The Hospital Page #3

Wrap him up

and get him down to Pathology.

I'm especially interested in his blood sugar.

A liter of glucose never killed anybody.

Your ladies must have done something else.

- Will there be anything else?

- No.

Before you call the family,

I wish you'd speak to Mr. Mead about this.

We'd like, naturally, to avoid litigation.

A few things have been piling up.

Would you like to go into them?

A quickie.

Dr. Esterhazy wants to start hiring

temporary people...

to cover the summer vacations.

He says, last year,

some of the replacement people...

didn't receive their checks

until they waited six months.

He wonders if you could do something

about getting these people paid promptly.

Ms. Aronivici complains the lab reports

are coming in slow into the ER.

I called Dr. Immelman about that,

and she says three microscopes...

have been stolen out of her lab

in the last two months.

Charlie Walters

also complains about pilferage.

I've clumped all these together for you.

As you know...

we've agreed to take over

the local ambulance cases...

as part of the hospital's commitment

to the community...

and it's created a serious overload in ER.

I don't know why this was dumped

in our lap, but they seem to think...

Find out if Dr. Einorn is in his office.

Which Dr. Einorn?

- Ophthalmology or Psychiatry?

- Psychiatry. Never mind. I'll look in, myself.

Is he in?

- Can I have a minute, Joe?

- Of course.

I've been having periods

of acute depression, recently.

Apparently, it's becoming noticeable.

A number of people have remarked about it.

John Sundstrom thought it might

be a good idea if I spoke to you about it.

- Do you want to sit down?

- No. I'm not good at confessional.

What can I tell you?

The last year, two, three...

It goes way back, I suppose.

I remember entertaining suicidal thoughts

as a college student.

At any rate...

I've always found life demanding.

I'm an only child

of a lower-middle-class people.

I was the glory of my parents.

"My son, the doctor." You know.

I was always top of my class.

Scholarship to Harvard. The boy genius.

The brilliant eccentric.

Terrified of women, clumsy at sports.

God, how do I go about this?

I understand

you just separated from your wife.

I left her a dozen times.

She left me a dozen times.

We stayed through a process of attrition.

Obviously, sadomasochistic dependency.

My home is hell.

We've got a 23-year-old boy.

I threw him out of the house last year.

A shaggy-haired Maoist.

I don't know where he is.

Presumably, building bombs in basements

as an expression of universal brotherhood.

I've got a 17-year-old daughter

who's had two abortions in two years...

got arrested last week at a rock festival,

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