick, instead, to the gooey goodness of the characters themselves—the meta potential, quite frankly, frightens us. But ladies and gentleman, this particular article gave us information so shocking, nay, unexpected, that we had to share. That our dear sweet Meredith, our innocent, world-unweary, naïve, inexperienced in the ways of the world intern, is, actually...36.
Now, don't get us wrong. Seattlest is no spring chicken herself. And we were always taught to respect our elders, but part of the Meredith/McDreamy dynamic is the illicit older man/younger woman aspect, no? So what's so wrong about two nearly-middle-aged people flirting? Nuthin. But props to the gal for fooling us into thinking she was at least a decade younger for the past year. And now back to your regularly scheduled recap...
So this week's ep starts off pretty much where we left off last week. The quints (remember them?) have been delivered two months prematurely and are out of their respective surgeries, with each intern assigned to look after one. Izzie continues to be bitter and pissed off after catching Alex doing the horizontal polka with Olivia (remember her?). She therefore invokes the universal girl code and enlists all her friends to be bitter and pissed off at Alex along with her. Aw, that's what friends are for.
Meredith graces us with this week's theme: That as surgeons, they're constantly ignoring their own needs, own desires, to tend to others. Uh, call us crazy, but we haven't noticed you depriving yourself lately, Mere. She also says that all they have is themselves, and there's nothing more lonely. But that's what Joe's bar is there for, right? No? Okay then.
George, in between bouts of accidental stalking of Meredith and McDreamy and dodging insults on his taste in women, is assigned to an outdoorsman with a wicked case of melanoma. Treatment? Leeches. Attached to the face. Okay, gross. And unless the good people from the Gummi Bears company (mmm...gummi bears) have come up with some great new product, it appears the blood-suckers are actually moving on the guy's face. They couldn't—wouldn't—use real ones, would they? Eww. Unfortunately, Olivia is the nurse assigned to help him out, and after the whole screwing Alex incident (just hours before, mind you), and the whole gave-him-syphilis incident (just months before, mind you), George is in no mood. And he says so, but in an ill-timed, in-front-of-the-patient sort of way. That's all right, Georgie, professionalism isn't everyone's strong suit.
The patient senses something, though, and after trying to reconcile Georgie and Olivia, learns that the good doc is actually in love with Meredith, who, unfortunately, is still the only one in the greater Seattle area who is not abreast of this information. Aww, Georgie! We feel for you, man, we really do. The patient is discharged but not before taking the leeches home with him to free back into the wild. And naming one of them "O'Malley." Aww, Georgie! We feel for you, man, we really do. Moving on. Quickly.
Cristina and Burke kick off their storyline with yet more domestic disturbances. Burke, as taught by his southern mama, is a bit of an amateur cook, so spends some time making breakfast for his live-in lady love. Cristina's not having it, though, literally, and only musters up the pouring of some coffee. Come on, kids, make it work!
Back at Seattle Grace, the once-and-hopefully-future baby mama gets assigned to a jailbird who attempted suicide, sort of but not really. Hey, it's the least crazy Arquette! She just so happened to have swallowed four razorblades in an attempt to get taken out of solitary confinement. Only problem is the razors have caused multiple infections after, you know, cutting up her insides. Go figure. Who'd've thought that would happen? Oh, that's right. Everyone.
After successful surgical removal, and the rebuffing of several advances at conversing from Cristina, the multiple murderer goes ahead and swallows a broken lightbulb. Yeah, we'd say she's got some issues. The removal of the bulb goes swimmingly as well, and Cristina opens up that cold, clamped heart of hers a bit and tells her she may have to stay in the hospital for two weeks (instead of the requisite one) to recover. That's all she wanted. Just a little more human interaction.
Dr. and Mrs. McDreamy are back in fine form, with the wifey trying to talk her hubby into selling his white trash paradise, the unidentified-yet-ferryboat-accessible island trailer park. Meredith, under the false and presumptuous (to Seattlest, anyway) impression that the couple's living whereabouts are any of her business, takes issue with the move. She asks McDreamy if he's really moving, if he's really changing, and he assures her, for some reason, that he's not.
Addison, meanwhile, decides she's going to teach Izzie an important lesson in distancing herself from her patients, important, she tells the Chief, because Izzie is the most promising intern she's seen in years and this lesson could make her the best. Plus, Addison is sort of a beeyotch.
After realizing, mid-surgery, that one of the quints has no chance at making it through the night, she assigns Izzie to watch over her and make sure that she, well, makes it through the night. A fool's mission! Izzie does everything she can, but wakes to find that the baby has died on her watch. She finds Mrs. McDreamy, who consoles her and then tells her of the 0% likelihood that the babe would survive. Izzie is furious and sad and apparently, did not appreciate her sensei's lesson. She storms off.
Before this, though, she walked in on Meredith trying to help out Alex with a solution to that patient he almost killed. You know, when he administered the wrong dosage and fried the guy's brain? Which, by the way, McDreamy is being a bit of an ass about. Really, you almost kill a guy, or at the very least, permanently damage him, and this is the treatment you get? Well. Anyway, Izzie walks in on this attempt at goodwill and can't believe what she's seeing. Meredith has broken the code! The sacred universal girl code wherein if one girl's almost-boyfriend cheats on her, he is chastised by womankind forever! How dare she?! Well, Izzie, maybe if you referred to it as the almost-middle-aged-woman code, she'd adhere a bit stronger in the future. Thirty-six. We're just sayin'.
Izzie, again, storms off, but not before calling Meredith something of a slut. Later in the locker room, Georgie, Cristina and Meredith come to her aid, consoling her on the quints' death. Izzie says that telling her she's better off without Alex isn't supportive, it's condescending. You tell 'em, Iz! And that after all she's done to be there for the three of them, not one of them lent her a shoulder. Meredith gets an idea, though, and seems to patch things up by taking Izzie to the pound (PAWS?) and picking up a new four-legged friend for her hurtin' pal. Now, Seattlest has always been more of a cat person, but we like the intention, so we'll let the pet preference slide, and simply say, aww. Friendship redemption successful. And Izzie apologizes for calling Meredith a whore. So all's well that ends well.
The episode ties up all its loose strings with McDreamy making amends with Alex by telling him about the first guy he killed. Um, heartwearming? Alex stays by the patient's side, though, cause he says no one should die alone. Yeah. Particularly if you're responsible for the death. Cristina goes home and actually eats what Burke cooks for her, eliciting one of the cutest smiles ever from the good doctor.
Meredith ends the episode by mincing some very poetic words from the English poet John Donne, mumbling something about how "no man is an island" She says that all this means is that everyone just needs someone to step in, to play with, run around with, or just hang out.
It's a good thing she's a surgeon, really, cause we don't anticipate the UW English Department to come calling anytime soon.
