Great Geigerisms 1.8.5
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Memorable Mandy Moments/Great Geigerisms
Rebels With Causes
At Chicago Hope, Dr. Jill Brock is checking Douglas Wambaugh's test results:
JB: Something's wrong. This EKG looks normal. [Geiger enters.]
JG: Hello, I'm Dr. Geiger.
JB: Hello, I'm Dr. Brock. This is Douglas Wambaugh.
JG: [Looking at DW's chart and test results.] Hi, how old are you?
JB: He's 72.
JG: OK. I've looked at the other tests plus which with what I've seen
you've probably got coronary spasm.
JB: I was thinking of putting him on [prinisol?] regiment.
JG: Well, you been probably thinkin' wrong. Even though the spasm's in the
heart, the problem's in his brain.
DW and JB: What?!
JG: [to JB] I'm sorry, you are again?
JB: I'm Dr. Brock. I brought this patient here. I'm the primary.
JG: Oh. Well, we got him now. You can go.
JB: No. I'm gonna stay.
JG: Fine. [to DW] Could be a lesion. I want to schedule an MRI. See
what's up there.
DW: There's nothing up there. I'm Douglas Wambaugh and I'm a lawyer. I
know all your big city hospitals, where you schedule unnecessary
operations to qualify for federal grants. There's nothing in my head
and you're not going in there. Look at his shoes.
JG: [Glances down at his shoes.] I'll schedule the MRI for tomorrow. Hope
you enjoy your stay. Both of you. [As JG leaves, he pats them both.]
DG: That was not a nice man.
Brock catches up to Geiger walking in the hall:
JB: Excuse me, Dr. Geiger. I'm sure you're a very busy man.
JG: I am.
JB: But even so, you don't just ride into a patient's room like a freight
train and tell him he has a brain tumor.
JG: Oh, I apologize. I only do that when a patient could have a brain tumor.
JB: That's ridiculous. It was a mild coronary.
JG: Sure about that?
JB: How long did you take to look at the test results?
JG: About a minute and a half.
JB: Well, I took two hours. I've also treated this patient for six years.
But a minute and a half, you're right, I'm wrong.
JG: Actually after 30 seconds I knew you were wrong. The extra minute I was
deciding what to do.
JB: Dr. Geiger, look...
JG: Look, Dr. Brock, I'm sure you're a very good little physician. I firmly
believe more med students should go into general practice. You're to be
applauded, but this isn't Green Acres. You're at Chicago Hope, and the
most profound contribution you could make here would be to step aside.
And I mean that in a good way.
JB: I am the attending. I will participate in *all* the decisions from now
on. I will *not* step aside. Do we understand?
JG: Yeah, I think so. You don't like being wrong and you resent me for being
right. [He walks away and then turns around.] Now, we have a lovely
cafeteria. Perhaps you could go there, get yourself a nice cup of coffee,
ponder all the possibilities of aspirin or whatever other miracle drug
supports your practice. In the meantime, I'll try to save your patient.
JB: You're an arrogant bastard.
JG: [with amused sarcasm] That was *very* rude, wasn't it?
Spinning happily in the MRI machine, Wambaugh grins like a little boy:
DW: I feel like I'm in Disneyland.
JG: Just try to stay still sir.
DW: The acoustics are fine. Do you mind if I sing? I like to hear my voice
in here. Plus, if a man can sing a song, then he's not sick.
JG: Do whatever you want sir, just try to remain still.
DW: [singing] Be prepared. That's the Boy Scouts' solemn creed. Be
prepared, and be clean in word and deed. Don't solicit ...
Meanwhile, Geiger and Brock discuss the results of the MRI:
JG: I'll get a neuro to confirm, but see that tissue patch--demyelination.
JG: That's the dorsal nucleus of the vagus nerve.
JB: I know what that is.
JG: I didn't say you didn't.
JB: I heard your tone. I don't need your attitude!
JG: That's a little sensitive.
JB: If you want to be Ben Casey--
JG: I wasn't the one to overlook it...
So give me your opinion, doctor.
JB: I don't know. He's 72 years old. It doesn't make sense.
JG: Well, he could have gotten it a long time ago. [Remissed?]
JB: Wouldn't there be symptoms?
JG: Mild case, not a lot. But the way he walks and the tremor and that
lesion there. There's no doubt your patient has multiple sclerosis.
Back in his room, Wambaugh tries to convince Geiger that he does not have MS:
DW: There's nothing wrong with my brain. You're just trying to keep me
from going to the Supreme Court. There's nothing wrong with my brain.
JG: Mr. Wambaugh, you have multiple sclerosis.
DW: I couldn't have that. Tell him, Jill, he's wrong. He says that
because I'm Jewish.
JG: Excuse me?
JB: Doug, I'm afraid he's right. It was the MS lesion on your brain that
could have triggered the artery spasm.
DW: Yeah, this is a doctor conspiracy. You get a big referral fee, he gets
to operate and another lawyer gets to go to Washington. Next you'll be
calling me paranoid.
JB: Where's Miriam?
DW: I sent her to temple. Somebody has got to pray. [JG starts to leave
and pats DW on the foot.]
What is this--this multiple sclerosis?
JG: It effects the central nervous system, mainly the brain, the spinal cord
and the optic nerves.
DW: What causes it?
JG: [whispers] We don't know.
DW: Well, how do you get rid of it?
JG: You don't. It's incurable.
DW: Then I don't have it. I can't even pronounce it. Here's what I think.
The only thing you know I've got for sure is insurance. So you invented
a big disease with a big name so you can bill my carrier and keep me
away from Sandra Day O'Connor. You can't! I waited too long. You
can't make me sick.
Later, in his hospital room, Wambaugh practices with life-size cutouts of the
Supreme Court justices:
DW: It isn't fair. Life should be fair. It has to be fair. Things aren't
fair! [He punches one of the cutouts just as Geiger enters.]
JG: Are ya nuts? You just decked the Chief Justice!
DW: I want to leave this hospital.
JG: You can leave tomorrow, after we finish the tests. Maybe even tonight.
But first, uh, you should probably speak with our house psychiatrist.
You're talking to giant posters.
DW: I had them sent. I have to prepare.
JG: Mm hmm. For my own education, do they ever talk back?
DW: Look, stop making fun of me. I'm sick of people making fun of me.
I made it to the Supreme Court, and I'm going to be there. Then you'll
all have to stop laughing. Everybody.
JG: If you have no objection, I'd like to have you sedated, 'cause I believe
you are a kook. [Brock enters the room.]
JB: Excuse me, what are you telling this patient?
JG: Only that he's a little wacko, but I'm sure he already knew.
JB: He's just been diagnosed with a lesion on his brain. You have the
insensitivity to stand th--
JG: Please don't, don't, don't, don't yell at me. Volume has no effect.
JB: Who the hell do you think you are?
JG: Who am I? I'm 2.3 million dollars a year, that's who I am. [DW raises
his eyebrows.] I make that much because I've got a very busy practice.
And I have taken time out from that practice to treat a patient who
talks to cardboard judges, while his physician keeps interfering when
she should be back in Rome, Wisconsin, tending to her veterinary
practice. Please have the decency to appreciate my efforts.
JB: [fuming] Well, let me tell you something, Mr. 2.3 Million--
DW: Is that after taxes?
JB: --I am a board certified general surgeon. I am qualified to work here in
your ... precious Chicago Hope Hospital. I could work here! Do you
know why I don't?
JG: Our preference that patients survive?
JB: No, I want to be a REAL doctor, I want to know my patients. I don't
want to be a specialist meat cutter who does body work. I want to
know my patients.
JG: Well, I'm sure that brings them profound joy, but bottom line, you didn't
know what this patient had. I did. Look, I don't know much about where
you people are from, what the hell gives? He's punching out posters.
You? I--I don't know what you're acting out against. But you're both
very strange people. You're very strange.
DW: You only say this because I'm Jewish.
JG: I'm Jewish.
DW: Ah-hah! He says it because *he's* Jewish!
[With a look at JB, JG silently exits the room.]
Brock brings her complaint to Watters:
PW: I can't give you another doctor.
JB: Jeffrey Geiger has got to cause more coronaries than he fixes. I never
met a more antagonistic personality. What does that say about...
PW: You also have never met anybody with more talent.
JB: What is it with you people? You think you're so special. This may not
be the best hospital in Chicago, much less the rest of the country.
More people go to that other--what's its name--
PW: [shakes his hand] We never mention the other one.
Please. [He offers her a seat.] Look Dr. Brock. You have a nice
life in Rome? Family, kids?
PW: Well-rounded life?
JB: What's your point?
PW: My point is that Dr. Geiger is a specialist. His entire life is in this
hospital. While you're reading to your children, he's perfecting his
artificial heart. While you're attending PTA meetings, he's digging into
his sixth bypass procedure of the day. He doesn't have time to run for
mayor of his town. I'm sure you would've made a great mayor. I have no
doubt you're a wonderful mother, I can see firsthand you're a good
doctor. But you're not him. It may make you angry that you're not him,
but please have the sense not to let that anger compromise your patient.
Wambaugh is standing on a chair shouting, as Geiger tries to get him down.
Brock comes running in with security:
JB: Stop it now!
DW: Make them stop.
JG: [to security] Get some restraints in here stat.
JB: No, no restraints.
JG: He's not jumpin' out a window on my shift. You got it?
JB: Would you shut up. [Watters enters.]
PW: What the hell is going on?
JB: What is going on is: I have an erratic patient who is agitated by a
devastating diagnosis, delivered by this despicable, contemptible
PW: Hold it!
JG: Already she knows me.
JB: You know, this may be a great hospital, but you people are no better
than anybody else. You ask me, you people suck.
PW: Yes, we do. Let's go, Jeffrey, come on.
JG: Well, let me tell you about her... [PW drags JG out.]
Geiger silently returns and listens thoughtfully to Brock and Wambaugh
through the curtain.
Wambaugh is wheeled down the hall, leaving the hospital with Miriam and Brock:
DW: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I stand before you today with a lesion
on my brain. A good lawyer can always adjust.
JB: Of course he can. [They meet Geiger at the desk.]
JG: Checking out tonight?
DW: We want to leave early on account of you being such a horrible person.
JG: It's my mission, to free up the beds. Mr. Wambaugh, take your
medication. You'll be fine.
DW: I was never sick!
JG: Right. Goodbye.
DW: Goodbye. [The orderly starts to push his chair down the hall,
but DW asks to go back.]
JG: You're welcome. [DW is wheeled toward the elevator, JG addresses JB.]
I heard the things you were saying to him. You're some doctor.
I mean that.
JB: Thank you.
JG: [re DW] He's something, that guy, huh?
JG: Maybe one day I'll get to know my patients.
JB: [laughs] I doubt that many of them would like you.
[JG shakes her hand and smiles.]
JG: See ya.
JB: See ya.
Geiger waves to Wambaugh and leaves.
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