St. Elsewhere

Dr. Mark Craig:
"Premature is a relative term, Donald."

Dr. Mark Craig:
I'm sick and tired of sacrificing residents, so you can feel like Mother Teresa.

Everybody:
You're a pig, Ehrlich.

Dr. Mark Craig:
Do me a favor, say "moose and squirrel".

Natasha:
[in her thick Russian accent] Moose and squirrel.

Dr. Mark Craig:
That's what I thought.

Dr. Mark Craig:
[looking at an x-ray] There's a liver not long for this world.

Dr. Daniel Auschlander:
It's mine.

Dr. Wayne Fiscus:
I have a hunch.

Dr. Mark Craig:
So did Quasimodo.

[repeated line]

Dr. Mark Craig:
[to Ehrlich] You moron!

[repeated line]

Dr. Donald Westphall:
Oh, boy.

Dr. Donald Westphall:
[to Dr. Gideon] Let me put this... in terms you can understand. [drops pants and underwear] You can kiss my ass, pal.

Dr. Jack Morrison:
You said yourself it was a textbook case of leukemia.

Dr. Daniel Auschlander:
We're treating a little boy here, not a textbook.

Luther Hawkins:
Look, the only needle I wanna see is on my stereo. At home. Which is where I'm headed.

[stepping through the door into a desert-like Purgatory]

Dr. Wayne Fiscus:
Toto, I don't think we're in Boston anymore...

God:
I created you in my image.

Dr. Wayne Fiscus:
You could have done a better job on the nose.

God:
Everyone's a critic.

Dr. Victor Ehrlich:
[to Vijay] Thanks a lot, pal. I hope your karma gets stuck in the parking lot.

Dr. Mark Craig:
[breezes into the room, almost bumping into a nurse on the way out] Excuse me. [Immediately opens Broadwater's file] Mr Broadwater. How are we this morning?

Mr. Broadwater:
Feelin' pretty good.

Dr. Mark Craig:
Well, I have some good news, and I have some bad. Two of the major vessels to your heart, the left anterior descending artery, and the circumflex artery, are 90% obstructed.

Mr. Broadwater:
[stunned] But I feel fine.

Dr. Mark Craig:
You didn't feel "fine" when you had those chest pains walking up a flight of stairs, now did you?

Mr. Broadwater:
Did I have a heart attack?

Dr. Mark Craig:
No, but when we put you on the treadmill, your electrocardiogram indicated ischemia. And the angiography - do you remember when we put the dye through the heart? Revealed obstructions... VERY serious obstructions.

Mr. Broadwater:
[clutches his chest, breathing heavily] 90% obstructed?

Dr. Mark Craig:
[holds up a long rubber tube] Let me show you something, Mr Broadwater - what does this look like to you?

Mr. Broadwater:
A rubber tube.

Dr. Mark Craig:
Arteries are tubes. They carry the blood and oxygen from the heart. Now, bear with me. If we obstruct the flow of blood and oxygen to the brain... [ties a tight knot in the tube]... What do you think happens?

Mr. Broadwater:
[gets up unsteadily] I-I don't believe this. I'm only 40 years old here. Doc, you...

Dr. Mark Craig:
[curtly, shouting] You're fat. You smoke. Your father died of a heart attack when he was 42.

Mr. Broadwater:
But Doctor, there must be SOMETHING...

Dr. Mark Craig:
You are walking a tightrope, Mr Broadwater. If it isn't the stairs today, it'll be washing the car tomorrow, or bouncing your little boy on your knee - or, if you're lucky, when you're sleeping.

Mr. Broadwater:
[sits back down weakly] Ohhhh, my dear God.

Dr. Mark Craig:
Now, for the good news. [pause] I'm going to save you.

Mr. Broadwater:
How?

Dr. Mark Craig:
Triple bypass.

Mr. Broadwater:
Surgery?

Dr. Mark Craig:
[nods firmly] We'll give you a few moments to think about it, notify your loved ones. Do I have your complete cooperation? [holds out his hand]

Mr. Broadwater:
[shakes it half-heartedly]... I guess so.

Dr. Mark Craig:
Excellent. [shakes Broadwater's hand, snaps the file shut, and breezes back out without further comment]

Dr. Jack Morrison:
You'll die.

Cora:
[softly] And what if you're wrong? How about that, hm?

Dr. Jack Morrison:
I'm not wrong.

Cora:
Well, suppose you're not. If not... [sadly]... No big loss.

Dr. Wayne Fiscus:
I don't get it. It's a beautiful spring morning, the birds are chirping, we're off the clock and you're acting like Lady MacBeth.

Nurse Shirley Daniels:
It's no fun reading about yourself in the morning paper. 'Family sues St. Eligius, site wrongful death'.

Dr. Wayne Fiscus:
Aw, you're just upset because they spelled your name wrong.

Nurse Shirley Daniels:
I am not.

Dr. Wayne Fiscus:
Yes you are, 'Shriley'.

[one of the elevators is stuck between floors]

Dr. Mark Craig:
What a rathole this is.

Dr. Cathy Martin:
[gushing] I can hardly verbalize it, but ever since the transplant, just the thought of Doctor Craig makes my eyes moist.

Dr. Victor Ehrlich:
[sarcastic] You're eyes?

Dr. Mark Craig:
I'm a surgeon, not a sex object.

Ellen Craig:
Ok, you've asked how the family is, how your friends are... everybody but your dad and the gardener.

Stephen Craig:
How is the gardener?

Dr. Victor Ehrlich:
But I'm not a flake, Dr. Westphall.

Dr. Donald Westphall:
Flakes don't graduate first in their class, doctor. Not even in California.

Luther Hawkins:
Oh, Doc, what you're asking me to do is to snoop and sneak and pry in other peoples business. [shakes his head no]

Dr. Ben Samuels:
Fifty dollars.

Luther Hawkins:
I'll ask around.

Dr. Mark Craig:
It's women like that that give the X chromosome a bad name.

Dr. Mark Craig:
This is not a stag party, Ehrlich. Get a date! And while you're at it, get a haircut.

Mitch Hopson:
[while being restrained by several medics] Satan's in my throat, he's reaching for my soul!

Luther Hawkins:
This guy doesn't need a doctor, he needs an exorcist.

Dr. Victor Ehrlich:
[finds Kochar hiding in a supply closet] You just look like my brother did the night before his wedding.

Dr. Vijay Kochar:
[upset about losing his virginity to Martin] But for me, there will be no wedding.

Dr. Victor Ehrlich:
What do you mean? I rented my sari!

Dr. Vijay Kochar:
Sorry.

Dr. Mark Craig:
[having just transplanted the heart of Jack's wife into Mrs. Leighton's body] If it's any comfort, your wife has given that woman a second chance. She's a living example of Nina's compassion for others. [pause] I'm sorry.

Dr. Daniel Auschlander:
Most people associate hospitals with disease. I think of romance. But that's another story.

Monsignor:
I don't like you, McCabe. You're a smoothie from Southie. You wear a clerical collar and convince people you're a good person without doing anything to earn it.

Father Joseph McCabe:
And you're a petty bureaucrat who uses the power of the Catholic Church as if Jesus Christ was your idea.