The Hospital Page #4

for pushing drugs.

They let her go.

The typical affluent American family.

I don't mean to be facile about this.

I blame myself

for those two useless young people.

I never exercised parental authority.

I'm no good at that.

Oh, God, I'm no good at this, either.

Let's just forget the whole thing.

I'm sorry I bothered you.

How serious are your suicidal speculations?

I amuse myself with different ways

of killing myself that don't look like suicide.

I wouldn't want to do my family

out of the insurance.

Digitalis will give you an arrhythmia.

A good toxologist would find traces.

Potassium's much better.

Then you're stuck

with how to get rid of the hypodermic.

Forty milli-equivalent.

Gives you time to dispose of the evidence.

You seem to have given

considerable thought to the matter.

You ought to know that a man

who talks about it all the time never does it.

I don't know. I see a man exhausted...

emotionally drained, riddled with guilt...

has been systematically stripping himself

of wife, children, friends...

isolating himself from the world.

- Are you impotent?

- Intermittently.

- What does that mean?

- I haven't tried in so long, I don't know.

Let's just drop the whole thing, Joe.

I feel humiliated and stupid.

I just got to pull myself together

and get back into my work.

I'm sorry I troubled you.

Take care of yourself. I'll see you later.

Ten-four, save our homes.

Two, four, we the poor.

Don't go 'round. Don't tear us down.

- All set?

- Yes, sir.

- Who was that exotic group?

- You got me.

- They've been here about an hour.

- I think they're with the old man in 806.

Dr. Perry said he picked the tuberculosis

and liver nodes for today.

- Yes, sir.

- Good, because that's the one I studied up.

- A hell of a case.

- Yes, sir.

- Who's presenting?

- I am, sir. Should I start?

Mr. Hemmings!

Is there anybody seated

who hasn't been to see me first?

Is there anybody here who has not

given me their health-insurance number?

Emergency Room.

I don't know, Sybil. What's his name?

Wait a moment, please. I'm on the phone.

Can't you see I'm on the phone?

I am, Sybil. I'm looking.

Of course not. Do they ever?

Would you mind, please? Excuse me.

Thirty-two?

Telescope sights.

They follow me everywhere.

Three big Black men. Naked,

completely exposed, right in the street.

Hanging down to their knees.

It's disgusting.

Did you call upstairs and tell them

to admit a patient named Mitgang?

- Is that the concussion?

- I don't know.

They said you didn't fill out the chart.

Where do you come off sending anyone

up to Admitting without my okay?

Would you get the hell out of here?

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