(Grey's Anatomy season finale Spoiler Alert.)
Dear Drs. Izzie Stevens and George O'Malley,
You are both dead. I think. I'm not sure. You are both definitely wearing formal attire and bathed in soft-focus glamor lighting. It is confusing and annoying that I don't know if you're dead or not. But the truth is, you have both been dead for years. I don't know why I've stayed with you this long. Lord knows it's been years since either of you has said anything interesting. But dead or not, it's over between us.
After months of chemo and brain surgery, Izzie, you started to regain your short term memory. Everything was looking up, and then you coded. I don't if you are dead or not because the last time they hit you with the defibrillator, your body jumped into the air, and Meridith Grey started voice-of-god narrating over the credits. Will you make yet another miraculous recovery?
George, I call you McDoughy because you are an average looking guy a doughy face and body and you are on a show where the male doctors are called things that start with Mc and end in y. The writers of Grey's Anatomy threw you under the bus. Literally. And just as you were doing something half-way interesting and way out of character — joining the army. Now, you are going into surgery and nobody thinks you are going to live. I do think you'll live because unlike the actress who plays Izzie Stevens, you have not won any Emmys and you do not have a demanding film career.
Regardless of how this turns out, I have to say goodbye to both of you. I am done with you and all the rest of the doctors. I can't endure the trauma any longer. I must sever all ties with Seattle Grace and all of its health care professionals. I will no longer get sucked into medical dramas unless they are happening to people I know personally.
So goodbye Merideth, Christina, Alex, Bailey, McDreamy, McSteamy, and Chief. Everytime you tell me everything's going to be OK, a bus full of teens dies on their way to prom. Or an icicle stabs straight through one of your chests and pins you to the ground. Or a death row murderer wants to donate his organs to a dying child, thus presenting a moral dilemma. I can't handle the weekly trauma. I can't go on living like this.
So dead or not, I'm leaving you all behind. Don't try to persuade me with new graphics, new characters, cliffhanger reveals... Nothing will work. I'm moving on. Glee looks like it's going to be good, and I need to free up the time.
Thank you, doctors, for all of the drama. But if I have to endure brain surgery every week, I can't help but wonder what is wrong with our medical system. Say hi to Addison for me, and if you have to pick between George and Izzie... I guess pick McDoughy, but I won't be around in September to find out.
Love and goodbye,