The Complete Third SeasonDVD - 2015
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This is like the siege of Leningrad, here, trying to starve us out, we're reduced to eating boiled magazines and book paste.
Ah. Welcome to yet another sad, melancholy day on the ward that we all love. Not quite dead, not quite alive. A little of each. Like a teen slumber party, with dying.
It falls upon me to say a few words. We strove to do good, to show compassion by action. Some of us like touching. Others of us do not. A patient said to me, "Thank you for making my death worth dying for," and I say to you, "Thank you for making "my work worth working for."
There's no justice. There is no justice. War criminals die peacefully in their beds. The innocent die of infection.
-Care? When I drive home at night, I drive in the far right lane in case I need to pull over to the shoulder quickly, just in case the panic attack becomes a heart attack. Uh, there are some days I feel like I'm suffering cognitive deficits. The rest of the time, I know that I am. ...
I've been dishonest. I'm in recovery.
I suffer from a hypersexual intimacy disorder. I'm trapped in a swirl of compulsive sexual thoughts and acts. I'm a sex addict, Jenna. Pornography, phone and computer sex, escorts. Some days a blow job from a local hooker does the trick. I objectify others to avoid real relationships. It's a distorted need for dominance and control and an expression of anger at my father. I can't measure up. You were just an object.
-Well, I think that I was more than just an object, Ron. I took advantage of you. I took advantage of our shared passion for medical ethics.
No. I attracted you to me like thousands of women. I allowed you to believe that I was something that you could easily have. Whew. I was 83 days into a 90-day sexual sobriety contract. I thought this would be a safe place, but I slipped.
Things happen at hospitals, infections, you know that.
The five top regrets of the dying actually are, um,
"I wish I hadn't worked so hard,"
"I wish I'd have allowed myself to be happier,"
"I wish I had the courage to express my feelings..."
Fact: Fires and burn rates are only slightly behind falls and poisoning as mortality for the elderly. Kitchens are a danger zone... lonely, forgotten burners, salmonella and listeria lingering on months-old
food, which they then eat.
It's called "No Winter in Los Angeles."
"With joy we hail October showers
"that bring us bright and fragrant flowers
When Santa doth appear,
there is no winter here."
Over-sedation of the elderly is epidemic. I would only prescribe Seroquel to a patient who was a smoking schizoid.
-Yes, and I titrate them down as soon as possible.
Around here, the only thing we titrate up on is caring and friendship.
Yes. We've done several studies on BPA and its estrogenic effects. Hm. It's polyurethane foam furniture that's the culprit.
-Exactly! Ethers leak out. Endocrine disrupters. Two heads, smaller testes.
Yes, it's the shabby, cheaper furniture, so the poor share a disproportionate rate of disease, tragically. Environmental racism.
Look, you have to help us, Di, because we want to get her out of here today.
-Take her against medical advice? Do y'all realize what you're asking?
Unless we do something, she's not gonna make it out of here alive.
-Thank you! If we can get her into boarding care, and get her away from these germs and infections and medical stuff, then she could live! This is an awful place, Denise.
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