10:00 A.M.

Today's the day Doc Adamson died.

He hasn't worked it in four years.

So if he's a little prickly today,

give him a pass, okay?

Unfortunately, the Kraken--

- - Is still boarding at BH.

But when he wakes up, God help you all.

- I just wanna understand how this could happen to our son.

I can't stop wondering why Nick and not her.

Did you drug my son?

- Your son gave me the drugs, asshole!

Ask him!

- We don't teach forearm fasciotomies

to our residents-- she'll hold the blade.

I'll cut. - How much pressure?

Just about this much.

Mm-hmm.

- Hey. Been looking all over for you.

Fuck me.

The mom's got a bad burn,

needs wound checks and hand therapy,

and I got a sneaky suspicion she may be unhoused.

- If there was anything I could do to heal your father,

I would do it.

But the most humane thing that I can do for him

is to allow him a painless, peaceful passing.

And that requires removing the breathing tube.

Okay.

- Don't you know those things'll kill you?

Oh!

Hey, they're stealing our rig!

- What the hell is going on out there?

- Somebody stole the rig. - Again?

- Hey, where do you guys think you're going?

- We'll be back in two minutes max.

Antoine is going to show us his new motorcycle.

- Great. We always need organ donors.

Yeah, someone stole your rig.

- Yeah, you weren't watching the screens?

How'd you miss it? - Oh, I saw it pull out.

But I figured you were in it. Why'd you leave the keys in it?

- It's protocol. - No, it's not.

That's what I said.

Yes, it is.

And I--who steals a fucking ambulance at 10:00 a.m.?

Easy--junkies, meth heads,

thinking they just stole the candy store.

- Or a psych patient kicked loose last night.

- Y'all don't know. That thing is getting

stripped, chopped, and shipped.

That's a pro job. - Shut the fuck up.

Maybe another driver took it. Did you call your dispatch?

- Of course we called our dispatch.

Did you call the cops? - I can,

but there are two having breakfast in the cafeteria.

Help yourself.

Hey.

I'm good. Thanks.

Protocol.

Come on.

- I'd put $20 on the psych patient.

Oh, I'll take that action.

Hey, do we have crutches?

- Yeah, ortho locker just restocked.

Okay, great.

Can you bring back Sherry Davis next?

- Sterno mom with the hand burn?

- Mm-hmm. - She split.

- Shit. When?

- I gave the kids two breakfasts each

off the boarders' cart, and they left.

In school probably?

- Did she say anything about coming back for wound care?

Not to me.

Fuck.

- I need rooms cleared and cleaned,

so I'm shuffling the deck.

- Yeah, but why are you moving him into Pedes?

I'm just about to extubate him.

- There's no kids in there at the moment.

The family can have some privacy.

There's nice pictures on the wall.

What's the problem?

There's no problem.

There's no problem.

Mrs. Smith does not need a cardiac monitor.

She can get her Vanco in the hall.

We've got one tele-bed available.

Let's give it to Otis before someone else snags it.

- Yep. - Leave the family

in Central 7 alone until nuclear medicine

is ready to take the kid.

There's no sense in moving them twice.

Aye-aye, Cap.

Hey, Robby.

You're going to extubate? - Yes.

- Good. You shouldn't have intubated.

- Yeah, I remember you saying that,

just like it was this morning.

You want me to do it?

No, why?

Adamson.

- Jesus! - Okay.

- There's something moving in there!

- Ma'am, hold still. - Get it out!

- I can't help you if you keep moving your head.

Get it fucking out!

I can feel it!

Arthropod in the EAC.

Oh, my God.

- I better get in there.

Yeah.

- How long will he live without the oxygen?

It's difficult to say.

Once the tube comes out, it could be anywhere

from 30 minutes to several hours.

When I extubate, we're gonna suction the back of his throat.

We're going to give him some glycopyrrolate drops,

which will cut down on his secretions.

He'll get morphine for any pain.

And we'll give him some oxygen in his nose

as a comfort measure.

Jesus.

I don't--I don't think that I can go through with this.

I mean, this-- this is happening?

Like, now? Like--like, today?

We--we just decided that Dad is gonna

die in this room,

in a room with cartoon forest animals all over it?

- If you think about it, it's kind of perfect.

Our--our dad worked on "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood"

the whole time that we were growing up.

- Oh, no kidding. That's very cool.

- "Mister Rogers," the television program?

- That's right. - Here in Pittsburgh?

- At WQED on Fifth Ave for 33 years.

Dad worked with Jack Guest, the art director.

So he helped, um,

paint and build all those sets.

- I don't think that I can do this.

Okay.

Just to be clear, your father is dying,

and you're choosing to allow that to occur naturally,

rather than subject him to a torturous amount

of procedures, which would only delay the inevitable.

- I just thought that it would be different.

And I thought that there'd--

we'd have more time.

Is your family religious?

Oh.

God, no.

No God.

I had a teacher, mentor,

who told me about a Hawaiian ritual

called ho'oponopono,

or "the four things that matter most."

It's basically just a few key things

that we can say when we're saying goodbye

to a loved one that can really help

at the early stages of loss.

What are they?

- They're gonna sound really simple,

but I swear I've seen them work.

Okay.

I love you.

Thank you.

I forgive you.

Please forgive me.

That's--that's it?

Yep.

Told you it was simple.

Okay.

Mr. Spencer, I'm gonna take this tube out

of your throat now.

What I want you to do is to take a very deep breath.

Breathe in. -

And now blow it out.

There we go.

Okay.

Okay.

- I'm gonna give you some oxygen in your nose.

- A couple drops under your tongue.

- - You okay?

Tired.

You can rest.

Close your eyes if you want.

Your children are here.

- Uh, Dad, you just-- you just rest, okay?

We're right here.

I'm right here.

Come find me.

- Okay, take a deep breath for me.

- Jesus, everybody's going to this concert tonight.

I wonder if there's any decent passes left.

Another deep breath.

Oh, my God, Jenna.

You're never gonna believe who DM'd me.