The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 Review: I’ve Never Felt So Old

The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 highlights how much we take readily-available technology that seems like it’s been around forever (but really hasn’t) for granted. The first part of the hour does the most overt and clear job of that, with the attending physicians giving their mostly young staff a crash course in the “old school, analog” way of doing things. A whiteboard replaces the digital boards. Actual, physical charts and slips for labs and x-rays need to be filled out, and stored, and submitted the proper way for anything to get done. Someone needs to deliver the downtime slips over to the correct places. A pharmacist needs to be on-hand for dispensing medication from lockup…

…and that’s just the beginning. Everything that’s already chaotic about the hospital is suddenly even more overwhelming—in triplicate, you might say.

As the hour progresses, the very capable nurses, residents, and students are suddenly making mistakes they never even thought possible before now. Student doctors Javadi and Ogilvie each follow half of the instructions for grabbing a patient. So, in an awkward moment, they both wind up going to assess and treat the same person, at the same time. It’s a fun beat, especially as these two have been rivals for most of the season. (Only to learn now that their real competition is most certainly Joy Kwon and her photographic memory). And the reaction from Dr. Santos after she puts her chart in the wrong place at one point, then receives a reminder from Robby about putting a backlash through everything she rules out at another, is as priceless you’d expect.

Labs don’t come back on time because they were never sent out—a CHEM-7 and chest xray needed by the same patient requires two slips, not one. On a computer, it would most likely be a matter of just checking some boxes, all in one place. Speaking of computers and imaging, Dr. Whitaker goes toward a computer in his patient’s room to start putting in orders for a CT, only to freeze on hearing Robby’s “ah, ah, ah” and oh, so slowly stop himself, most of the way there, as he realizes “yeah…it’s not gonna…wo-ork.”

Even Whitaker’s picture of the digital board, taken so quickly (after his awkward accidental selfie) is a gadget fail. It’s a blurry mess, and the moment again shows how technology can be a crutch. Once upon a time, we didn’t carry digital cameras around in our pockets. Not long before we did, digital cameras weren’t even a thing in the first place. At any rate, the lack of a usable image gives everyone a chance to realize, for a very brief second, what a huge disaster not having a smartphone could be. But the miracle of Joy’s memory saves everyone from having to rely on their imperfect ones and/or scramble to get redo hours worth of work. And even she doesn’t know everything. Apparently, student doctor Kwon doesn’t know what a fax machine is—meaning she’s never actually seen one.

Basically, The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 makes anyone who grew up in “the Dark Ages” known as “the 1900s” (dear God, kill me now) feel ancient. Despite all the comments about how much going “old school” totally sucks, and all the otherwise-intelligent characters just completely repeatedly messing up things that used to be second nature, The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 is still really good TV. In fact, that might just be because of how well the hour highlights that generational and technological gap, rather than in spite of it. That’s because, no matter what era we’re in—whether PTMC’s staff works off a more modern board or one that feels eerily reminiscent of “old school” TV shows like ER—this 2:00 P.M. continues to tell stories that center patients and the people who do their best, no matter the difficult circumstances, to care for them.

MORE: Read our overall The Pitt Season 2 review!

“You’re a very brave woman.”

About 15 minutes into this 2:00 hour, Princess goes to visit Dana to tell her about the “hot mess out there” now that everything’s shut down to protect the hospital’s data from a cyberattack. She’s clearly trying to ask Dana for help without pressing her, and it’s one of those situations where it’s kind of impossible not to feel bad for both characters. But Dana finishing Ilana’s rape kit is most important, so as soon as Emma returns with her, a very drained Dana has to get right back to that warm yet clinical, supportive yet detached, version of herself we saw in Episode 7 when her SANE duties began.

Katherine LaNasa is as great as ever here—which is to say she continues to get better by the second. A lot of viewers will probably point to Dana’s outrage at finding a kit that’s been neglected by the police for two weeks, when it’s supposed to be picked up within 72 hours, as one of the best moments in The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8. And I’m definitely not going to argue with greatness there. But there’s something about how LaNasa portrays that agonizing internal battle of Dana’s when—in another stunning performance from Tina Ivlev—Ilana says she’s glad Dana was here today. It’s just so raw. She struggles through so many reactions until settling on that pained, forced, smile and a “me too.”

There’s nothing for Dana to actually be happy about in that moment. Not for herself, at least. She hates that she had to be there today, to be the one to do this—to put a victim through that exam, to offer her medications for STI preventions and remind her that this could have more lasting effects on her than only trauma. It’s like, how much can she possibly take of this part of the job, of seeing so many people in their worst moments and trying to give some part of herself to alleviate something, anything of their pain?

And yet, somewhere, in the many, many facial expressions LaNasa cycles through here—even, maybe especially, that smile that’s anything but—it’s clear Dana is glad she’s here today. Because she was able to be here for Ilana, so she wouldn’t have to wait longer than necessary, so someone could be a friendly face.

The other interesting part of these moments in The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 has less to do with Dana than it does with Emma. When Emma and Ilana first come back, there’s something in the way Laetitia Hollard and Ivlev play off each other that indicates some kind of connection they’ve made. Whatever happened out there, whatever these two young women discussed, it’s a secret. Just between them. But it’s important. They share all these little glances as Ilana says she’s “good” and wants to keep going. There’s a trust there, and Ilana finds some kind of strength or reassurance in Emma. These little moments create something tiny slice of light in such a dark situation.

Then, as we get to the end of the exam, Dana tells Emma to go ahead out and help everyone else because they need her now. But Emma…hesitates in a way. Hollard plays the moment like Emma really wants to say something but doesn’t want to betray Ilana’s confidence. Maybe, even, she doesn’t want to risk revealing too much of herself to Dana or to letting her boss know what she discussed with the patient for fear she messed up. (She could never. Emma is perfect.) So, Emma settles on that utterly beaming smile of hers, telling her, “it’s nice to meet you, Ilana. You’re a very brave woman.” It’s enough. The patient attempts to smile back and, understandably, fails a little. But she tries. Again, a glimmer of hope.

Then, once Emma’s gone, Ilana fights her way through telling Dana “she’s…a good nurse.” That proud, warm response from Dana is everything. Her smile, her tone of voice—truly, it’s so very meaningful. And to circle back around to when LaNasa lets out everything her character has had to bury over the last hour-plus after finding out she went through all of this with someone else two weeks ago for nothing, Hollard is very present in that scene, as well. Her little swallow as she glances over her shoulder aren’t about the usual nervousness in this job, or even about Emma being afraid of Dana like she told Dr. Langdon she was (that returns a little later).

No, she’s worried about her patient. Maybe she even wonders if she did the wrong thing by getting Ilana to go back and finish evidence collection. It’s as if she’s asking “what have I done” and “was it all for nothing” on top of so, so many other things. At the center of all of those things: “I hope she’ll be ok.”

The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 ends this story in a very unfortunate, yet heartbreakingly realistic, place. There’s no guarantee, in the real world, that getting a rape kit will lead to anything other than more trauma. Evidence doesn’t get picked up, or it sits and degrades for years without being tested, or a survivor goes all the way to trial and testifies,only to receive no justice at all. Meanwhile, folks want to cry about “has this gone too far” or “cancel culture” when some high profile figure or another gets called out.

For what.

MORE: Emma experiences a lot of the most difficult parts of being a nurse in The Pitt Season 2. In Episode 6, she learned about cleaning a dead patient’s body.

“Maybe…you could ease up with your comments about his weight.”

Outside of the overall commentary on how much we rely on technology (maybe too much?), The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 tackles several issues that are, unfortunately, timeless. While attitudes around weight—what’s the most “ideal” body type and what people are expected to do to maintain it, for one—go through phases, fatphobia remains a problem. It doesn’t matter how much of an effort people try to make toward creating a more body positive society. For some reason, fatphobia just won’t die. The healthcare industry isn’t immune to that problem. In fact, plenty of patients have had traumatic experiences with doctors who only saw them as a number on a scale and ignored all other possible causes for a wide range of symptoms.

As we see in this hour, sometimes, it’s a combination of dismissive or judgmental healthcare workers and equipment that’s built with certain biases in mind that can make an already stressful trip to the ER even worse. Howard Knox comes to PTMC with abdominal pain and a fever. His symptoms are bad enough that Robby, Whitaker, and McKay want to rule out an appy. But as McKay puts it—as gently as possible, to her credit, though it’s kinda impossible to be gentle here—he’s “a little too large” to do an ultrasound. He needs a CT, but even that doesn’t come without a ton of complications.

Unfortunately, this particular hospital’s CT can’t handle anyone above 450 pounds. So, after waiting for an eyesore of a contraption—not your usual scale—to weigh him, the doctors confirm Howard’s at 474, meaning he has to be shipped over to Presby while suffering his current symptoms. As an aside, this is another example of everyone taking certain technologies for granted. In its own, particular way, the difficulty of getting the Hoyer down there and getting Howard in and out of it, just to know if he can even get a CT here or has to be transported somewhere else kinda fits The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8’s wider narrative. It’s secondary to the fatphobia discussion. But it’s still there.

That doesn’t even begin to get into the work needed to do an awake nasal trach, or that Howard can’t lay back without getting short of breath, or any number of other issues. As Dr. Garcia tells us when she’s brought down for a surgical consult, Howard’s chance of survival is significantly lower (only about 50%) due to his weight. For what it’s worth, all of these delays in doing simple tests don’t help his odds for a positive outcome either.

The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 makes a clear enough case for “not all” doctors being dismissive or judgmental of patients due to their weight. Robby’s extremely careful about asking Howard if he knows how much he weighs, and McKay’s never anything other than gentle and understanding. Student doctor Ogilvie, on the other hand, is completely tactless and keeps making totally unnecessary comments about exercise, and Ozempic, and sending this poor man to the zoo. It’s awful. But at least he has enough empathy and sense to look contrite, maybe even a little bit afraid, after that horrible pause and McKay’s quiet “he’s right there.”

Like, dude. Even Whitaker’s giving you the evil eye. Come on now.

To be perfectly fair to the kid, he’s never quite seemed like he had the best understanding of social cues and does have an explanation for why he mentioned the zoo—”a large animal CT,” which…still means he’s comparing a human being to large animals—but still. It’s just wrong, just an awful comment to make. It’s also not at all surprising for anyone who’s ever heard or experienced “just lose weight” being the only advice a doctor could bother to provide. There’s a very fine line to walk here. Weight can play a role in things like medication doses and surgical outcomes, so doctors do need that information—within reason. But the obsession with it to the exclusion of all else is, to be blunt, evil.

Throughout this entire patient story, Craig Ricci Shaynak does an excellent job of getting viewers to (rightly) empathize with his character. Howard’s obviously in a lot of physical pain. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even be here. But it’s that emotional pain, that shame like we’ve seen with people like Digby and Gus Varney, that Ricci Shaynak embodies so well. There’s not a single bit of doubt that Howard knows what Ogilvie’s hinting at—that he’s lazy, probably eats like crap, and can just magically “fix” his obesity—and even less doubt that he already feels plenty terrible about himself as it is.

As a viewer, that self-deprecating “I’m single. Go figure” is a big “ouch” moment. The same goes for that pure agony and hopelessness when he hears his weight, coupled with his “sorry for all this trouble,” that actually might have broken something in me. A person who needs help, who’s at the hospital for what could potentially be a life-threatening condition, shouldn’t be made to feel like he’s a burden. The fact that he thinks he has to apologize is just…horrible. I also can’t get over the raw emotion in his voice on “before I can’t talk, I just want to say…thank you. For everything” because, even with Ogilvie’s snark, this is probably the best Howard has been treated in a healthcare setting in years. Which is just absolutely gutting.

It would be naive, at best, to think The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 is going to magically fix the problem of fatphobia in healthcare settings, much less convince the average viewer to stop going for the low-hanging fruit of fat shaming whenever they’re trying to come up with something nasty to say about evil people whose evil has nothing to do with their size. But, hopefully, it plants some seeds that can grow into folks being more mindful. Those bad people you’re mocking aren’t going to hear you or see your posts on social media. Someone with a story like this Howard Knox character’s, however, will.

Which, come to think of it, if we could at least stop being like student doctor Ogilvien, and just keep our judgy comments and looks to ourselves when we see people who don’t fit the ideal, that’d be a fabulous step in the right direction.

MORE: As we saw with Dr. Mohan’s patient Orlando Diaz earlier this season, nobody should judge anyone else who help paying for healthcare—or anything else for that matter—either.

More The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 reactions

“…then you can tell everybody what to do.” “No, thank you. Best if it comes from the department chair.” …and he cuts her off right away before she can even finish, all short-like with “oh, you think?” The problem with some of Dr. Robby’s sh**tier moments, besides the sh**tiness, is Noah Wyle kinda kills it with the timing and the tone.
Since a lot of The Pitt Season 2 has him at odds with Dr. Al-Hashimi, it also helps that Sepideh Moafi is so good at playing this character who’s not afraid to stand up for herself, yet absolutely knows when she’s kinda stepped in it and immediately pulls back, only to keep, essentially, dancing right back to that invisible line. If Moafi were to act too much like Dr. Al’s been put in her place, or like she’s afraid of this guy, it would destroy our main protagonist (Robby) and set her up as a victim. Instead, they’re equals that keep swapping roles, in terms of who’s more right and who’s more wrong.
Basically, just…the two actors work really well together, in terms of creating this tension—this friction—that ebbs and flows in a compelling way?
“I…kind of have a photographic memory.” Big fan of how Irene Choi delivers completely bored energy here, especially in the presence of so many other actors playing up their characters’ complete and total shock. Wyle looks like he’s in an endless buffering loop, while Shabana Azeez is doing Javadi’s best “WTF” face. And then, we have Fiona Dourif shooting all those glances over her shoulder in the general direction of Patrick Ball, like they’re both asking each other “can you believe this” and responding with “uhhhhhhhhhhhh…no.”
Poor Princess is, once again, about to cut someone for volun-telling her to take on additional administrative duties. But, like. She’s very good at this!
Harlow has been here since 7:00 A.M. with no relief, AND IT WAS THAT F***ING SIMPLE. I’d be throwing my laptop across the room and/or dumping my TV off the balcony if, you know, I wouldn’t have to immediately shell out money to replace those things.
“Are those fish swimming in seaweed?” Poor, confused McKay…and check out that reaction from Robby like “???”
No, Santos, the slop machine isn’t still going to be working when nothing else is. You poor, sweet, summer child. (Or we could all just scoff and turn away like Robby. Either way!)
“This is the Dark Ages.” Thanks. I hate it.
Mel smiling and waving at Dr. Nordt, causing Dr. Al to think she has a question. PROTECT HER.
“That is a fax machine.” “They still make those?!” Well, at least this one had me cracking up.
“Couldn’t get an IV.” “I wonder why.” If this dude doesn’t STFU…
“This is how we rolled when I was a resident.” “Was that in the 1900s?” “Yeah, when charts were written by candlelight.” Team Abbot. Shawn Hatosy nails my personal offense here, while also adding a little bit of “intimidating attending physician” to the mix. Amazing.
“How much does this suck?” Imagine if they had to deal with dial-up, though.
Loved this funny little moment: “Hey. Today will be an adventure. Think of it like Back to the Future.” Langdon walks backwards into stuff that’s not usually there. Goes smash. Javadi’s eyes almost pop out of her head. Mohan just gets that…beat to stare down at the fallen objects. Even Mel’s looking like “yikes.” And then. That super upbeat line reading from Supriya Ganesh on “or possibly Titanic!” Comedy genius from everyone there. Barely takes a few seconds. Still golden.
“Write neatly. Penmanship counts.” Perlah is such a troll. (Complimentary.) Also: Did these kids even learn how to do doctor chicken scratch???
“If surgery is necessary, then your weight could make things a little bit more complicated.” “I know. I’m sorry.” Justice for anyone who’s ever had to be this embarrassed and feel the need to apologize for their body, especially while trying to get help.
“Not to worry. We’re going to take very good care of you.” At least Robby sounds sincere here.
“Presby’s CT can handle 650.” Wyle’s eyes are doing all the work here. That…is a warning. And some rage that Robby is very, very busy fighting to contain in front of the patient.
Then, there’s that look of “et tu, Dennis?” when Whitaker’s all, “yeah, if Presby’s still up and running.”
(It’s totally a jinx, Huckleberry.)
When Roxie’s parents show up in The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8, everything about the way they interact with her makes it easy to see they know they’re saying goodbye. As her mom smoothes her hair, or her dad gives her that sad smile of encouragement on “you’ve got this, Kiddo,” it’s like she finally feels the relief of being able to show someone, anyone, who loves her the full extent of her pain. She’s had to hold it together for her husband, and once the kids are there, that’s even worse. But, no matter how much it hurts her parents, it’s like she gets to be the kid now. So, they’re only going to wordlessly reassure her that it’s ok to go, that they’ll make sure everyone else is taken care of for her.
At one point, it’s like she’s begging her dad to take the kids away, and he gets it, puts on a show of being the fun grandpa promising ice cream…and we’re left with that awful sense of finality and that last, lingering shot of Brittany Allen. It’s like Roxie’s grieving the loss of her family, when she’s the one who’s about to die. And Javadi sees all of this in a way that others can’t.
…and this is just way, way, way too sad to dwell on. Somehow, it’s even sadder than all the other gut-wrenching things this series has done. But it’s beautifully done. I don’t want to at all imply otherwise or leave this storyline out entirely.
“Can she have ice cream?” That sense of gravity on Azeez’s “she can have anything she wants” also wrecked me, for what it’s worth.
In which Robby, Al-Hashimi, McKay, and even Whitaker all cannot stand Ogilvie’s F—in’ audacity.
“Took me 25 years to get this way. Car crash, burn unit, four leg surgeries over 10 years. Laid me up so much, I lost my job…” FINISH HIM.
“Sometimes, it’s called an eye stroke.” That closeup on Ganesh…whew. Mohan is not happy with Mel needlessly scaring this patient and her wife.
Heartbreaking: The smartest med student you know is completely at a loss because of a whiteboard.
“It’s a hot mess out there.” “This whole day is.” Poor Dana is…ragged.
“We can help by finding out what’s wrong with him and treating him with respect.” It’s the way McKay doesn’t even look at this kid until she gets to the “treating him with respect,” part for me. Great way to emphasize that Ogilvie hasn’t been respecting the patient, while also not even having time for the student’s BS up until that point.
Adults, incapable of filing out triplicate forms with the right kind of pen. Oy.
Langdon keeps making an effort to be kind to Santos…and keeps getting totally shot down. I get it—I really do—but at some point, she does have to learn how to work with him.
I can’t deal with a lot of eye stuff in general, but I’m definitely intrigued by Dr. Al calling in someone from the VA and being so very dedicated to restoring this patient’s vision.
The camera is very pointedly sticking to Dana’s face and the actual swabs. Good.
Her voice is so gravelly when she asks how Ilana is. Pain.
With Nicole Steadman’s visit to talk to Jackson Davis’ parents, The Pitt Season 2 Episode 8 sets up a whole new type of grief process. Nobody’s dying, but this is a loss for them. And right now, Jackson’s parents are still in denial about his mental illness. They just want an easy test and an easy fix, but those things don’t even exist. Nicole, on the other hand, is so very proud of her daughter. Yes, there’s a sadness underneath all that boasting about her making Employee of the Month. Sometimes, with illness, those dreams you and your loved ones had, the lives you thought you’d live, aren’t possible in this world anymore. So, you adjust. You move on, while maybe having some lingering regret.
It’s like…there’s a loss, sure. But the “laughter and love” Nicole fondly talks about are what’s important anyway. So, that sinking dread Jackson’s mom obviously feels thinking about him not finishing law school now…I, hope, will pass.
“Honey, this one has to be your call.” “No, it’s our call. What would you do without me?” “I’d figure out how to get by….and I’d probably cry for two years solid.” “Two years? That’s all?” I LOVE THEM.
Speaking of Santos having to learn to work with Langdon…I really appreciate how both Isa Briones and Patrick Ball play the moment when he jumps in to help with Jackie. (Not to be confused with BFF Jacquie). She immediately tenses up, and he not only reacts in a way that shows he noticed—he also tries to have as calm and non-threatening a presence as possible. Frank clearly gets it and doesn’t want to make things worse. Buuuuuut he also understands the patient still needs both of them.
Very cool closeup of Jackie’s cross-eyed look down at her tongue as Santos grips it and puts the needle in.
The squeal.
Of COURSE Dr. Mohan gave poor, lonely George great advice about getting out and finding community. She’s a pure angel. And there’s a reason everyone at this site adores her. I appreciate her so much. And I appreciate a few moments for such a quiet, personal talk in the middle of that chaotic AF hallway.
Joy totally knows there’s history between Santos and Langdon and wants the tea. Or, eh. She thinks she wants it. It’s messy. I’d recommend…not.
“…no. You want us to treat your officers as soon as they come in? You get a detective to pick these kits up ASAP. I gotta go.” If Dana has no fans, I’m dead. LaNasa really goes in on the “let’s lash out to avoid breaking down” of it all. (Besides, those cops deserved the tongue lashing they got anyway.) And I know I mentioned it up above and all, but wow when she finds the leftover kit and explodes, that’s such a powerful moment. You spend over an hour keeping your emotions in check for the benefit of someone who’s been through a gross violation, and then…this. It’s enough to push anyone over the edge. If it doesn’t, I’m not sure I trust you.
“What’s that noise?” “UFO landed. Aliens are invading.”
“Nice to have you back.” “Thrilled to be here.” She sounds like the opposite, and neither of them looks particularly happy at all.
What even with the mechanic friend, though?
“One day at a time.” Yep. That’s both frustrating to keep hearing/having to repeat and the only way forward. I love that little aside between McKay and Langdon so, so, so, so, so much. They both really embody what I…may or may not have seen with loved ones interacting with others at various stages in their sobriety journeys. (That’s a mouthful. Not sure how else to dance around it. Sorry?) It’s also a nice touch when Langdon finally looks a little bit hopeful after McKay shares with him. Like he finally feels so much relief that he’s not alone and can do this—because McKay’s doing it!
And when she leaves, Frank’s basically like…a lost puppy, looking for help.
“You’re supposed to sign up on the dry-erase board.” And “you’re supposed to have a clipboard for the patient.” Totally, completely, lost without computers.
“This isn’t a discussion. It’s a monologue, so shut up and listen. The malpractice case is frivolous. The mother of the measles kid claims we caused intellectual decline by performing a spinal tap. But the tap was perfect with no complications. Her son presented with altered mental status due to low oxygen from measles pneumonia. Any change to intellect was due to hypoxic brain injury. It had nothing to do with your spinal tap. End of monologue. We never discussed the case.
Obligatory “I would die for Dr. Ellis.” …and PROTECT MEL. She looks more and more uncomfortable the longer that conversation goes on. Poor thing.
“Sorry for all this trouble.” “It’s ok. This is what we do” HE LOOKS SO SAD, blinking back tears.
Mohan, busy advocating for that baby while the world burns. Love her to death.
“I was a part of a study on racial disparities in healthcare until the White House cut the funding last year.” “Yeah. You are not alone.” Whew, that “yeah” is EVERYTHING. Also, she’s most definitely not alone, and we’re never going to get back the cures we’ve now lost under this mess. So, congrats to everyone who refused to help prevent it.
I…need to sit with the way Ganesh plays Mohan’s reaction to Al-Hashimi’s suggestion about her future for 3-5 business years. There’s so much going on there, and I genuinely don’t know what to pick apart first. So very complicated—like, I don’t even think the character knows what to do with the thought of going into geriatrics? But she’s also obviously going to be good at whatever she chooses, and her “narrowed down” list of options is, uh…all over the place. So. I’m just. Fascinated.
“Maybe we could recommend rehab?” “Yep. We could try.” The way Santos just glances at Langdon once on the “yep” is a super acting choice.
And Langdon just…continues to have that very ugly reflection held up to him all day, huh.
“You guys are the best.” They are. This hospital. I love them all. (In case that wasn’t painfully obvious to anyone who tries to read all the word vomit.)
“He was my friend. I had a lot to say.” Oh. Here we are crying again.
…and crying harder because “Louie got his wings.”
“So, get out your pen. Go old school.” “Dana, on what?” He is so. Agitated. It’s wild. Donnie is such a smart and capable person. He’s been so chill all day. And this…totally throws him off.
“It is an ethical a principle in palliative care. We treat pain. And if, in doing so, there’s a negative side effect, we accept it.” “Even if the negative side effect is death?” “In some cases, that could be the best outcome.” Robby may come across as heartless to some viewers here, but Wyle doesn’t play the moment as flippant or uncaring at all. And anyone who’s watched a loved experience excruciating pain while actively dying, while that death is taking both too long and not enough time at all…probably gets it. I don’t want to say everyone will understand or agree. But…many will.
“How are we gonna get through this mess?” “I was about to ask you.” ER Mom and Dad watching all that chaos…
Something tells me things are only going to get worse. We’re only at the halfway point of the season, after all.