Twitter Nurse Jackie

This programme contains strong language.

-Previously:

-I'm executive of my mother's estate and it would mean the world if I could

set up a college fund for the girls, if for no other reason than taxes.

Ladies, this is Sam. He's our new RN.

You know, I dismissed him because he was whacked out on benzos.

He successfully completed a rehabilitation programme.

I have a stack of glowing recommendations on my desk.

Can we get something straight right now?

-You and I are not buddies.

-If you say so.

-You missed one.

-It doesn't matter. The sun's going to explode and eat up all the other planets anyways.

-Wow, that's nice.

-It's the ring I could never afford to give her. Still can't.

How am I supposed to know?

He wears a big fucking bracelet that says "I am diabetic".

-I need to lodge a formal complaint against a nurse.

-Super.

-What do we got?

-Jackie, really, go.

MOBILE PHONE BUZZES

Goodness, that took a long time. I was using an iron that was not plugged in.

Fiona says Grace has been getting up at night and unplugging appliances.

Is that true?

Faulty wiring causes more house fires than cigarettes and arson combined.

Where'd you hear that?

This is the best smoke detector they make.

It's also a carbon monoxide detector.

-I've been saving my allowance to buy it.

-Sweetie, thank you.

But your allowance is for fun things like toys and stickers. Here, sit down, sweetie. Eat your breakfast.

Hey, Gracie, let Mom and Dad worry about smoke detectors, OK?

Put your money away.

I just don't want the house to burn down.

Wow. You know, the number one ingredient in hotdogs is cancer.

I partied like a 20-year-old last night.

Managed to score some grade A ecstasy.

Dvornoff in Psych told me it would only last six hours and it's been nine!

Still going strong.

You know...

I think my mother's death ripped something open in me.

You have wonderful daughters, Jacks. Cherish them.

I will. Oh, my goodness.

Do they know I'm their Godmum yet?

Well, as it turns out I have not had that conversation.

Just call them. Call them.

And then let's all go to the St Regis for lunch, just us girls. Huh?

-The girls are in school.

-Oh, we'll yank them out.

Love is more important than reading.

-Maybe I'll catch a taxi and then go. No-one will notice.

-Right now?

-No. You're staying right here. Do not go anywhere. Stay right here.

-Taxi!

You're here. Stay here.

Hey, guys.

Was that a walk of shame?

-I don't want to know.

-Do we think Zoey got her pipes cleaned?

-Dargh!

It's like seeing Santa naked.

It's not right.

I think we did!

-That's paper.

-Oh.

Hi. You the parents? What can I do for you?

It's our son Harry. He has a history of breathing problems.

Our paediatrician said it could be cystic fibrosis.

We scheduled a sweat test to be sure but it isn't for another month.

He woke up choking. Could you help him?

Sure. Harry, my name is Jackie.

Can I listen to your chest? OK.

Well, it's restricted but he's definitely getting some air.

Harry, do you like colouring books?

-I'll get you some colouring books and I'll have a doctor come and take a look, OK?

-I don't like doctors.

Yeah, me neither. Lennox Hill has newer equipment but we can certainly

-bundle him up and give him a sweat test here if you like.

-That...

-That that would be great.

-OK. Just sit tight.

I'll take care of that.

Dr Cooper will be right in.

Argh! Oh, my God! Dr O'Hara, I'm so sorry.

Zoey, ma petite fleur.

Zoey, get back to work.

-But she's...

-Come here. You come with me.

Dear Dr O'Hara,

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for the lovely scarf.

Ooh, stationery and stamps.

Mm, stamps!

There are little hearts there.

Hey, Jackie, Dr O'Hara.

-Hello.

-Can I help?

No, we are good.

Isn't your accent London with a touch of Sussex, right?

-Indeed.

-I spent my junior year in England. I'm kind of an anglophile.

How convenient, I'm an anglo.

-So what's going on?

-Nothing.

We're good. You can leave, please.

Went clubbing. Tad dehydrated.

-Feel like humping the world.

-Did you do a little X?

Chasing your G'n'Ts with a little Thai stick. Impressive. Does she have a little problem?

No, her mother just died. She went out clubbing last night.

You know what? Get the hell out of here. Go!

Jacks.

Bored. Need magazines.

Thor, give me your magazines.

-What magazines?

-Give them to me, including In Touch.

How can you read this crap?

Please don't amplify my shame.

I know you like In Touch.

Woo!

Oh, look. Goldie and Kate,

mother and daughter, together, just...loving each other.

I should've called my mother more often.

-Did you know when I was at university we used to speak to each other every day?

-No, I didn't.

I'd forgotten how affectionate she was on the phone.

Speaking of, I can't figure out how to delete her from my contacts.

Clearly you need to give yourself some time to grieve.

In the meantime, CT scan. CT scan.

This one needs a full work-up.

This one needs a shitload of Haldol and a psych eval.

Sign off on these, then you can read your crap.

Hey. Need a hand?

-Oh, hey, man. How you doing?

-Great. How are you?

Good. I think I can handle this one.

Thanks.

-Strong man.

-There you go.

-So how's everything?

How's the family? How's your wife?

-Jackie, right?

-Yeah. Good memory.

Yeah, she's good, man. We're good. Things are great, better than ever.

That's nice. Did she like that ring you got her?

Did I show you that?

You do pay attention. Yeah, man, she loved it.

-She loved it.

-That's great.

So how about you, huh? Haven't seen you for a while.

Yeah. I, er, I tried to kill myself.

I ODed on some drugs trying to get a girl's attention.

You believe that? Didn't work.

Man.

Yeah. I'm just fucking with you. I didn't try to kill myself.

-Jesus! You are a sick fuck.

-I know, I know.

I got a sick sense of humour.

-How about a beer?

-Yeah. You got a Bud?

To love. To women. To Jackie.

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

How you feeling, little buddy?

-Hot.

-I guess that was a silly question.

Anyway, it seems strange, I know, but it is the standard test

to confirm or eliminate the diagnosis of cystic fibrosis.

We force Harry to sweat and then we measure the amount of chloride in his perspiration.

We know, Jackie explained everything to us.

Good.

-How much longer does he have to wear all this?

-Not much longer.

Then I'll do everything I can to get you the test results quickly.

And I'll do everything I can to make sure he does.

But I'm on it.

-And I'm on him.

-I got it.

I'll just check and double check.

A little bit OCD, but not a bad thing if you're a nurse.

Your son's in good hands.

-What are you doing?

-Tweeting.

People follow my life online. I'm sharing my thoughts with the world.

Are you blogging about that little boy?

It's not a blog, it's Twitter.

You can't do that. It's private.

Everyone remains anonymous except for me.

If I said cys fib would you know that's cystic fibrosis?

If I said eff you, would you know that's eat shit?

Beeyotch.

-That's a nice scarf.

-Well, thanks.

It's from Hermes, which I think is a pretty good store.

Dr O'Hara gave it to me.

-Oh, cool.

-Mm.

Does Dr O'Hara have a problem?

-I mean with drugs.

-No.

-Does Jackie?

-No.

-You sure?

Positive. And since you're asking, I don't do drugs either.

Although when I go to Great Adventure I do take Dramamine,

cos once on Rolling Thunder I yacked and it was a huge bummer.

I see your sins for I am God!

That's God?

It's 12.53 pm. Vermin!

-Huh.

-I used to be totally scared of him but now not so much.

-Oh, and he's crazy.

-Hey you!

Yeah, you, sir!

With the misshapen head.

How do you wake up in the morning?

-I love this guy.

-And you!

Hey you, Pizza Face.

You shall never marry!

You won't even be engaged.

I am God. Bow, bow, bow to me, you sinners and...

Uh-oh. God's down!

A lake of fire will swallow you up.

-Pimps and whores.

-On my count.

-Get the fuck off me!

-I'll smite every one of you fucking assholes!

-In psychosis.

-Can I have some vitamin H over here, please?

-Haldol, shaken not stirred.

-Getting the IV.

This is God, age unknown. He's probably about 50.

He lives across the street. Schizophrenic, currently off meds.

-I know this guy.

-Got hit in the head with a bottle.

-He told me I was super handsome, like Clark Gable.

-I retract!

Let's stitch him up.

You are an angel.

Will you stop fucking Twittering and focus, please?

-"Bitchy nurse being bitchy again."

-Don't do that.

Don't you dare Twitter about me.

Thanks for telling me I'm an angel.

When I was younger I actually thought I was an angel because I had a round face.

And I thought about becoming a nun.

Sound Of Music.

But I really like boys so I didn't.

Not all boys. There's one boy.

More man. Man-boy.

He's totally...

pcka-pcka-pcka-pcka.

It feels really inappropriate, talking about this with you, God... Sir.

-You know, when I hit my head I seen something.

-Like what? Like a bottle whizzing towards you?

I seen this tunnel with this incredibly bright light at the end of it,

but it didn't hurt to look at.

And at the end of the tunnel I met the most loving presence.

And I just knew it was God.

-I saw God.

-But I thought you were God.

I mean, I thought you thought you were God.

-I am God.

-So you saw yourself?

-No.

-So you saw God and... it wasn't you.

-Yeah.

-So...

..I guess that means

that you're not God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my... I'm not God!

-I'm not God!

-Calm down.

-I'm not God! Argh!

THEY BOTH SCREAM

I'm not God! Argh! Argh!

Zoey, handle it.

I'm not God!

Hey, Jackie, I found these.

-OK. Where?

-Right over here on the floor.

-Good catch. I'll take 'em.

-Are they yours?

Are they mine? No.

What is hospital policy regarding lost or found drugs?

-Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.

-Oh, why so desperate?

-Excuse me?

-Well, you just seem really anxious for me to hand them over.

Do you want to get your ass kicked?

Give them to me. Now.

Come with me.

Any unidentifiable drugs or substances go into the slot.

That is hospital procedure. Got it?

Pain in my ass.

-Hey.

-Hey, babe.

-Listen, Luis is a firefighter, right?

-Yeah.

-Is he there?

-Yeah, he's here.

-Can you do me a favour?

Can you ask him to go over to the house and explain to Grace that the house will not just burn down?

-Maybe that'll ease her mind a little bit.

-That's a great idea.

-All right. Love you.

-Love you too.

Bye.

-The wife?

-Yeah.

I fucking love beer nuts.

KNOCKING

-Come in.

-Hi. A few things.

First of all, Coop will not stop Twittering.

It is interfering with work and it's pissing me off.

That's interesting.

Dr Cooper lodged a formal complaint against you.

Against me? Really? For what?

Insubordination and general bitchiness.

Insubord... Fucking A.

Twitter tweetering fucking dickhead.

-Anything else?

-Yes. This Sam guy.

Like every newly-sober person, he's convinced that everyone around him is an addict.

It's like the born-again guy we had last year. I'm just saying.

-Also one of my nurses needs a paediatric psych referral.

-Which one?

She'd rather not say.

Be helpful if I knew how old the child was before making a referral.

She's a very private person and she would rather not have everyone know her personal life.

I would say the kid's between... I don't know, seven and 12.

-Gender?

-She wants a list of shrinks that take our insurance and she wants it anonymously.

You know what? Forget about it.

Jackie.

Here is the best child psychiatrist I know

and she takes our health plan.

Thank you.

She was tremendously helpful with my boy.

Thanks.

Hi. I have the family of a little boy waiting for the results of

a CF sweat test. I would love to send them home.

I can only give the results to the doctor who ordered the tests.

Dr Cooper wants the results but he's in with

a trauma right now and if the test is positive I need to set up an IV.

Look, I'd really like to help you out here but I can't.

OK.

Everything's really preliminary at this point so it's just better not to give up. Sorry.

How old?

-Oh. Three months.

-Smiling yet?

Mm-hmm.

It's really awful when they get sick.

-What's the name?

-Miller, first name Harry.

-The whole run's not complete but the prelims look good.

-Thanks.

-Mm-hmm.

OK, so I went to the lab and talked to the tech.

Keep in mind that the doctor has not seen the results yet,

but so far they are looking very good.

-Thank God.

-Why don't you all go home and get some rest?

Thank you so much.

You've been so wonderful. Really? We can take him home?

-Yeah, I would.

-Just... Thank you.

I'll see ya, Harry.

-Say bye.

-Bye.

I'm telling you, man, it's great.

You can see the lights of Citi Field.

It's way brighter than Shea used to be.

You been yet to Citi?

-Not yet.

-You want to go sometime?

My brother gets me tickets.

Well, I would love that.

Cool. Islanders too.

No shit.

Would I shit you?

Thor?

It's not what you think.

Doughnuts. Really? You already lost one eye, am I right?

-How'd you know?

-Today in trauma with God...

I had my hand next to your face for about 20 minutes before you saw it.

Also I kind of just used my Spidey sense.

You are the only one who knows.

I haven't even told my new boyfriend yet.

Thanks for covering.

It's a shell. It's porcelain.

They paint it to match my other eye.

It's great. You would never know.

-You want to see?

-Sure.

Ooh, will you look at you?

What do you think of the new guy, Sam?

Oh.

Er, well I think he's really smart and incredibly cute.

And I think he's probably an excellent nurse.

-I don't like him.

-Yeah, he's dead to me.

Go on, yell at someone.

-I don't want to.

-Oh, come on.

You're so good at it.

Ooh.

Look at the bald dude.

Say, "Hey, Baldy. You're all bald.

Grow some hair you idiot."

What's the point? I'm not God.

Oh, sure you are.

I'm not. I've seen God and he wasn't me.

-That doesn't mean anything.

-It means everything.

It means I'm not God. It means my life is a sham.

Well, Jesus wasn't God.

-So?

-But he's still like really important

in the religious hierarchal stratification.

So maybe you're like Jesus.

Mm-hmm?

Jesus was the son of God.

So maybe you're like the nephew of God

or the brother-in-law of God.

I like where this is going.

Hey, you! Strumpet with the thinning hair!

I can see your soul.

You whore!

Lather, rinse, repeat!

That's how they'll get you.

Where's the sweat test kid?

I sent them home. Why don't you run to Akalitus and lodge a formal complaint?

-What do you mean you sent them home?

-What don't you understand?

They were sitting here for over six hours while you were dicking around. So I went to the lab,

-got the results, which were negative in case you're interested and I sent them home.

-Negative?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

-Excuse me?

-Those test results were preliminary.

I was waiting for the final results, which by the way were positive.

The kid's got cystic fibrosis.

-Oh, fucking God, no.

-Yeah.

Harry and his family are celebrating and now it's my job to

pick up the phone and tell them that their kid's not going to live to 30.

What's the matter? No snappy comeback?

Let me call them?

Have a nice Goddamn night.

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