As someone who works in healthcare, this take is so important to me.
Real life isn’t like what’s on TV, not even in this show. But this show is pretty damn close. You might not like a character, or a character’s reaction to a situation, be it a patient, or a doctor, or a kid, or the kid’s parent. You might not enjoy gray areas. God knows I don’t (then why did I pick healthcare ? …God knows.). But the fact is that these things happen in real life. These patients pop up. Bigots, racists, addicts, Doctor Googles, even good people who are just going through a bad thing, who can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel yet… the list goes on. Same goes for shitty coworkers who break rules or make decisions you wouldn’t have made in an emergency or are just. fucking annoying.
The reality of healthcare, of life, is that the world doesn’t care about your moral compass, about your guidelines or requisite actions, about what you think should happen in a given scenario. Simulations and hypothetical ethical debates can only take you so far. People are sick. People are dying. People are mean about these things because they’re scared. In my experience, it’s best to try to be kind. If you can’t be kind, be civil. If you can’t be civil, find a coworker or friend who can. Apply this to everyone — patients and coworkers and people in general. However, no matter how much you wish it might, your kindness can’t change the way the world is. The gray areas and moral discrepancies won’t just disappear because you don’t want to see them. And there’s nothing you can change about that. You have to work through it anyway. Because people are sick and people are dying and you have to be their last hope.
Yeah, okay sure. Maybe your coworker stole drugs from the hospital. He’s in recovery now, and he’s trying to make amends, and you still don’t want anything to do with him, and that has to be fine.
Yeah, your sister didn’t tell you about her sort of long-term boyfriend (even though you’ve been prioritizing her life over yours for as long as you can remember, and fuck, it hurts that she’s not telling you things you thought she’d always tell you first), and that has to be fine.
Yeah, your best friend told your attending about your time at the farm and now you’re being scolded for “not setting boundaries” by the same man who also asked you to house-sit while he’s on his sabbatical. Plus, he said you could keep the house if he didn’t come back (definitely not a suicide mission, though, don’t worry!), and that has to be fine (actually, idk, I feel like you should maybe ask a friend on this one, we don’t need another person dying) (is that crossing a boundary?) (does anyone care if it means Robby lives??) (oh look, another gray area).
Yeah, your boss just yelled at you in front of a bunch of people while you were having a panic attack because your fucking mom won’t leave you the fuck alone and you’re at a loss because this has never happened to you before and you just want to do your best, and that has to be fine.
Yeah, you’re having a terrible shift because of course you are, of course this is happening right as you’re about to k*ll yourself leave and you’re shouting even though you don’t really mean to, and that has to be fine.
Even the lines you’ve drawn in the sand aren’t permanent. They’re washed away in the next swell of the tide and there’s nothing you can do. Because real life doesn’t care. None of it fucking matters. Real life is so short, and it is so precious. You can’t afford to lose your mind about things that won’t matter by the time your next shift starts. Someone said their goodbyes to a loved one four minutes and thirty-eight seconds ago, and you had to watch tears slide down their cheeks, to stand there supportively as they felt the hand of your patient go cold, and oh god you just can’t think about anything else, but a new patient just got rolled into that room and you have to go help them.
Petty grudges don’t hold water against things like that. Stupid conflicts about being handed the wrong size gloves or someone poaching a patient from you are nothing compared to the way you can’t breathe listening to someone whisper, “I love you, thank you, I forgive you, please forgive me.” Nothing, compared to the adrenaline rush of having been almost strangled by a patient who’s lost all semblance of patience and humanity because they’re scared and tired of waiting for answers. Nothing, compared to the way your heart seizes in your chest because you’re already overwhelmed when that damn bell rings again but then, “Louie got his wings!” and suddenly the air is gone from your lungs and oh, you’re crying (me too, it’s okay).
Trinity can hate Langdon for what happened the day of PittFest. Langdon can know what he did was wrong, and he can be in the process of recovering, and he can be trying his best. Mel can be angry that her sister didn’t tell her about Adam, and Becca can be angry about Mel trying to control everything for her. Mel can also be mad that she’s put her life on hold for her sister, only to realize that she’s been “wasting” time. Samira can be irritated with her mom for being insane and with Robby for being a dick, and she can be a damn good doctor who really, truly cares about her patients, despite all of the external pressure she’s feeling. Whitaker can care about Amy and still know that he’s crossing lines he probably shouldn’t be. Robby can be cruel and snappy even though he knows he’s supposed to be professional and he knows that it’s his own fault, but he’s just so angry and he just can’t stomach talking to anyone about it in a meaningful way so he takes it out on others. Real. People. Are. Messy.
The practice of medicine, of saving lives, is just that — practice. There’s no consistency, no one-size-fits-all solution, no absolutes or perfection. Not in your patients, not in your cases, not in your coworkers, and certainly not in yourself. To be human is to be unique and flawed and complex. You have to let these characters have their humanity. Let them be real. And then, you have to let the compassion you discover for them become compassion for everyone else, no matter who they are or where they come from or what they’ve done. Let yourself have compassion and hope, too, while you’re at it. These standards we’re holding ourselves and each other to aren’t always reasonable.
I know, I know — “but Lillz, what about—“ I don’t care. I can’t. Real life is too fucking short. There is nuance and there are flaws and there are angry words exchanged and there are bad decisions made. But there are also lives saved. Families restored. Love and light and healing and hope. Do you get it now? People are sick and people are dying and you get to try to give them hope. Isn’t that the most important thing? Isn’t that the point?
Let yourself hope that the human condition is naturally good. When it isn’t — when people are mean and angry and scared — let yourself hope you can heal that part of them. Let yourself hope that you can find a gray area and shed light on it. Let yourself hope for better. Sometimes, that’s all you can do. I promise you, it’s enough. You just have to have compassion and hope. Everyone else will catch on. I promise.
And as for The Pitt, and other shows like it, when characters are real enough to have flaws and strengths and darknesses and lights, let them. It’s so important to know that this is how the world is. How else can we have hope for what the world could become?
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