All language subtitles for Monk S05E16 Mr. Monk Goes to the Hospital [1080p x265 10bit Joy]

[elevator bell dings]

[woman over P.A.]
Paging Dr. Medford.

Dr. Medford.

[machine beeping]

So I said, "You can't
leave your boy here all day.

This is where I live.
This is not a day care center."

I know.

Well, it took me five years
to tell her.

I'd been watching the kid,

oh, gosh, since he was about
six months old.

I know.

Well, since I work
the night shift,

I watch him during the day.

Well, that's it,
I'm sleeping.

I am sleeping
during the day.

Oh, no.
How many months is she?

[scoffs]
Oh, don't start.

[conversation fades]

[elevator bell dings]

[oxygen mask hissing
every breath]

[oxygen mask hisses]

What are you doing
out of bed?

[Randy Newman ragtime theme]

* It's a jungle out there

* Disorder and confusion
everywhere *

* No one seems to care

* Well, I do

* Hey, who's in charge here?

* It's a jungle out there

* Poison in the very air
we breathe *

* You know what's in
the water that you drink? *

* Well, I do,
and it's a-ma-zing *

* People think I'm crazy
'cause I worry all the time *

* If you paid attention,
you'd be worried too *

* You'd better pay attention
or this world we love so much *

* Might just kill you

* I could be wrong now

* But I don't think so

* 'Cause it's
a jungle out there *

* It's a jungle
out there *

[short siren burst]

(Natalie)
Another step.

We're almost there.

One step at a time.

Ah, you're being
so brave.

Tell them
I'm a former police officer.

You can tell 'em
yourself.

Okay, here we go.

(nurse)
No, you can't
bring them here.

We're out of beds.

Where I'm gonna
put them, on the roof?

Well, try St. Barnabus.
They might have room.

Hello.

Yeah.

What's she doing?

She's holding up
a finger.

The bad finger?

No, Mr. Monk,
the pointy finger.

Good luck.
Can I help you?

Yes, this
is Adrian Monk.

M-o-n...

M-o-n-k.

He has a bloody nose.

It's been bleeding
all morning.

Yeah, it's been bleeding
all morning.

It won't stop.
It won't stop.

Cause of injury?

I was putting away
my ironing board,

which is normally
a two-person job--

Mr. Monk,
it's my day off.

It still is.

An ironing board.
I need your insurance card.

Yes.

Fill this out,
both sides.

Former police officer.

He's a former
police officer.

I appreciate that,
but he has to wait,

just like everybody else.

You and your husband can
have a seat over there.

Oh, we're not married.

Congratulations.
Have a seat.

Oh--

(Monk)
Wait a second.

Hey, wait, wait.

Excuse me.

I--I was here
before him.

That man
has a head wound.

This is a head wound.

That is not a head wound.

Actually, it is,
technically.

You have a bloody nose.

It's a wound,
and it's on my head.

Do you have a dictionary
back there?

What is she doing?

Now it's the bad finger.

(Natalie)
Let's sit down.

[Natalie laughing]
Yes, I promise,

I will definitely
be there.

Okay, let's synchronize
our watches.

I'm allergic
to tetracycline.

Yeah, I know,
Mr. Monk .

One dose of tetracycline
will kill me.

Yeah, look, I have it
right here.

Allergies: tetracycline.

I will probably
beat you there.

I'm right around
the corner.

I'm at St. Mark's
Hospital.

Emergency room.

Oh, it's not me,
it's my boss.

It's a bloody nose.

[laughing]

I know.
Okay.

Me too.

All right, bye.

Uh, Mr. Monk,
I need--

Aw.

There's a light bulb out.

Yeah--
Two, actually.

Okay, Mr. Monk, I need
to tell you something.

Don't freak out,
but I've made some plans,

and I'm just gonna go
for a couple of hours.

No!
No, no, no.

No, you can't leave.
You can't leave me here.

Mr. Monk, you're
in really good hands.

It's a really great
hospital.

And I mean, come on,

it's not like
it's life or death.

It's a nosebleed.

How can you say that?

I've lost a gallon
of blood.

I'm hemorrhaging.

You are not
hemorrhaging.

Look, I've already
cancelled on this guy

three times
because of--

well,
because of you.

You're leaving me?

Don't say that.

Please don't make me
cancel again.

I really, really like
this guy.

You're leaving me.
I'll be back by 2:30.

Natalie,
I'm really scared.

You're always scared.

Yes, but now I'm scared
and hemorrhaging.

Okay, Mr. Monk,
come on, please.

I have been on call
for 24 hours a day,

seven days a week,
and I'm exhausted.

I mean, it's
my first day off

in what, two months?

And this date, this guy--
it's important to me.

Oh, God.

God--

All right, but I mean,
if you really,

really want me to stay,
I'll stay.

I want you to stay.

I can't stay.

Okay, I'll leave
my phone on, all right?

I will be back in just
a couple hours.

Okay, bye.

[babies crying,
telephones ringing]

Is it seeping
or oozing?

(nurse)
Okay, Mr. Lam,

you have to sign
right here.

We're sending Mr. Lam
right in.

Hello, excuse me.

I have been sitting there
for an hour and a half.

I know, we're booked up,
as you can see.

[speaking Vietnamese]

If I may?

I speak a little
Vietnamese.

[speaking Vietnamese]

Okay.

[speaking Vietnamese]
Yeah.

[speaking Vietnamese]

Yeah, he's saying
that he's feeling much better.

He's feeling fine,
and he would like to go home.

[speaking Vietnamese]

On a city bus.

[speaking
Vietnamese]

Right.
Yeah, yeah.

He thinks, uh--
he thinks this man--

oh, yeah,
I guess he means me--

should go ahead of him.

I speak Vietnamese.

I'll be sitting right over here.
Yeah, you do that.

[man over P.A.]
Lupe to ICU, please.
Lupe.

A nosebleed, huh?

Uh-huh.

My stepbrother
had the same thing.

It turned out to be
a cerebral hemorrhage.

He was dead in a week.

(nurse)
Adrian Monk.

[man over P.A.]
Michael Crawford, 340.

A cerebral hemorrhage?
Mm.

Who told you that?

A very prominent patient.
I didn't get her name.

Well, I have
to respectfully disagree.

What you have
is a simple rupture

of the olfactory
membrane.

Yeah?
Your basic nosebleed.

I think I should be admitted,
just for a few days,

so you can be sure.

I'm gonna cauterize it.

Tilt your head back.

Here's the thing.

She said that her stepbrother
had the exact same symptoms.

And here's the thing--

it feels like
a cerebral hemorrhage.

Mr. Monk, I've seen
a cerebral hemorrhage.

I interned
with Graydon Whitcomb

for two years.

Who's that?

He's the head
of neurotrauma.

Let's call him.

I'll tell you what,
if this doesn't work,

I will take you upstairs
to see Dr. Whitcomb, okay?

Yeah.

Now sit back.

Okay, this might sting
a little bit.

Wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait.

Okay.
Okay.

All right.

Okay, wait, wait, wait--

Mr. Monk, I have
other patients.

Can't we just wait
till Natalie comes back?

Who's Natalie?

She's my assistant.
She's on a date.

Sure.

[sighs]

What time do you think
Natalie will be back?

Uh, probably, like--

Aah!
There, that's it.

You're done.
That's it?

Mm-hmm.

It stopped.

Unless--
Unless I'm out of blood.

That wasn't so terrible
was it?

No.
No.

Oh.
[beeper beeping]

I have to take this.

Can you find your way out?

Yes, thank you.

You're welcome.

Thank you.
You're welcome.

Thank you.
You're welcome.

Thank--
Thank you.

You're welcome.

[loudly]
Hello?

Hello?

[grunting]

"Whitcomb, 504."

[grunts]
Whitcomb, 504.

[man on P.A.]
Blue team to ICU, please.
Blue team, ICU.

[elevator bell dings]

[knocking]

Hello?

Uh, excuse me,
Dr. Whitcomb,

I know you're busy.

My name is Adrian Monk.

I saw a doctor downstairs,

but I would like
a second opinion.

I thought maybe
if I could check in

for two or three days,

you know, maybe you could run
some tests.

Dr. Whitcomb?

Ow, ow!

Ow, God!
Okay, I'm okay.

[pained grunts]

Captain.

What do you got?

There may have been
somebody else here.

Look at that
blood spatter.

Uh, no, no,
that was me.

Sorry.

You still bleeding?

Yeah.

What'd the doctor say?

She cauterized it,
but I don't think--

Sometimes you gotta
cauterize 'em again, Monk.

I used to get nosebleeds
all the time.

I'm not sure
it is a nosebleed.

Well, what else
could it be?

That's what I was
gonna ask him.

Captain, I talked
to the secretary.

What happened to your nose?
Ow!

Uhh!
It's okay.

It's all cool.

Yeah, it's all cool.

Monk, as long
as you're here, could you--

Yeah, yeah, sure.
Okay, no problem.

Empty bottles.

He took the pills,
but not the bottles?

There's a drug rehab center
downstairs.

We get addicts and junkies
in here all the time.

Security's a nightmare,
but we're a hospital.

We have to keep
the doors open.

Why didn't he just
take the bottles?

He wanted us to find these.

He wanted us
to think junkie.

Oh, yeah, see there?

He was wearing slippers,
rounded and smooth.

(Stottlemeyer)
A patient.

Not a junkie,
a patient.

(Stottlemeyer)
What do you got?

There's powder.

Yeah.

Smells like talcum powder.

(Randy)
Captain, look at this.

What is that?

That looks like
a seal.

That could be from
one of our oxygen tanks.

(Stottlemeyer)
"Room 623."

623.

All right, let's move!

Uh, Lieutenant,
that's the geriatric ward.

If he's a patient
up there,

he's at least 80 years old.

Well, then,
we better move fast.

(Randy)
All right, boys, 623.
Let's go.

623.

There's a stain.

Must be a leak
from upstairs.

Would you stand up straight?

It's just a nosebleed,
for God's sake.

I hate hospitals.

(Stottlemeyer)
Well, let's meet
our suspect.

"Hank Johansen.
82 years old."

He's getting a colectomy
on Wednesday morning.

[holster unsnaps]

I think you can secure
your weapon, Lieutenant.

That's a perfect match.

Get the tech guys down here.
We've found our murder weapon.

Yes, sir.

[dial pad beeping]

What do you think?
Is he the guy?

Uh, stranger things
have happened.

Although, I can't think
of one offhand.

Yes, they have.

Look at this.

What?

Looks like it might have
been readjusted.

Seems like it'd be too small
for this guy.

Aah!
What the hell are you doing?!

Uh--uh--uh--

Are you trying
to kiss me?

No, no, no.

No, sir.

(Stottlemeyer)
Mr. Johansen, hi.

I'm Captain Leland Stottlemeyer.

I'm a homicide detective.

This is Lieutenant Disher.

Who's your lady friend?

This is Adrian Monk.

He's a special consultant.

What happened
to your nose?
Uh--

You get shot?

Shot?
No, no.

But it is bleeding
pretty badly.

I caught a bullet in my nose
in Korea.

It still hurts
like a son of a bitch,

but you don't hear me
crying about it.

I'm not crying.

But you want to,
don't you?

Yeah, he wants to cry.
Yeah.

I'm gonna call you
Soft Serve.

Like the ice cream--
soft and squishy.

Thank you.

Mr. Johansen,

there was a homicide
last night

on the fifth floor.

We're investigating it.

Good for you.

Sir, a man was beaten
to death

with that oxygen tank.

Your oxygen tank.

What the hell
are you talking about?!

Where were you
last night

between the hours
of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?

[shouting]
Where do you think
I was?!

What is this,

your first day
with a new brain?

No.

I was here!

Hooked up
to this damn machine.

Beep beep beep.

You see Dr. Scott,
you tell him

I want this thing unhooked.

It's driving me mental.

Who--
Who's Dr. Scott?

Dr. Davis Scott
is taking out

half my colon
on Wednesday.

And he's the second-best surgeon
in California.

And that's not my opinion.
That's a fact.

Soft Serve,
I know my rights.

And you people can't
just waltz in here and--

[snoring]

Hey, Soft Serve,
come here.

Crime Scene's
on their way,

and the floor
is secure.

So what do you think?

Do you think somebody
came in here,

stole this guy's
oxygen tank,

and took it downstairs?

Why would they
bring it back?

Why would they
bring it back?

It's not possible.

Mr. Johansen
never left his room.

He's been
on the heart monitor all night.

Here's a cardiogram.

1:00 a.m. to 3:30.
No gaps, no interruptions.

Actually, all we know
for sure is that

he never took
the monitor off.

What if he took it
with him?

Randy, please.

No, it's possible.

I mean, all he had
to do was

strap the monitor
to his back.

And then climb
out the window,

shimmy down
one story,

unspooling 600 feet
of wire along the way.

He's 82 years old.

He's a veteran.

They were the Greatest
Generation.

You through?

(Monk)
Miss...

do you think Mr. Johansen

could lift an oxygen tank?

It must weigh
about 40 pounds.

You might want to ask his
primary physician, Dr. Scott.

And where is he?

I know exactly where
Dr. Scott is.

Room 694.

Down the hall, to the right.
Follow the signs.

He's been there
all day.

All day?

He's a patient
in the cardio ward.

He admitted himself
last night.

Thank you.

It's possible, though.

Well, sounds good,
Davis.

You know, Dr. Scott,
we could come back later,

when you're feeling better.

No, I feel great.

This is just
a precaution.

Last night I had a slight
substernal chest pain.

I checked myself in,

had them run
a couple of tests.

Is everything okay?

Never felt better.

First good night's sleep
I've had since med school.

You got lucky, Davis.

You gotta tap
the brakes.

Thank you, Mother.

Do you seriously think
Hank Johansen was involved

with what happened
last night?

Well,
we're not sure.

I can't imagine how.

He has progressive
rheumatoid arthritis

in both legs.

So you don't think
he could lift

a 40-pound
oxygen tank?

Hank Johansen?

He can't even
put his own pants on.

And besides, isn't he hooked up
to one of these?

I mean, you'd know
if he left the room.

I heard it was somebody
from the clinic.

A junkie.

Excuse me.
Excuse me, Doctor.

Doctors.

Would you mind
taking a look at this?

Have we met?

I'm sorry,
this is Adrian Monk.

He's unofficially
with us.

I see.

Well, it's not
my specialty,

but as long
as I'm here.

You're a lucky man.

Most people have to wait
three months

for this consultation.

Thank you.

Bleeding on and off?

On and on.

Does this hurt?
Yes, ow!

Ow, ow, ow!

I haven't done anything yet.

It was going to hurt.

I can tell.

Okay, I'm not going
to touch you.

Relax.

Here's the thing.

I went to
the emergency room--

Let me guess, they tried
to cauterize it,

and it didn't take.
Exactly.

And there was this woman
in the waiting room.

She said that
her stepbrother--

Had the exact same
symptom.
Yes.

And now you've
convinced yourself

there's some kind
of tumor.

You think it's a tumor?
He said tumor.

He said the word "tumor."

You heard him.
You heard him, and I knew it.

I knew it.
I can feel it.

It's right back here.

It's like the size
of a basketball.

For the love of God,
can I get a room?

Monk, that's not
what he meant.

Mr. Monk, you don't
have a tumor.

Relax.
Take a breath.

[breathes]

Now, these conditions
often have

psychological components.

Are you under
a lot of stress?

I wouldn't say that.
I would.

Mr. Monk,
I have good news.

[whispering]
You're not sick.

Really?

Mm-hmm.

You don't belong
in a hospital.

You belong on a beach,
with your feet up.

That's a lot of sand.

Get out of town tonight,
lower the heart rate.

Doctor's orders.

Book two seats.

And, please,
take him with you.

Okay, no signs
of arrhythmia,

so I'm kicking you
out of here.

This bed is for
sick people.

Thank you, Bradley.
See you at 2:00.

Well, you're not still
doing your rounds?

I have 18 patients in this joint
a lot sicker than me.

Somebody's gotta be
responsible.

Well, it's true
what they say.

Doctors make
the worst patients.

Good luck, gentlemen.

(Stottlemeyer)
Thank you.

(Monk)
Did you hurt yourself?

Oh, racquetball.

I missed the shot too.

That's what really hurt.

Is that talcum powder?

Yes.

And if you keep
over-focusing,

that nose is never gonna
shut itself off.

I have powder on my hands
all the time.

All doctors do.
It's in the latex gloves.

Now, if you'll
excuse me, gentlemen.

If you need me,
give me a call.

Thank you.

I think he's right.
It's all in your head.

Not all in my head
anymore.

See?

Where's Natalie?

I gave her
the day off.

That was nice of you.

Yeah, it was.

You were right.
There's a motive.

Dr. Scott's being sued
for malpractice.

The late Dr. Whitcomb
was scheduled

to testify against him.

Malpractice?
Yeah, a year ago.

Scott lost a patient
on the operating table.

Dr. Whitcomb claims--
or was about to claim--

that he saw Scott
popping pills

before the operation.

Amphetamines.

He would have lost
his license.

(Monk)
He did it.

Dr. Scott,
he's the guy.

Was it
the talcum powder?

The powder,

plus the bruise
on his leg.

It was still swollen.

Had to be less
than a day old.

Well, that could have been
from racquetball.

No, I don't think so.

I think he hit his leg
on the coffee table

in Dr. Whitcomb's office.

I hit it too.

Look.

See?

It's in the exact
same spot.

And, Randy, you hit it.
Remember?

Yeah.

Well, let's see it.

What are you doing?

Showing you the bruise.
What's he doing?

It's near your ankle.
Just pull up your pant leg.

Well, six of one, right?

It's not six of one.
Roll up your pant leg.

I'm already
unbuckled.

Would you!
Okay, fine.

Ow!

See, Dr. Scott was in
that office last night.

He was killing
Dr. Whitcomb.

How?

(Randy)
I mean, I talked
to the security guard

who was sitting in front
of Dr. Scott's room.

He said no one went in
or went out all night.

He did it.

Plus, he was hooked up
to that heart monitor.

I don't know how he did it,
but he did it.

He's the guy.

Nice and steady heartbeat
all night long.

He never left his room.

First Mr. Johansen,
now Dr. Scott.

Are you gonna want EKGs
on all our patients?

No, ma'am,

that will not
be necessary.

Okay, all right, look.

Okay, all right, Captain.

Captain, Captain,
Captain, listen.

I have an idea.

[whispering]
Okay, Dr. Scott
was hooked up

to the heart monitor,
right?

Yeah, that's right.

What if he took the monitor
with him?

What if he hooked it up
to a battery pack,

and he just carried it
with him?

The security guard said
he never left the room.

Out the window.
It's only one floor.

Interesting.

Interesting?

It's worth considering.

I said the exact same thing
a half an hour ago

about the old guy,
and you shot me down.

You didn't say
the same thing, Randy.

You said something
about a spool of cable.

800 feet of cable--

It was the same
basic idea,

except for the battery.

The battery
is a big part

of what Monk is saying.

No, it's the same thing.

What, if I say something,
it's a punch line,

if he says it,
he's a genius?

Would you explain to him
what you mean

about the battery?

All right, listen.

Okay, he's a doctor, right?

So, okay,

the monitor--
the monitor--

Okay, I got nothin',
all right?

Okay?
We're both wrong.

All right, he couldn't have
taken it with him.

But there's gotta be
something else.

I'm sorry, Captain.
It's this damn tumor.

I'm losing a lot
of blood here.

Okay, let's move on.

Randy and I are gonna
go down to security again,

and review
surveillance tapes.

What about me?

You're going home.
What?!

Monk, maybe you're right.

Maybe the guy
is the guy.

But he's also a doctor,

and he gave you
some very good advice.

You need to go home,
you need to relax.

You need
to turn your brain off.

Uh-uh, I can't.

I can't.

Go home.

Come on.

Something
from the bar?

Oh, no, thanks.

What happened
to your--

I slipped in the shower
and sprained my wrist.

No big deal.

Oh, and they're
making you work?

What was I gonna do?

They didn't have anybody
to cover for me.

The boss is a pretty
decent guy.

I didn't just want
to leave him hanging.

I'll be back to check on you
in a minute.

Taxi.

Hello, Shelly.

Dr. Scott.
Did you miss me?

They told me
you were sick.

Don't worry about me,
darling.

I am the
Rock of Gibraltar.

So are you.
[chuckling]

I brought some friends
with me.

The best

and the brightest.

Or so I'm told.

Mr. Collins, you're up.

She's your patient.

What do you see?

Okay,
rebound tenderness,

lukocytosis--

Your diagnosis, Doctor.

Acute diverticulitis.

Congratulations,
Mr. Collins,

you just killed
my favorite patient.

Mr. Collins
has conveniently overlooked

her persistent fever,

and right
lower-quadrant pain,

indicating what?

Indicating what?!

Appendicitis.

We may have a doctor
in the house after all.

Any questions?

Yes, I have a question.

Mr. Monk?

I thought
I sent you home.

I had some
unfinished business.

This is Mr. Adrian Monk.

He's with
the police department.

I'm sure you all heard
about what happened

to Graydon Whitcomb?

Could you take a look
at this, Doctor?

This is from an EKG.

Yes, I think I've seen
one or two of these.

Well, this was
from last night.

Midnight to 3:00 a.m.

There are some gaps
here and here.

It looks like
it was disconnected.

Eva, explain these gaps
to Mr. Monk.

There are gaps
like these

in any EKG.

Anytime a patient
rolls over

or changes position.

Well, what about
this one?

How long is this gap
right here?

8 seconds,
maybe ten.

10 seconds.

Not much help,
is it?

What's going on?

It's almost
too absurd.

You remember my patient
Hank Johansen?

82 years old,

osteoarthritis,
kidney failure.

He is Detective Monk's
number one suspect.

I think that may not
be blood, Mr. Monk.

I think you may be losing
cranial fluid.

[quiet chuckles]

Yeah, actually,

I have
a different suspect.

Well, that's a relief.

This one had a motive.

The victim was about
to testify against him

in a malpractice suit.

I hope your new suspect
wasn't hooked up

to a heart monitor too.

Because that would mean

he couldn't possibly
have done it.

Am I right?

It would also mean
you're wasting my time.

Your time may not
mean much, Mr. Monk,

but my time
in this hospital

is a precious commodity.

Go bleed
somewhere else.

Excuse me.

I'm out.

Oh, sorry.

Don't mind me.

There's a stain.

Yeah, there's
a leak upstairs.

I saw the same stain
in another room.

They're probably
connected,

or used to be.

A lot of these rooms
were divided up

a few years back.

Not my problem,
that's all I know.

[snap]

Soft Serve!

What the hell are you doing
in my closet?!

Uh--

How long you been
in there?!

That's it.

After my operation,
it's go time.

In the parking lot,
you and me.

Mr. Johansen,

who assigned you
to this room?

None of your damn business,
you moron.

Now, where's my wallet?

What did you do
with my wallet?

Sir, please!

This is very important.

I am investigating
a homicide here.

If you touched my wallet,
so help me, God,

you're gonna be bleeding
from more than your nose.

It was Dr. Scott,
wasn't it?

As a matter of fact it was.

There was a waiting list,

and he had to pull
a lot of strings

to get me in here.

Oh, there it is.

12, 13, 14.

Okay.

You're a lucky
son of a bitch.

Mr. Johansen,
listen to me!

Dr. Scott killed
Dr. Whitcomb.

And I know how
he did it.

(Monk)
He checked himself in
as a patient.

He knew this hospital.

He knew there had been
a renovation.

So he made sure
that at one time,

his room was connected
to your room.

At about 2:00,
he made his move.

He came in here
through the supply closet.

He knew you'd be sleeping.

He probably prescribed
your sedatives.

(Johansen)
As a matter of fact, he did.

(Monk)
Then he put his monitor
on your chest.

He took the oxygen tank,

and then he went
downstairs.

After the murder,
he came back here,

put his monitor back on,

and snuck back
into his room.

It was perfect.

Your heartbeat
was his alibi.

So, what do you think?

I'll tell you
what I think.

I owe you an apology.

Really?

Yeah, that would
explain everything.

Yes.

You know, you really are
a great detective.

But I need proof.

Yeah, that's the thing.
You need proof.

Yeah.

I've got it.

I've got it.

Okay, if I'm right,
which, you know, I am,

for about ten minutes,
during the murder,

your heartbeat,
and Dr. Scott's heartbeat,

are the exact same heartbeat.

All I have to do
is find those cardiograms.

Yeah.
Good thinking.

You better go.
It's very exciting.

Yeah.

I better use the door.

Dr. Scott, please.

Yes, it's very
important.

Dr. Scott,
this is Hank Johansen.

You know that
wack-job detective

Adrian Monk?

[chuckles]
Yeah.

He just jumped out
of my closet,

screaming that you had
killed some guy

with my oxygen tank.

[laughs]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.

You better do something
before he hurts somebody.

Yeah.

Yeah, yeah, I know
exactly where he is.

So the judge is laughing,

half the jury's laughing,
and I look down--

I'm still wearing
my slippers.

Oh.
Did you win the case?

Yeah.

And now they're
my lucky slippers.

I keep 'em
in my briefcase.

(man)
Clara?

(Clara)
Don't worry,
I got you.

(man)
I didn't know
where you were.

(Clara)
It's okay.

I'm right here.

I wouldn't just
walk away.

You know me better
than that.

[sighs]

Alex,

I'm so sorry.

You are so great,

but I have to go.

You're leaving?

My boss needs me.

Uh, how do you know.?

He always needs me.
I'm sorry.

[fly buzzing]

[fly buzzing closer]

[fly buzzing]

[bed motor clicks on]

You said you wanted
to be admitted.

Your prayers have
been answered, Mr. Monk.

No, you can't speak
or move.

Don't even try.

You're literally
wasting your breath.

I've injected 3ccs
of tribusonol

into your larynx.

Do you have any idea
what I do here every day?

How many lives
these hands have saved?

How many lives
they will save?

Hundreds, thousands.

That's my mission.

It's why I'm here.

I am the miracle man.

Do you think
I would let you,

former-Detective Monk,

or Dr. Graydon Whitcomb--
or anyone--

stop me?

Oh, by the way, I have
some good news for you.

I stopped
that pesky nosebleed.

[garbled mutter]
You're welcome.

I have some other news,
not quite so good.

You had an accident.

At least, that's
what your chart says.

You were in a stairwell,
you tripped.

You suffered
a concussion.

Possible nerve damage,
multiple fractures.

Ah, it gets worse.

I don't know
how this happened.

The name on this chart
is Dale Butterworth.

In four minutes,
the day nurse--

who is new to this floor--

is going to walk in,
read this chart,

and administer
a massive dose

if intravenous
tetracycline.

Yes, I know
about your allergy.

Unfortunately,
mistakes like this...

happen all the time.

[man over P.A.]
Lupe to ICU, please.

Lupe, ICU.

Hi.

Excuse me, I was looking
for Adrian Monk.

He was sitting
right over there.

He's been admitted.

He's been admitted?
Mm-hmm.

He's in Intensive Care.

For a nosebleed?

[knocks]

Mr. Monk?

My God.

Oh, my God, Mr. Monk,
I'm so sorry.

I can't believe this.
What happened?

They said you fell
down the stairs?

Mm--

Oh, it's all right.
I'm here.

I'll take good care
of you, okay?

Oh...

Hi.
How's he doing today?

I don't know.
I just got here.

(nurse)
Are you his wife?

No, I'm his assistant.

And his friend.

I think he's in
a lot of pain.

He's not very good
with pain.

Okay, well,
this should help.

[strained attempts
at speech]

(whispering)
What?

(barely audible)
Dr. Scott...

Dr.--
Dr. Scott?

(nurse)
That's his primary.

You're very lucky.
Dr. Scott's the greatest.

Did you hear that?
You have a great doctor.

Unh.

It's okay.
It's okay.

It's okay, it's okay.
Just relax, I've got you.

Give me your hand.
There you go, just relax.

He should have
some ice chips.

Okay, I'll get them.

It's okay.

Mr. Monk,
I just want to tell you

that I'm so sorry for
leaving you here this morning.

It will never happen again.

If you are ever
in trouble,

I will be there for you,
I promise.

Okay, let go.

Let go.
Let go.

I'll be right back.

(Natalie)
Nurse, excuse me.

I just want to thank you
for being so sweet to him.

But I wanted to ask you,

do you have
the kind of ice maker

that makes
round ice cubes?

Because he'd prefer that.

(nurse)
We might.

So how long have you worked
for Mr. Butterworth?

Who's Mr. Butterworth?

Oh, God.

[breathless]
It's okay.

Take it easy.
Take is easy.

One step at a time.

There you go.
There you go.

You're--you're scraping
the bag now.

Sorry, sorry,
sorry, sorry, sorry.

(Stottlemeyer)
It's a perfect match.

I'd like to see him try
to explain this to a jury.

It was my idea.

No, it's not, Randy.
It's completely different.

No, it was the same
basic idea.

Our next crime scene,
I'm not gonna say anything.

I'm just gonna
write everything down

and copyright it.

Yeah, you copyright
everything

in your notebook.

Maybe I will.

Ow!

Son of a preacher man!

Oh, God, you okay?
That's bleeding.

You want to go
back inside?

No, no, no, I'm fine.
Let's just go.

(Natalie)
Mr. Monk, it could
get infected.

Maybe we should just go
back in there.
No.

Natalie, no.

Can't do running
into the E.R.

about every little thing.

Let's just go.
Let's go.

Come on,
let's go home.

[door slams]
(Monk)
Ow!

Ow.

Captioning by Dave L
at CaptionMax
www.captionmax.com