Saving Hope

Don't do this.

Save it for the hearing.

It's not what Charlie wants.

- Good morning. - Good morning.

- Good morning. - I'm Mr. Stein.

I'll be presiding at this consent and capacity hearing.

Which of you is Dr. Bell?

I am.

Dr. Bell, because you submitted your application first,

you and your lawyer will be presenting first.

Dr. Reid, you and your lawyer will have the opportunity

to ask questions afterwards.

No cross-talk. Let's begin.

T.G.I.F.

- Excuse me? - This girl is freaky.

Plans this weekend?

Work out and sleep.

Ah, sleeping... lucky.

My sister and her cute but very colicky baby

are coming to stay with me.

Rub it with soft sponges. Little orange suckers.

- Huh. - Swimming through medical school.

Yeah, I was hoping you could do me one better.

Can I stay at your place?

- At my place. - It's not a step towards anything.

Don't freak out. It's just a couple nights.

I'm not freaking out. Um, can I think about it?

- What's there to think about? - I just... I don't know.

Haven't solidified any plans.

Oh. Your plans suck.

This is Charlie and I hiking in Colorado.

He once said that if he couldn't do this,

he wouldn't want to live.

He once told me he couldn't live without pie.

This proves that Dr. Harris valued

a certain... active quality of life.

It's not proof of anything other than the fact

that he went on a vacation.

It's all useful. We're trying to establish

Dr. Harris' values and his wishes.

Let's move on.

Here's an e-mail dated June 2, 2003.

Thank you.

Charlie wrote, "just got back from the I.C.U.,"

"seeing my osteosarcoma man."

"Feeding tube, respirator, the whole nine yards."

"Don't let me go out like that, darling. Promise."

Two months ago, you came to me,

you looked me in the eye, and you said, "try everything."

You begged me, and now I'm doing all of that.

Why? Why the 180?

Well, this is the thing. We have tried everything,

and he's just degenerating.

His hand moved.

Once. Two months ago.

Involuntary movement happens

in a persistent vegetative state.

He's minimally conscious.

If that's the best that we can hope for,

then there is no hope.

I feel that Charlie is here.

I'm guided by that in everything I do.

I know he wants to be kept alive.

I believe that Charlie would wanna die with dignity.

He's still alive.

And he'd wanna be kept that way.

I have chart extracts from two of Charlie's patients

who became comatose.

It shows that he's supportive of a full code status.

Do you have, uh, consent

for the release of his patient information?

Yes, I do.

He's in the I.C.U.

He's had pneumonia. He's a 6 on the Glasgow coma scale.

He's basically a horizontal corpse.

I know that sounds horrible,

but that's how Charlie would have seen it.

I see him every day, Dawn,

unlike you, and I know he's here because I'm here.

Dr. Reid wants to keep him alive

because she can't bear to let him go.

She's too close to him to see

- what Charlie would have wanted. - How?

How can you be too close to the person you love?

The day of the accident, Charlie came to me,

and he asked me how many chilren I wanted to have.

Charlie is a doctor.

Above everything, he heals people,

and as chief of surgery,

he never gave up on a patient, ever.

Now he's the patient.

He wouldn't want us to give up on him.

I have butterflies.

New heart. Pretty big deal.

- I heard Dr. Bell is petitioning... - Not the time.

You see me.

- Yeah. - Ohh.

They're taking my heart, man.

You won't need it.

The big risk is that the body could reject the heart.

The immune system sees it as a foreign object

and starts fighting it immediately.

Dr. Reid?

You okay?

Yeah.

I'm fine.

Fine. More importantly, how are you feeling?

Well, I'm about to have a heart transplant.

True, but it is the simplest cardiac surgery you can have,

believe it or not.

Poor Grace.

I propose, she says "yes," and I get sick.

I can't believe she's still around.

- She loves you. - I'm a lucky guy.

Hi. What else do we need to do?

I'm... I can't believe I forgot my list.

I'm a virgo.

That's what she does.

She makes lists to remind her to make lists.

Shut up and hold my hand.

Sergeant Hellard.

- I'm Dr. Goran. - Hey. Jimmy.

You're the one that came in with the heart transplant.

Yeah. Yeah, but I'm leaving with a kidney,

so I figured I might as well get this back checked out

- while I wait. - Well, what's happened with your back?

Yeah. Yeah, it's, uh, really killing me.

I must have tweaked it, you know, driving, whatever.

Right. Well, let's take a look at her, then.

Take a seat up here.

You'll have to lift up your shirt.

Is that thing loaded?

That's what she said.

(radio chatter continues)

All right.

So does the pain radiate from your lower back?

Yeah. Yeah.

Yeah. Goes down my whole leg.

And what about your bladder habits?

Notice any changes lately?

I am proud to say I still pee standing up.

Well, that's a pride you should maintain.

What about sexual function? Anything different?

Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're getting a little personal, doc.

Can't you just write me a ticket?

You know, from your little pad? Script?

Well, this is a surgical consult,

and I don't know what's wrong with you yet. (pen clicks)

But we'll get you an M.R.I.

You hang tight.

Hey. The, uh, heart I came in with...

Who's getting it?

Uh, some nice young kid, apparently.

What about the donor?

Some guy's who's doing time in Maplehurst.

- Prisoner? - Yeah.

Got into a fight.

Someone caved his head in with a barbell.

Hey.

What's the most gruesome thing you've ever seen on the job?

Guy walked in off the street and his head fell off.

That's pretty good.

That's my heart, my kidney, my spleen.

That's disgusting, by the way.

That's your lungs and your liver, too.

You're dead.

Still mind. Besides, what anybody ever do for me?

- You signed the organ donor card. - No, I didn't. I don't sign things.

What, just as a rule, you don't sign things?

That's right.

Well, they probably called your family, then.

My family.

They get paid for this?

No, they don't.

Why not? My organs aren't worth nothing?

- Is that what you're saying? - No, but th-that's not the point.

I mean, look, you die, they gut you like a fish.

It's the gift of life.

- Really? - Yep.

That's all right.

Yeah.

Doing a very good thing,

so godspeed.

What, am I going somewhere?

Uh... yeah, you should be, any minute now.

- Hey, what's he getting? - Uh, your heart, probably.

Well, he's so young. What's he need a new heart for?

I don't know. Uh, Bernie, I'm gonna... I'll see you around.

- How did the hearing go? - I don't know.

And, uh, what's the deal with the transplant?

I diagnosed this guy a year ago. Total fluke.

He'd be dead in a month without this heart.

Things are gonna work out.

Alex...

if you need...

You're gonna be nice. Don't do it.

Well, I'm around, okay?

Yeah.

Almost done. (buzzing stops)

Okay. Lungs back on.