The Pitt Recap: Dr. SWAT

The Pitt is giving the people what they want. We got a second season within a year of the first one ending. Its gross-out factor continues to delight. Dana’s accent rules the ER and our hearts. (“Baby Jane Doe” even gets a repeat in this episode, for the fans.) And here in the seventh episode, another gift: We don’t have to wait until the night shift or some major catastrophe strikes PTMC to run into Dr. Abbot. It’s 1 p.m. and he has already strolled on in to the ER.

Okay, well, it’s less of a stroll and more of a brisk walk while at the side of his fellow SWAT team member who was gunned down in a botched robbery situation. In case that sentence didn’t fully convey this idea: Not only is Dr. Abbot back, he is doing all of the most Abbot things imaginable. So, yes, when he isn’t working a shift in the ER, he is a SWAT physician, who goes into the field to treat the team if injuries arise. The man can’t sit around with just one stressful job, he must collect all of them. In this instance, his colleague Officer Hiro was hit in the field, and while Abbot intubated him (under fire, mind you), the intubation fails and they need to figure out another route to get this guy a proper airway. There’s just something about seeing bubbles come out of a wound in a man’s throat that gets my juices going, you know? Well, that and the fact that yet again we get to watch Abbot and Robby solve an emergent airway problem. This is part of their special bond. Or kink. Or both! Either way, our guys come through and Hiro is taken upstairs to the OR.

But this is not the end of PTMC’s welcome dose of Abbot. This man is somehow both so cool and collected and his mere presence can stir up some shit. Robby has spent the whole morning resenting Dr. Al-Hashimi, and within just a few minutes, she and Abbot are talking war stories — Al-Hashimi spent time in a maternity ward in Kabul, and Abbot specifically notes the tragedy of the 2020 attack on the Dasht-e-Barchi hospital. She suggests they get drinks some time, and when she leaves, Abbot tells Robby that she seems cool. Robby’s snappy “yep, maybe” is real fuel for all petty bitches out there.

And do not think for one second I haven’t been replaying that Abbot-Mohan scene over and over in my little brain since it first set up camp there. I knew this show was getting horny in season two! Admittedly, it is a low bar to clear from season one, and Mohan dressing Abbot’s wound on his back from a bullet graze while he’s shirtless isn’t, like, dripping in tension, but something is there, okay? And if you don’t get it from the moment when Mohan confides in Abbot about DKA patient Orlando leaving the hospital before taking her up on her offer to give him all the at-home supplies she can muster, and he doesn’t hesitate to say he’ll pay for her to get those supplies to Orlando; if you don’t get it from the moment Abbot insists on keeping his treatment off the books and Mohan agrees it can be their little secret; well, you must have gotten it from that shot of Robby’s confused face as he walks by the room and takes in the scene. If only he had his little glasses on, then we’d really be cooking.

While all of that is well and good (so, so good), the more interesting aspect of Abbot’s appearance is that while Dana is somewhat of a Robby caretaker, it’s Abbot who can really force Robby to confront some issues he may be trying to ignore. It couldn’t come at a better time, honestly, since in this hour the tension between Robby and Langdon really takes a turn.

Listen, could Langdon have selected a better moment to make his big apology than while the two of them are on the roof and a helicopter with an emergent patient is landing? Totally. For instance, any time Langdon doesn’t have to scream so that Robby can actually hear him say he knows he broke Robby’s trust and their patients’ trust and he’s really fucking sorry might be a better choice. But Langdon is nervous and wants to get it out there, so it’s hard to blame him. Robby’s poor choice of a response is less fear based and more induced by anger and hurt. He does tell Langdon that he’s glad he has gotten the help he needs — again, this is all while the helicopter is landing — but then lays out his truth: He doesn’t think he wants Langdon working in his ER. You can almost see the actual impact of that revelation landing on Langdon. He doesn’t recover. As they get the patient — a man who was checking a water-ski line on a boat when his drunk friend turned on said boat and this guy got caught in the propeller — off the helipad and into a trauma room, Langdon remains flustered. He can’t get a grip. Thankfully, Mel is there, too, and she winds up filling in blanks when Langdon can’t find his words. The propeller guy will miraculously be mostly okay, but it’s unclear if Langdon will be.

I’m not one of Robby’s many therapists, nor anyone’s therapist, but while Langdon definitely deserves to suffer consequences for his actions and he did truly betray Robby, it seems like Robby might be taking some of his anger and pain from the PittFest day and tossing it on his former mentee. It’s not like Robby has become some sort of monster or anything. He’s still our fearless leader. He’s still as empathetic as ever. Him assuring an increasingly nervous Mel that she’ll do fine on her deposition and that she’s one of the best residents he’s ever come across? Lovely. (Mel’s giddy reaction? Even better.) When Santos tells him about Whitaker taking up with the dead farmer’s wife and spending a lot of time on the hospital street-team initiative, she admits she’s worried he’ll be taken advantage of because he’s “just a fucking Huckleberry.” (It’s nice to see The Pitt once again reminding us that Santos contains multitudes.) His response is that he’ll talk to Whitaker about it because, after all, “He’s our fucking Huckleberry.” I didn’t think I could be more obsessed with Dr. Michael Rabinavitch, and then he goes and says something like that, and honestly how dare he.

The way Robby is handling the increasingly complicated situation with hospice patient Roxie is also an exemplary display of his empathy. Roxie doesn’t want to leave the hospital now — she wants to be admitted. This upsets her husband, Paul, who has returned with his and Roxie’s two young sons. Eventually, Roxie is very explicit as to why she doesn’t want to go home: If she dies in that house, she worries it will no longer be a happy home for her husband and kids — they’ll be living with her “ghost.” The guilt this woman feels is massive. Paul, of course disagrees, and he tearfully pleads with Robby and McKay to do something. They’ve already explained to Roxie how she’ll be much more comfortable at home, away from the crowded, noisy ER where she might have to stay until they can get her a bed upstairs, and they can’t do much more than that. Robby is Roxie’s doctor, but he takes time to be there for Paul, too: “Supporting her and her choices is the most remarkable gift you can give at this time,” Robby assures him. Giving her control and respecting what she wants is helping her, even if it doesn’t feel like that. And while that defuses the situation for the moment, Robby knowingly shakes his head at McKay as they walk away — this is bad and only going to get harder.

Robby doesn’t have the lock on empathy at PTMC: We should talk about how Dana handles a patient named Ilana Miller, a young woman who comes to the ER after being sexually assaulted by a friend at a barbecue. Dana is the only SANE — Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner — on staff, so she hands Princess her charge-nurse duties and spends the next hour with Ilana. The Pitt walks us through the intake of a sexual-assault victim and a rape kit exam step-by-step. Ilana is taken to a quiet room out of the way and meets with Al-Hashimi, but then Dana takes over the entire process. She oozes empathy and care as she examines Ilana — who is putting on a brave face but barely holding it together — by way of an otherwise cold, methodical process. It’s Dana who is collecting Ilana’s clothes and taking swabs of parts of her body, but Dana wants Ilana to know that she is in control, she can stop this at any time. Ilana is, understandably, not the most forthcoming or open as she grapples with what she has been through, but it’s not long before you can see that she trusts Dana. When the Pittsburgh Action Against Rape (PAAR) advocate arrives to offer support and ask some questions, Ilana looks to Dana for direction on what to do and how to answer. The only thing in the world making Ilana feel safe in this moment is Dana. When they reach the external and internal vaginal examinations, Ilana needs to stop. Emma takes her for some air. Dana is legally obligated to stay in the room where the exam is taking place, and now alone for the first time since Ilana came in, Dana tries and fails to hold back tears; she has to release every feeling she’s been trying to suppress in order to do her job.

All of our medical professionals are juggling a lot, both in regards to patients and emotions, and surprise, surprise, things are about to get much more chaotic. The big boss, hospital CEO Trent Norris, arrives in his casual Fourth of July barbecue shorts to tell everyone who is working this holiday that Westbridge has suffered a cyberattack and a second hospital was hit, too. Those patients are thankfully being redirected to another hospital, but not only is PTMC still getting Westbridge’s diversions, it also remains vulnerable to an attack, which means they are preemptively shutting down all computer systems including patient registration, electronic health records, radiology interfaces, and you know, the internet in general. Oh, and they are going to do it right … now. Norris apparently relayed the news to Al-Hashimi (not Robby), and she didn’t demand at least, like, five minutes to allow everyone to write a few things down? Whitaker grabs a photo of the board at the last second, but that’s about all they have time for. Gird your loins people, The Pitt is going analog.

• The mystery around Dr. Al-Hashimi continues! After meeting with Jackson Davis’s parents and informing them about their son’s involuntary psych hold and his report that he’s hearing voices, she goes all dead eyes on us again. This time, she locks herself in the bathroom and makes a call to a doctor in the Pittsburgh Neuroscience Group of whom she is a patient. She needs to see him as soon as possible.

• I fear this story line with Harlow is going to turn into a crisis real fast. Santos is in and out of her room as they deal with a glitchy virtual interpreter, and when that fails completely, Santos writes down about four words informing Harlow she wants to get her a CT “just in case” and leaves her scared and frustrated with no answers. They finally get Harlow a new in-person interpreter … only for Santos to leave again for something more urgent.

• Santos does have some wins in this episode — and gets multiple words of affirmation from Al-Hashimi, if you can believe — but I’m partial to her scene with a screaming Baby Jane Doe. Santos swears she can’t stand babies, especially of the crying variety, but while alone with Jane Doe, she sings her a sweet lullaby in Tagalog to calm her. I’ve been wondering if they’d figure out a way to work Isa Briones’s singing skills into this show somehow, and this was perfect execution.

• Another Santos note: The Pitt gives us a quick shot of her asleep in the bathroom, but it’s enough to reveal some scars on her thigh that seem to be evidence of some self-harm either past or present.

• Javadi’s dad appears and he is a delight, and while I do not think his daughter is meant for dermatology, it’s nice to see that he’s simply trying to show her some residency options.

• I love how much confidence Javadi has this season in regards to handling patients. Her chat with Jada, who freaks out after her parents reveal they’ve kept a family history of mental illness from her and her brother, is kind and insightful and much more helpful than anything else any of the more seasoned docs have offered this woman.