The Pitt Recap: A Moment to Process
“It’s only 9 o’clock, and you’re already bumming me out,” Dr. Langdon tells charge nurse Dana after she takes him to task and tries to remind him of the concept of empathy after being callous about a situation with a patient, but it could also be me talking directly to The Pitt. You’re bumming me out, The Pitt! I mean that in, like, an emotionally devastating, moving way, so it’s a compliment, but I’m generally a masochist when it comes to television; this is not surprising. Anyway, I’m crying again!
We’re three episodes in, and I’m still a little bit in awe that this show can pull off enough emotion to tug at the heartstrings with so much chaos to contend with. The “9:00 a.m.” hour feels even more chaotic than the previous two, which is saying something. When you have a patient come in with a nail to the heart and the situation is both hilarious — please school these med students on the definition of melee again, construction worker Hank! — and harrowing, and that patient is barely a blip on your radar by the end of the episode, perhaps one might say too much is going on? I’m deeply into the hyperrealism The Pitt is angling for but there is currently a lot to keep track of, and it’s growing harder to invest in a lot of the patients coming in when there are so many and we barely get to learn their names before moving on. We aren’t all Dr. Robby, the Multitasker King, okay? I get the reason for it, but I’m also thankful we have a few long-term patients to anchor our story.
One of those long-term patients (it feels wrong to call them long-term when it’s been mere hours, but that’s life in the pit, baby!) is, of course, 18-year-old college student Nick Bradley, who overdosed on fentanyl even though his parents swear he never took drugs. You wouldn’t think that storyline could get more heartbreaking than it already is, but “9:00 a.m.” said hold my beer, er, saline. Nick is brain-dead. Dr. Robby knows this, we know this, and yet — understandably, I might add — his parents, Lily and John, cannot accept this truth. While Robby’s colleagues continue to find his handling of the family a little less doctoring and a little more coddling, Robby is adamant in his plan. He knows Lily and John need time to process this immense loss and if he can give them that time, he will. He tells them he’ll do two final tests on Nick — an apnea test to see if his brain stem is still telling his body to breathe, and a cerebral perfusion study to see if any blood is still flowing to the brain — but is quite clear that he doesn’t expect either test to tell them anything they don’t already know and these are the last two tests left to run. Essentially: This is it.
Meanwhile, another college student who has overdosed on fentanyl is rushed to the ER by her roommate, but Dr. McKay administers NARCAN to Jenna the moment she arrives — still unconscious in the car, actually! — and it’s not long before Jenna wakes up. She tells McKay and Javadi (still on triage duty) that she swears she didn’t take anything until finally admitting that she took half an unprescribed Xanax to help her sleep after a big study session. The twist: This is not a coincidence to have two college students rushed to the ER the same morning because of fentanyl overdoses. Mr. Bradley, on the precipice of letting Nick’s death sink in after news that his son failed the apnea test, recognizes a kid coming in to visit Jenna as one of Nick’s friends, too. He races over to Jenna’s bed: “Where did you get the fucking drugs? Did you give my son drugs?” he screams at her. When she yells back that it was actually Nick who gave her the fentanyl-laced Xanax, so he should go ask him, and he tells her that Nick is dead, she is stunned into silence. “You killed my son!” John yells while being dragged off by staff members before the scene escalates any further.
And if that visual of a father just undone over the loss of his son doesn’t smash your hearts to bits (are you a robot?), the next time we see the Bradleys might do the trick. John apologizes to Robby for the outburst, but he just doesn’t understand why that girl gets to live and his son is dead. “None of this is fair,” Lily whispers, completely broken. When Robby tells the Bradleys that he wishes he could’ve done more for their son, you know that the guy’s going to carry this one around with him for a while.
And he’s carrying a lot already! For the first time since his shift started, we see what it looks like when Robby — who really is a pro at keeping his emotions in check — is so overwhelmed he needs to take a breather. After the sister of Jack Abbott’s deceased patient — the young vet involved in a car accident — arrives and asks Robby to read the simple, lovely letter that Jack left for the family because she can’t bring herself to do it, he steps out of the room and has to gather himself before moving on. Okay, fine, this breather lasts all of six seconds, but hey, this is a dude who won’t even stop to pee in order to take care of his patients, so let’s be thankful he pauses for even a brief moment to take care of himself.
And remember, this is all on top of the situation with the Spencer family. No one except Helen is shocked when her father isn’t handling the intubation well. Bereft by Mr. Spencer’s side, she wants to know what the next step is in order to keep him alive. Robby’s news is grim: Every other option will continue to be more invasive, more painful, and have next to no effect on Mr. Spencer’s outcome, which, again, Robby is positive is not going to be a good one. Even when Jeremy comes out to apologize for his sister, who is insistent that they continue the life-saving measures their father expressly does not want — she hasn’t had her fill of her father, even if her brother has, she exclaims! — Robby assures Jeremy it’s okay. “This is hard,” he tells him. Honestly, thank god they made Robby a Sad Boy; otherwise, he would be too perfect to be believed. He’s so good at his job; what a sight to see! He’s been doing this for a long time, and sure, he knows sometimes he might disagree with the family or patient’s choices, but he also knows that sometimes all the family or patient needs is a little time to process. That’s what’s happening with the Bradleys, and it’s what ends up happening with Helen Spencer, too. Robby again reaffirms to her that the most humane thing he could do for her father is to extubate him and make him comfortable until he passes. It’s coming whether she’s ready for it or not and she needs to think about how she wants her father to go out. In tears, she finally tells Robby that it’s okay to extubate.
Let us not forget: Not only is Robby handling patient emotions on top of his own, but he has several little baby doctors to tend to during this shift as well. How are the newbies doing in hour three? Well, I’m growing concerned about two of them. We left the last episode with our farmer-turned-med student Whitaker refusing to stop CPR on Mr. Milton, the patient he had diagnosed with gallstones, only for the guy to suffer a massive heart attack while waiting on a gurney for cardiac test results. Mr. Milton’s death isn’t Whitaker’s fault — several doctors assure him as much — but he takes his first patient death hard. After a moment honoring Mr. Milton, Robby pulls Whitaker aside to make sure he knows “no doctor on the planet” would’ve seen Mr. Milton’s heart attack coming and that dealing with a patient dying is part of the job. He needs to find a way to process that. It’s Dr. Mohan who forces Whitaker back into a patient room … of course, her little back-in-the-medical saddle exercise ends with Whitaker dumping a bottle of Mylanta all over his scrubs and having to navigate the scrubs machine, which is never good for one’s morale. Still, I have hope for our Doctor Farmer yet!
More concerning, perhaps, is intern Trinity Santos. We’ve already deduced she’s got that tough exterior masking a hidden pain thing going on — although in this episode, she jokes about having a defense mechanism, which I’ve yet to decide if this makes me believe she’s going to side-step that trope or we’re dead on in our assessment — but here she also seems set up to get the old “cocky newbie’s going to fail to learn a lesson” storyline. Her colleagues aren’t exactly fans of her — well, Mel likes her, but Mel likes everyone! — and we know Langdon’s giving her the side-eye, but here she even gets called out by Collins and Robby. Collins is already fighting for the top spot in the “Best Characters on The Pitt” list I have running in my head at all times, but her admonishment for Trinity’s f-bombs while working a trauma — “They say [swearing is] a sign of intelligence. I think it shows a lack of self-control, but what the fuck do I know?” — may have tipped the scales her way. She’s also on Trinity’s ass about not letting her ambition and confidence get the best of her — she needs a dose of respect and humility. But she’s not the only one: Even Robby is rubbed the wrong way when Trinity gets a little bold in asking to perform unnecessary procedures for practice on recently dead patients. Maybe this is another sign of Robby already feeling burdened by this dire shift — or maybe he just thinks Trinity is an asshole. Time will tell!
Discharge Papers
• Dr. McKay is all over Robby about taking care of “the incel kid” David, who is still missing and hasn’t shown up at school yet. Robby doesn’t want to involve the police and screw up David’s life if this is a false alarm, or there’s still a chance to talk to the kid. McKay, who tells Robby that she’s “been on the other side of someone who hates women,” wants him to think about the lives of the girls on David’s list. This conflict between the two of them will surely only become more of a problem.
• An ambulance is stolen right in front of its two paramedics and Dana. That’s fun! I mean, not for the paramedics who are very angry about it, but for us as a viewing audience, it could lead to some good drama!
• Okay, but I’m actually very concerned that Robby hasn’t found time to pee yet. I will be tracking this; please watch this space.