There are two ways a person can leave Grey’s Anatomy. Best-case scenario, you’re sent to the equivalent of a farm upstate (a.k.a., another hospital somewhere like, say, Tacoma). Otherwise, you’re liable to get massacred in front of our faces, Old Yeller style. This season, we may just get both.
We’ve known for a while that Levi Schmitt and Mika Yasuda are headed for the door, and now both of their exits are beginning to take shape. Let’s start with Schmitt, who has spent most of this season agonizing over which specialty to pick, even though it’s peds — obviously peds. Last we saw him, he was rescuing a girl from certain death (and from losing her leg) in a helicopter during a terrible storm. Now, he’s contemplating a move to Texas after Dr. Beltran floated his name for a research gig. There’s much to consider here: Will he like the research enough to abandon the rush of surgery for a little while? Is he really willing to uproot his life and, presumably, abandon his budding romance with Hot Chaplain James for a temporary position that might not even lead to a long-term pediatric-surgery job? Will he even like Tex-Mex?
I have to pause here for just a moment to ask, Are there really full-grown adults in this country who’ve never tried Tex-Mex? I mean, sure, not everyone’s been to Texas, but come on! The stuff is everywhere??? Also, and more important, assuming you eat meat (because a lot of Tex-Mex does involve dead animals), what’s not to like?
Anyway, Webber and Bailey are determined to keep Schmitt, so they offer him a little treat to distract from all that delicious potential: a position at Grey Sloan as a general-surgery attending, starting … [checks watch] how about right now? Not long after Schmitt’s bosses are searching his face for signs that he’s ecstatic, his first big case wheels in. A couple has been injured at an air-guitar concert (yes, seriously) where the air-guitar hero climbed the scaffolding during a performance then fell onto his girlfriend in the crowd. As one might imagine, the words Please don’t tell my parents soon follow. As embarrassing as it may be for Joni’s parents to see their daughter besotted with an air guitarist named Van Vaughn Bishop (yes, seriously), the real mortifying detail to highlight here is that everyone calls it just “air,” which somehow makes it exponentially worse. Luckily for them, she mostly spends the episode high on painkillers and the power of love and will go home with a fractured hip and not much more.
Vaughn’s condition is more serious because he has been impaled by the scaffolding. Thank God, his BFF, Gish, stays by his side to keep his spirits up. (I’d make fun of the name Gish, but instead I choose to believe this kid simply has great taste in music and has named himself after a Smashing Pumpkins album.) Vaughn is Schmitt’s first patient as an attending, and he absolutely crushes it. Not only does he get the giant pole out of Vaughn without incident — he even manages to save his kidney. As Billy Corgan himself might say, the impossible is possible tonight, tonight! Schmitt is high off his triumph and tells James there might be just enough to do at Grey Sloan to keep the dreams of peds at bay, but then he runs into that little girl whose life he saved in the helicopter. She flashes him a very cute little-kid smile and tells him she’ll never forget him … and just like that, you can practically smell the chili con carne bubbling. There’s no way Schmitt’s passing up the chance to work in peds.
This is a real bummer for Schmitt’s BFF, Helm, who cries even as Schmitt promises to FaceTime during their favorite trash-TV shows. (Relatable.) But just as I was starting to get emotional, she said something so absurd I practically choked on an Oreo: “Well, I’m easy. Think about how hard it’ll be to tell James.”
James? James? I’m sorry, but THIS is the big good-bye. Sure, he’s hot, but really, who cares about James?! Schmitt only just met him, like, a few weeks ago! You, Helm, are his best friend, his confidant, his person! We didn’t see it this week, but I swear to God, if this show tries to convince me next week that James is a tougher good-bye than Helm, I’m going to show up at the writers’ room and staple a list of 95 grievances to the door.
Aaaaaanyway, on to a lighter subject: Owen and Teddy’s sex schedule. They’re as enthusiastic about it as one might expect. Cue the entrance of one Sophia Bush, who joins the cast in the recurring role of Dr. Cass Beckman. Based on her opening moves, I’m guessing Owen’s gonna hate her guts forever, and for that, I love her dearly. Protect her at all costs — anyone who pisses off Grey Sloan’s most insufferable doctor is a good friend of mine.
You see, Owen and Teddy are out for dinner with Beckman and her husband, David, when Owen and David get called back to work. (Typical.) This leaves Teddy and Cass out on the town for a night of fun. After some light patter and a more serious chat about Teddy and Owen’s decrepit love life and Cass and David’s open marriage, we get a record-scratch moment when Cass kisses Teddy. On the mouth! Unprompted and unscheduled. There’s more heat in this awkward kiss than we’ve seen between Teddy and Owen in weeks, but still, Teddy plays the good wife and tells Beckman that her marriage with David may be open but that her own with Owen is “very closed.” To that, I say, sure, but really, does it have to be?
Just kidding. Of course it does because the only thing Owen loves more than trauma surgery is being a controlling, jealous little gremlin. I don’t care if Teddy once cheated on him. He’s annoying, and I’ll never be on his side in an argument. Case in point: When Teddy tells Owen what happened with Cass, he immediately demands to know how Cass got the wrong idea: “Two minutes ago, I was asleep, and now you’re telling me that some woman kissed you?” Well, yes, Owen, someone had to! But sure, go do rounds and run away from the problem. I’m sure that’ll do wonders for your ailing marriage.
Also struggling are Jo and Link, whose passion is crumbling as they struggle to balance their demanding careers with child care. Jo is feeling immense guilt for not being the supermom who makes cute little sandwiches for her adopted daughter, Luna, and Link is struggling to understand why she’s taking it out on him while they argue about phone chargers. Just imagine how much better things will get when their twins arrive! Luna, honey, can you say “domestic bliss”? Unlike Teddy and Owen, I think these two are going to be just fine. At least they’ve got a great support system in Amelia, who plays the saintly ex and comes over to remind Jo that Link has been in love with her for, like, ever, so no matter how afraid she is, they’ll make it through the storm. Right now, though, things are rough, and Link does not like that Jo’s afraid he’ll leave her just like all those other people in her life did. That frustration is understandable, but hey, so is complex trauma. Look it up, Link — that fear has nothing to do with you!
You know who’s not struggling to keep the spark alive? Griffith, who accidentally drops an “I love you” on Adams in the middle of the workday. Kwan will never let her hear the end of it, and of course she spends the day spiraling when Adams leaves her hanging, but ultimately, Griffith and Adams kiss and make up in the on-call room, where he returns her “I love you” as he runs out the door for a surgery. But really, my question here is this: Do doctors really sleep shirtless in the on-call room? I understand we’re all medical professionals here, but this is a workplace, not your house! Whatever, I’m just glad these two are finally enjoying some peace.
If only the same could be said for Mika and Jules. This is where that farm-upstate Old Yeller dichotomy comes back to bite us all in the ass with its rabies-covered teeth. Mika’s back at work and pulling double duty as a caretaker for her baby sister, Chloe, as she undergoes chemo. She desperately needs sleep, but instead she winds up spending hours working a hand crank to push air into long-term patient Darren Riley’s lung because his electric pump malfunctioned and a new one will take hours to arrive. Then she and Jules reconcile after weeks of sad estrangement and desperately want to kiss each other, which they promise to do later when they’re not scrubbed for surgery. And then Mika helps Ndugu give Darren his new lung before driving Chloe home. We can all see where this is going, right?
Was last week’s helicopter-caught-in-a-storm really a red herring designed to make us worry about Schmitt and enhance the shock of Mika’s car crash? It sure feels that way! Next week’s teaser shows the team at Grey Sloan frantically working to save her life, and Jules is beside herself yelling “MIKAAAA!” So things aren’t looking great. It has been a few seasons since a Grey Sloan doctor died (RIP, De Luca), but I’m hoping against hope that’s not the case here. First, because I like Mika, but second, because all of this feels … a little unearned given Mika’s relatively short stay. Please, oh please, just send poor, sweet Mika to the surgery farm upstate, where I can imagine she’ll be chasing her dreams for years to come.
