High-speed rollover, sucking chest wound.
No breath sounds right, lower lobe,
- occlusive dressing's on, and B.P.'s holding. - I need a chest tube,
local anesthetic, and some hands.
Unidentified white female, passenger side,
ejected from the car.
- Dr. Robidaux. - I'm on it.
Unresponsive to pain. Bleeding from both nares.
One, two, three.
- Is she dead? - Sir?
That's my wife. Please don't let her be dead.
Look, sir, please don't talk. Let me save you first.
- Pulse 100, B.P. 160, breathing at 30 on her own. - Ellen!
- Shallow and rapid. - Let's put him out.
- One, two, three. - Let's get a line in.
O2 sat is 90, and she's on full blast.
- She is not oxygenating enough. - Check her mouth?
Twice.
She probably stopped breathing before they could.
The lungs are good. Get me a bag mask.
- Suction is set up and ready to go. - Get respiratory.
Have them get a ventilator ready.
- I think they were tied up in room 3 with the... - Come on.
- She's up to 98%, but... - All right. Let's intubate her.
- Are you sure the lungs haven't collapsed? - Yes, give me a Mac-3.
We need blood gasses and labs. Who's got the I-stat?
I need suction. I can't see anything.
Once I get the tube in, I can help.
She's at sinus tach. Sat's down to 70%.
- What? - I'm just the messenger.
Get in there.
She might need amiodarone or vasopressin.
Be sure it's right. 65%. Lips are cyanotic.
Okay, let's get her O2 sat back up,
then we'll try again. We've got to get her tubed.
23-year-old male found seizing in the street... tonic-clonic.
Call somebody from neuro. Robidaux, talk to me.
I'm having a little trouble intubating.
- Get somebody from anesthesia. Is she conscious? - No.
Keep bagging her. Put some fluids in her.
You might have to trach her.
- Will you get me a trach? - I can't feel her lungs.
Her numbers aren't improving.
Okay. I'm gonna give it another try.
She doesn't have any pedal pulses.
She's not perfusing.
Damn it! Trach kit, and I need more light.
- She's not getting air. - I can see that.
Suction. More suction. I can't see anything.
What the hell? I'm getting resistance.
Okay, let's trach her.
Scalpel, and I need more light.
- I can't find her cartilage. - The bony little...
I know what it is. I can't find it through the fat.
You're losing time. You got to get in there.
- Vein. - Pressure.
I got it. I got it. Stevens. Hold that.
Suction, suction, suction, suction.
She's been more than three minutes without...
I can count.
Heart rate's dropping... 47 and having some P.V.Cs.
- O2 sat's 60. - I am aware.
Okay, I can see the thyroid cartilage.
I am going blind here with all this blood.
Push until you feel the cricothyroid.
- I got it. - Hard, rigid?
- Yep. - I've got the defib standing by in case.
I'm in. I'm in. Tube.
- Oh, damn it. It's blocked. - No, that can't be. Twist the damn thing.
Now I am in! Ambu bag.
Turn the oxygen up to 100%.
Thank God. That was close.
Air's escaping.
Her lungs still aren't expanding.
- Still no breath sound. - Out of my way.
Gloves. What a mess.
I'm not sure you were in the right spot.
Get me more tubing. I can't suction that.
I need more hands.
Bradycardia rate of 20. B.P. 40, systolic.
Should I try I.V.?
She needs oxygen.
- She's gonna arrest. - O2 sat is falling more.
- We need to oxygenate. - She's not moving any air.
- She's crashing. - Asystole!
We're gonna need to shock her.
I'm gonna go back in from above.
- Should we try epi? - She won't respond if she's not oxygenated.
We lost her.
No, come on. Come on.
She's gone.
Mark the time.
I'm in! I'm in!
What the... ?
Pediatric tube...
got in through the vocal cords.
- I'll be damned. - Ha!
Remind me to give you a big hug later.
An M.R.I.? To diagnose some facial pain?
My sense is it could be trigeminal neuralgia,
or there could be something
applying pressure on the nerve itself.
But an M.R.I. could give us the answer.
Ahh, Harding Hooten.
Oh, no. Does this mean I'm really sick?
Oh, well, you certainly don't look it.
Uh, you two know each other?
- May I reveal? - You may go for it.
She's a perfectly horrible Judge.
I once appeared in front of a judiciary panel
as a proponent of physician-assisted suicide,
and Judge Beverly Natheson revealed
an affinity for rectal reconstruction.
I tore him a new one.
You'll be happy to know I'm now for that law.
Really? What happened, pray tell?
Parkinson's... to my mom.
This gentleman wants to subject me to deadly radiation.
Will you please just reassure me
that this is not occasioned by your long-standing grudge?
If I bore a grudge, I'd recommend a root canal.
- What's the problem? - Trigeminal neuralgia.
I'm a good listener.
Mr. Wells?
Can you hear me, Mr. Wells?
Can you hear?
Where am I?
Hospital. Convulsion in street.
I'm in a hospital?
Yes, place they bring when have seizure.
Grand mal... you have before?
Um... yeah.
Is, uh... is my mother here?
Not now.
Well, if she shows up, don't tell her where I am.
Hey. I got paged, but I see you...
Dr. Ridgeway, neurosurgeon. I'm Dr. Sung Park.
- Hi. - Hi.
What's, uh...
Why...
I'm a writer. I had no paper.
Wow.
You're certainly looking better.
Well, thanks to you, I'm told.
Are y... you the one that saved my life?
Oh, there were a lot of people in on that.
Well, they told us it was the pretty brunette.
This is my husband, George married 22 years tomorrow.
We were on our way to the wine country
when he rolled the car over.
We don't know how to thank you.
For a while, you both had us a little scared.
I know. I heard that you couldn't find the cartilage
or bone or something because my neck was too fat.
- Well... - Well, I'm taking it like an omen to lose weight.
So you not only saved my life, you maybe extended it.
You're my guardian angel. That's what you are.
He said you had him locked up like a prisoner.
Not like a prisoner... like a mental patient,
which is what he is.
I mean, look at him for God's sake.
He was covered with...
Has he ever been seen by a doctor, by a psychiatrist?
He's been seen by 10.
They ruled out bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
When did this obsession begin?
Senior year in high school.
He started writing stories, then blogging.
He's a good writer, by the way.
Content is not his problem.
uh, novellas, short stories, poems...
but every other aspect of his life became dysfunctional.
He had to leave college because he couldn't even attempt,
much less satisfy, his distribution requirements.
He can't hold a job.
So, I took away his computer, then I took away his paper.
I thought I had taken away all of the pens,
but clearly I didn't.
So you kept him locked in his room.
Since Saturday... yes.
I thought if maybe I could pull off
some kind of half-assed intervention...
but he broke out last night, ran away... naked...
had a seizure, and here we are.
I want to show you something.
Look at this.
This is the only paper that he had access to.
There's two more rolls just like that.
Then he went to the walls, and then...
he went to his own body.
Bingo. Right on the trigeminal nerve.
Probably schwannoma.
- In any event, it's got to come out. - Looks simple enough.
Well, to add to the excitement, if you want some pressure,
should you Google this woman, you'll find her name on a list
of potential supreme court nominees.
Really?
This is some judge, and that is some brain.
- A mass. - It appears to be a tumor, and that's what's applying
the pressure that's causing your pain.
- Is it cancerous? - Hopefully not.
We can't confirm whether it is or it isn't
until we get access and we take a biopsy.
At this stage, it doesn't appear to be,
but we need to operate.
How long will the recovery take?
- I mean, I've... - We know, Judge... places to go.
Four to six weeks, depending on how you're feeling.
And the recovery would be complete.
Meaning will you be able to resume
your proctology career on the bench?
We believe so.
Plus you'll be in excellent hands... his.
And I'll be right there beside him.
- Hey. - Have a seat.
First of all, congratulations.
Here you go.
I'm still on duty.
No, you're not. As of now, you're off-duty.
I... I haven't hit my 24-hour max yet.
You saved a woman's life.
The high you must be going on... you're off-duty.
- You meditate? - No.
Okay, well, I'm gonna give you a little crash course.
I want you to take a healthy swig,
but don't swallow.
Just hold the beer in your mouth.
Do it.
- I really... - Do it.
Mm-hmm.
Now close your eyes.
Now, I want you to imagine that the beer is life itself.
When I tell you to swallow, I want you to feel it
going down your throat, then into your blood,
your extremities.
I want you to feel life itself flowing right through you.
Experience the sensations transporting energy
into every vein and organ.
Now count to three, then do it.
Wow.
I like that.
It works... meditation. You should do it.
Now, for my money, you saved the day,
but the stressors were working a little too hard.
Panic and judgment aren't good bedmates.
Next time, you need to be breathing yourself some.
It's not just about giving air to the patient.
Okay.
The E.R. has a certain order and calm to it...
it has to...
and first and foremost, it starts with the doctor.
Got it.
Yeah.
And last, but not least, I owe you a hug.
I know what I have, ok?
It's called hypergraphia... the opposite of writer's block.
He's very smart.
But not demented.
Demented would be locking somebody in a room
- and boarding the windows. - Oh, for God's sake,
you were writing on your toilet paper.
Let me save you some time. Hypergraphia...
the compulsion to write...
usually associated with temporal-lobe epilepsy,
which is likely what I have,
since once in a blue moon, I throw a seizure,
usually brought on by little annoyances of life,
like being falsely imprisoned by your own mother.
I have tried meds.
They make me not want to write at all,
which is unacceptable.
I am a writer. It is what I do.
If I cannot write, I am dead.
Now can I go?
Want to test.
Forget the test!
- Derrick. - Don't handle me!
I'm not about to do that.
You're already doing it with tone.
Clearly, you have a master's of bedside.
You... not so much. I know what I have.
I'm messed up, but here's a flash...
the best writers are... Hemingway, Faulkner,
Bill O'Reilly.
Want to test.
I do not consent.
No matter. Not competent.
Schedule test.
Hello. My name is Fran Horowitz.
I'm with, uh... I handle client services.
First off, congratulations to you both
on your respective survivals.
Doesn't always happen here.
Little hospital humor.
I have news. Channel 5 out of Portland
got wind of your story... your anniversary and all...
and they're asking if they could film a short segment.
On us?
It would be totally up to you, of course.
- Really? - Yes, yes, yes, yes. We'll do it.
Maybe we could have a little anniversary party,
and they could film it.
That would probably delight them.
Hello. Fran Horowitz.
They'd love to speak to you, as well.
Oh, I don't know.
It would be great for the hospital.
Maximizing profile translates to better fundraising. Cha-ching!
Yes, uh, I'm kind of modest when it comes to horn-blowing.
Oh, if I could be so bold...
um, people get fired here all the time,
though I certainly wouldn't expect that to happen to you,
but should it, it might be nice
to bank a little good publicity for a rainy day.
It's just a thought. Hmm.
Pretty extensive white-matter changes.
She's only 59.
Grasping forceps.
Okay.
Ah. That's weird.
It doesn't look like a schwannoma.
Not a meningioma or a glioma.
- Granuloma? - Could be.
No sign of T.B., though.
- Pathology's got to run that. - Okay.
Strange growth. Diffuse white-matter changes.
That could be aging.
Ty... did you run an RPR?
Hey.
Have tone, will travel.
Finally got mom to go home.
I guess I can't ask the same of you.
Nope.
Can I read it when you're done.
Why not? It's about surgeons.
It's called "When in doubt, cut it out."
Catchy.
First, we don't know if there is anything to cut out.
But we'd be crazy not to take a look.
Crazy works for me.
Derrick...
I've read "Madman and the Professor."
I loved it,
but the madman was not a happy camper.
What are you afraid of?
I told you.
You didn't, actually.
Maybe you just wrote it down.
Let's say you find something,
you fix it... you change who I am...
what I am.
If you have obsessions, fine.
Many people do, including a lot of surgeons.
But if the obsession has you, that's a problem.
You're not winning the battle here, Derrick.
How are you doing?
You tell me.
Well, we've resected the mass,
and the good news is it wasn't a tumor.
Noncancerous.
You're going to be fine.
And yet that doesn't quite ring of happily ever after.
You have tertiary syphilis...
late stage.
You probably contracted it many moons ago... 30, 40 years.
What?
How can that be?
Well, you were probably asymptomatic,
experiencing only internal lesions.
It went undiagnosed.
Am I contagious?
No. No, you haven't been for a very long time.
I was only with my husband.
Well, he probably contracted it before or during the marriage.
And since you didn't have any children,
it's possible it went undetected.
So, what's the prognosis?
Typically, it's accompanied by some brain damage,
but we fully resected the mass,
and since we've started you on the penicillin,
we're confident that we've stopped any further progression.
Now, have you noticed any decline
either in acuity or ability to concentrate?
Who hasn't at my age?
So, what are you telling me here?
The damage that's been done...
it could go on, it could progress?
No, we've caught it now. I'm confident not.
But can I give you a guarantee?
Oh, God.
I was monogamous with my husband for 27 years.
And before that?
Before that, I was young.
Okay, let's get right to the festivities, shall we Dr. Robidaux,
please, would you join us as our celebrated guest of honor?
Adulation well earned, I have to say.
News has traveled fast
regarding your life-saving heroics...
threading a pediatric tube
through a gasping patient's vocal cord.
Talk us through the excitement, doctor, would you?
Uh, Ellen Coolidge... the 42-year-old female
brought in unconscious following a vehicular rollover.
She was unresponsive to pain. Her pulse was 100 and dropping.
Her O2 sat was 90 on 100%.
A decision was made to intubate her
after we ascertained that her lungs were okay.
And how did that intubation go?
Terribly at first.
I couldn't visualize her cords,
and due to her girth, the tube wouldn't pass.
She started turning cyanotic,
so I decided to bag her to get her O2 sat back up.
A decision was then made
to perform an emergency tracheostomy.
That decision was made by you?
- Dr. Villanueva, actually. - Oh. Was he there?
He was treating the husband nearby.
Ah. Continue, please.
Uh, I proceeded to do the trach,
only I couldn't locate her cartilage,
- again, due to her weight. - And for how long
had the patient been without oxygen by this time?
Almost three minutes.
Three minutes? My, my.
At four minutes, she would have suffered permanent brain damage.
Sounds like it was getting a little hairy.
Go on.
I made a left-to-right swipe.
- I hit a vein. Blood started... - You hit a vein?
Which we pinched off pretty quickly.
Uh, finally, I located her cricothyroid
- and got in, and we then tubed her... - Splendid.
Only it was blocked.
Dr. Villanueva then came over to assist.
She went into asystole.
He started performing chest compressions.
Finally, I got the pediatric tube in,
and she normalized, thank God.
- That was a close call. - Very close.
- And how's the patient doing now? - She's fine.
She's celebrating her 22nd wedding anniversary.
Yes, I bet she's very grateful.
- She seems so, yes. - Hmm.
Yes, I hear she refers to you as her guardian angel.
That must be a warm feeling...
performing a life-saving tracheostomy,
and they don't always go that well.
Trust me, I know from my own experience.
Tell me, doctor, from your experience,
do they usually go that well?
Uh, well, this was my first one.
Your very first one, you say?
Uh, I've assisted on some...
In emergency situations?
No, never in an emergency, before now.
Wow.
Your very first emergency tracheostomy,
and things went well.
Good for you.
Why did you make a left-to-right incision in her throat?
If you'd made a vertical incision,
you might have missed hitting her blood vessel, no?
Well, it's a small mistake, I suppose.
As you say, this was your very first emergency trach.
Well, then it's possible that's why
your cricothyroidectomy was unsuccessful
and possibly why you couldn't find the cartilage
and why you were having trouble intubating,
which deprived the patient of air
for something like three minutes.
- Did you ask for help? - Everyone was preoccupied.
You didn't even call for help?
You couldn't get the bloody tube in,
you nicked a vein,
your patient was circling the drain,
and you couldn't even bother to ask for help.
- I came over. - Yes, to her rescue.
Are you coming to her rescue now, Gato?
By the time you arrived,
the patient was in full cardiac arrest.
You saved the day, Dr. Robidaux,
but not before very nearly losing it.
Still, no matter.
As you say,
the patient is eating cake, ice cream,
delightfully enjoying her satisfactory outcome.
Perhaps she's not even aware
that because of her prolonged deprivation of oxygen,
she might be just a wee bit less smart.
She'll think nothing of struggling
with Wednesday's crossword in the New York Times,
whereas before, she would have breezed through Thursday's.
We tested her. Mentally, she's fine.
So she seems, and perhaps she is.
Or she may have lost a tick.
See, these are the minor mishaps that we never get called on.
Somebody dies, we get sued.
Leave a pair of forceps inside a patient,
cut off the wrong leg, puncture an aortic valve...
for those catastrophic gaffes, we are surely held accountable,
but it's these little errors that we make...
the ones that are way more prevalent.
We get away with those mistakes, don't we?
Nobody's any the wiser.
Sometimes they're the dumber.
Imagine, Ellen Coolidge is in her room eating cake,
thanking her lucky stars with no idea
that her guardian angel very nearly killed her.
Harding. It wasn't her fault.
No.
It was mine, and it was yours.
This was not Chelsea General's best work.
A woman comes to our E.R.,
we should at least be able to proffer a doctor
who is capable of performing a tracheostomy.
Or failing that, one who is adept at intubating.
Or failing that,
one who can at least find the thyroid cartilage.
Or failing that,
one who might not improperly slit her throat.
This was shoddy, shoddy work,
and the fact that we got away with it
doesn't make it any less inexcusable.
You know, I have a niece, lovely girl...
she reminds me a little bit of you, Dr. Robidaux.
She was recently fired
from her waitressing job at the Ritz-Carlton.
She set a table incorrectly.
The knife and the fork were in the wrong place or some such thing.
The ritz-Carlton doesn't even countenance mistakes like that.
Count yourself lucky that you work in a hospital
- and that you're a surgeon. - That's enough.
I am not a bad doctor, and you know it.
Indeed... but my role here
isn't simply to prevent the bad doctors from killing patients.
It's to keep the good ones from doing so.
Lesion... right there.
Take out.
What does it involve?
Anterior temporal resection.
Remove bad. Leave good.
And compulsive writing...
do we categorize that as the good or the bad?
It likely go with lesion.
The good news is it's not near the eloquent area.
You'll still be able to think clearly,
live a healthy, normal life.
I'm gonna pass.
You can't pass.
With each seizure, you could suffer worse...
more cognitive or intellectual damage.
This could even kill you.
I understand.
I'm gonna pass.
Derrick, I know...
My creativity is who I am.
This is who I am.
I'm not having surgery.
You need to appreciate that this is potentially a fatal...
You're not gonna lobotomize me away.
We're not talking about a lobotomy.
No!
You think you could have offered something?
"Not do, dead"... I mean, any number of your pearls
might have come in handy just now.
Instead, you just sit there? Really?
Write good.
Good writer.
You know I'm on a short list to be a Supreme Court Justice.
Your Honor, it was only three years ago
that you had your socratic way with me before that commission.
It seems to me your pistons are firing
on more than enough cylinders.
Is that all that was bothering you...
your chances of making it to the high court?
Suppose that I'm asked by a general judicial panel,
"are you at any risk for cognitive decline?"
First of all, they're highly unlikely to ask you that.
And second, we all run that risk. It's called getting older.
And I could be wrong,
but if there's one place to thrive
while getting decrepitly old, the Supreme Court would be it.
I feel...
damaged...
ashamed.
The Honorable Judge Beverly Natheson.
Your Honor, do you really mean to beat yourself up
for something that happened several lifetimes ago?
Not go medical school make house call.
I really don't care, Sung. You're coming with me.
You basically let a guy leave with a time bomb in his head,
so now it's incumbent on us to bring him.
- Ah, talk gibblish. - The word would be "gibberish."
The idea of us making a house call is anything but.
That lesion needs to be addressed surgically,
and know know it, which means you better say the right thing,
if not for the sake of the patient's health,
then at least your own malpractice premium,
let alone your right to contin...
Poopy kook.
"Poppycock."
Hey. You knew it was coming.
That's why you gave me the beer, the... the hug...
to buoy me because you knew what was coming.
I didn't know for sure. I had a hunch.
Look, you're a resident.
You were in an emergency situation.
Bottom line... you saved a woman's life.
Yeah, after nearly killing her?
Harding knows you're a good doctor.
Did he say that?
He didn't have to. You're still here.
He's been in there ever since he got back...
with his computer.
I figured better that than the Charmin.
Any seizures?
Um, no, not that I know of.
Although, he has had some of those aura things.
I don't expect him to be thrilled to see you,
but something tells me that you don't really care.
Derrick?
Derrick, we have guests.
Derrick.
The procedure will not necessarily
eradicate your creativity.
It's extremely dangerous
to let temporal-lobe epilepsy go untreated.
- What if it does? - I'm sorry?
What if it does eradicate my creativity?
Do you want to die? Because...
Look, I already told you...
Sung, can you help me, please?
Dr. Park.
You no drive.
You no swim. No mountain-climb. No sky-dive.
I don't do those things. I write.
We see how goes.
Seizures get worse, prescribe new medication.
If not, in meantime...
In meantime, what?
In meantime...
write.
Last night, a robbery occurred at the Four and Twenty market,
and that would make this the fifth small business
targeted in the last three months.
Channel 4 news reported last night
that a man dressed all in black...
Word is you've requested an early checkout.
I don't like your wine selection.
A decent Pinot, I might reconsider.
Well, I'll be sure to send you a bottle.
We need to keep you in for at least another day.
You've had brain surgery.
I wish I'd been as hospitable to you
when you appeared before me.
You don't mean that.
So thanks.
Meanwhile, we are getting Judge Beverly Natheson
has been diagnosed with an advanced case of syphilis.
As you may recall, Judge Natheson has been rumored
to be among a handful of jurists under consideration
to replace either Supreme Court Justice Kennedy,
Scalia, Ginsburg, or Breyer... all of whom are in their 70s,
any of whom may soon leave a vacancy on the bench.
Beverly Natheson is known as being a judge...
Well, what's your best guess this time?
News is out about that judge.
It has to be a confidentiality breach.
He hates that.
Here he comes.
Okay, here we go.
This could get ugly.
Dr. Park, please stand. You're the opening act.
Oh, I said just stand. You can do theater in the round.
Tell us about Derrick Wells.
20-year-old male. Temporal-lobe epilepsy.
- Treatable? - Yes. Surgery.
- He decline. - Hmm.
That's quite a brave decision, isn't it?
Declining a potentially life-saving procedure?
I bet that was quite a lonely decision, as well.
Was he alone in making that decision, Dr. Park?
- I support. - You support?
Writer want write.
Surgery possible take away creativity.
Oh, I get it. "Writer want write."
"Surgery possible take away creativity."
Hmm. Comments, anyone?
Well, humor me, Dr. Park.
You know, I rather like these delicious little details.
For example, I might like some sense
of the patient's mental competence,
should he decline treatment for a potentially fatal disease.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had a real nutjob
on our hands, somebody so compulsive
he writes manuscripts on toilet paper,
on the walls, even on his own body.
Seems to me a person like that might need some proper steering.
I should like to think the doctors here
at Chelsea General might steer him towards life.
- He's in a mood. - Something to say, Dr. Napur?!
This young man suffers
from a very serious mental disorder,
so much so he is a threat to his own well-being,
and you blithely sugges...
Not threat self. Not threat others.
He suffers from epilepsy. He has a lesion.
Charles Dickens have epilepsy. Dostoyevsky have epilepsy.
Oh, so now you think that just...
Lewis Carroll, Edgar Allan Poe,
Lord Byron all suffer epilepsy.
You want do procedure on Dickens?
You want snip-snip Dostoyevsky? Vincent Van Gogh?
Yeah, I believe Van Gogh was a self-snipper.
Picasso, Michelangelo...
gGreat art, epilepsy, hand-in-hand.
Derrick Wells want to write. That purpose. That essence.
Who me to say no? Who you?
Who you?
Me chief of staff.
You lecture us weeks ago...
"See whole, not just body parts. See whole."
I look at Derrick Wells whole.
He a writer.
Let be.
Dr. Wilson...
do you have an opinion?
- Me? - Yes.
Seems to me you might quite like to share.
You seem to me like a sharer of sorts.
I have no idea where you're going with this.
Please stand, Dr. Wilson.
Uh, you may sit, Dr. Park.
Dr. Wilson, you and I treated a patient with syphilis,
and that little nugget is now being featured
prominently in media outlets nationwide.
With whom did we share this diagnosis, doctor?
Are you kidding me?
Who did you tell, Dr. Wilson?
Many people here had access.
Yes, and I intend to question every single one of them.
But I'm starting with you. Who did you tell?
I only discussed it with colleagues.
- That would be me and who else? - Radiology, pathology.
How about Dr. Ridgeway? Did you discuss it with her?
Yes, it's an extremely rare case, and I...
So why not talk about it with your girlfriend?
That's out of line. This was a cerebral gumma...
neurosyphilis. We should all be talking...
This is a prominent Judge who could do very well
without the stigma of syphilis hanging over her.
And you really think somebody in this room
- put out that information? - It got out, Dr. Ridgeway!
These walls are supposed to be sealed, and it got out.
Come on, Harding!
The idea of medical confidentiality
in the 21st cyber-century?
Tort lawyers have Chelsea General employees on their payroll.
Mitch Tompkins files wrongful-death suits
before patients even flatline.
This is systemic.
Which only compounds my problem.
As a matter of course, this patient's information
would have been shared with upwards of 100 people in this building alone,
not to mention outside this building.
Between outsource labs, billing, transcripts,
insurance... add another 100.
Not to mention electronic records are hackable, stealable.
You know what we should be doing?
We should be putting up a big sign on the door
that says, "Privacy is dead. Get over it."
Well, thank you for your considered input, Dr. Napur.
You seem so well-informed on the subject,
I'm gonna put you in charge of a special task force
to address our newfound privacy concerns.
I will expect a detailed analysis
and a full list of specific recommendations within 30 days.
Come on. I hardly have the time.
Well, then you shouldn't have opened your mouth.
Or, perhaps as Dr. Park put it,
that's your essence, your purpose.
30 days.
Fee-fi-fo-fum!
You want me to do an insectomy...
get that giant bug up your ass?
If I find that leak,
I'm gonna get that bug and step on it.
Harding, with all the lab reports...
No, no, she was listed under a pseudonym.
Not with the department of public health, she wasn't,
where we had a duty to report her real name.
Look, man, in this digital world we live in,
even if privacy does exist, which I seriously doubt,
expectation of privacy. You can forget it.
Well, this needs to be fixed, and it will be.
You were pretty rough on Robidaux.
Oh, she'll thank me one day.
Don't wait for it.
Look, man...
we had multiple bodies in the E.R.
I should have had more people.
My bad.
I bet you hugged her.
- Say what? - Yeah.
You likely suspected
I was gonna go off on Michelle Robidaux,
so you braced her for impact
with one of your insipid little half nelsons.
- You did, didn't you? - Man, you out of your mind!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you hugged her.
- You're pathetic. - Man, drink your scotch.
So, you gave her a squeeze, made her feel better.
Well, actually, I was thinking about my ex-wife.
- Yeah? - Yep.
I used to wear my wedding ring on the wrong finger.
We ran into some difficulties trying to clear her airway.
But ultimately, we were able to thread a pediatric tube in
through her vocal cords, which got her breathing again.
You mean you were able to get her breathing again?
Oh, I was only a small cog in the machine.
Everyone in that E.R. was working tirelessly
to save Mr. and Mrs. Coolidge.
Accidents happen... that's why we have hospitals,
and Chelsea General happens to be one of the best.
We all feel fortunate that we were in a position to save...
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