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Izzie: I'm not gonna be a piece of meat in this hospital while you all fight over who gets to slice me up and then laugh while you do it.
Cristina: Ok, this right here... this is an emotional thing you're having. Which is why you should tell Meredith, or George, or...
Izzie: I'm not telling anybody, so just drop it.
Cristina: No. You're not dumping this on me. You're not dying in my arms. So either you tell them, or I will.
Izzie: I don't even know if I want treatment Cristina. I know too much. I know how violent surgery can be. They're gonna cut into my brain, they're gonna slice open my abdomen, and pull my organs out. And for what? Surgery fails all the time. Derek Shepherd is in the freakin woods right now, because we fail all the time! And even if they do everything right, I have a 5% chance of survival. 5%. Why would I put myself through hell? Run poison through my veins, irradiate my brain, if it's not gonna work anyway?
Cristina: Why did you tell me then? If you don't want my help, and you're not gonna do anything about it... why did you tell me?
Izzie: Just keep your mouth shut, and forget I ever told you anything.