The first 200 lines.
Keeping watch?
She's your sister?
What's your name, son?
Maximus Leonard Goodwin.
That's a nice name.
Do people call you Max?
How can I help?
And from that moment...
Because of those words,
I knew I was gonna be a doctor.
And, um,
well, I share this with you now not just so you can
imagine me as an adorable little five-year-old,
but, um, because...
I want you to remember what that moment was for you,
when you knew this was gonna be your calling.
Because this job can wear you down.
Even on the best days, takes a toll on your heart.
If you find yourself in a tough moment,
thinking that all is lost,
feeling like what you do doesn't matter,
I want you to remember why you became a doctor
in the first place.
And let that moment
be your North Star.
Uh, I never imagined I'd be standing here
saying goodbye to this hospital,
to this incredible group of people.
But I think I did what I came here to do...
Which is to make New Amsterdam a place of hope
for those who need it most.
And now the time has come for new challenges.
As many of you know, I'll be running Global Health Policy
at the World Health Organization in Geneva.
Even bigger systems to break
and hopefully put back together stronger.
But, uh,
I'm gonna miss each and every one of you.
And I wish I could stay for even one more day.
But I made a very special promise
to a very special person.
And, uh, I have to keep it.
Today is the annual Manhattan Mermaid Parade,
and this year, we are not gonna miss it.
So, um...
I don't know what to say other than, uh,
thank you...
For everything.
Dr. Max Goodwin.
When you are in the market
for solid information, I say go to the source.
- Sorry? - Uh, information.
It's the information booth.
You...
You got what I need?
Are you lost?
No. Uh, no.
I'm just looking for my assistant,
who I was supposed to meet here,
but I'm seeing no sign of her.
And I am, uh, kind of sweaty from my commute,
so I'm thinking I need to go take a cold shower
so that I can make a good first impression
on everybody that I meet, with the exception of...
What's your name?
- Bart. - With the exception of Bart,
who has already seen me in my natural state:
lost, harried, and slightly dewy with perspiration.
Who are you again?
I'm the new medical director of New Amsterdam.
Yulia Salenko, female, 32, tachy in the field.
Casey, check her heart rate.
Hi, Yulia. I'm Dr. Bloom.
Uh, we're just gonna take some vitals, okay?
I'm sorry.
Don't be sorry.
Much rather be taking care of you
than listening to Dr. Walsh rant about inflation.
The Fed's out of control, and you know it.
Let's move.
She's hypotensive and warm to the touch.
Yeah, her spleen's enlarged.
- Possible endocarditis? - I was thinking stroke.
Maybe part of a broader infection?
Never seen anything like this before.
Look at her eyes.
Uh, I'm sorry, can you go wait over there
for me, please, by the nurses' station?
Let him stay with me, please.
He'll be close by, I promise.
I just need the space to work, okay?
Hey. Hey, bud, we're gonna hang over here.
- It's okay, Dimi. - Mama's right here.
I think she's got fluid in her lungs.
Okay, this didn't happen overnight.
Um, Yulia,
how long have you been feeling sick like this for?
Weeks.
But we don't have any insurance.
I kept thinking it would get better, but...
this morning when I was brushing my teeth,
there was all this blood.
What's happening to me?
I don't know.
But we're gonna figure it out.
Walsh, let's start fluids.
Casey, page Wilder now.
Your labs showed
abnormally low cell counts, Ms. Salenko.
I'm not sure what's making you so sick,
but I would like to biopsy your bone marrow.
That's gonna give us a few more clues.
She's good to go.
Okay.
Hey.
We've numbed your mom's back,
but, you know, the needles are scary.
You want to wait outside for this part?
After we came to America, my son stopped speaking.
Before, he was such a little chatterbox.
But I haven't heard his voice in a year.
You can stay if you want.
Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to, okay?
If I die,
who will take care of my son?
I'm all he has.
What do you see?
Well, her biopsy clearly shows extreme phagocytosis.
Can you spell that?
Um, P-H-G...
P-H-A... no, actually, I... I can't. I'm sorry.
Her white blood cells are eating
- all of her other blood cells. - You're thinking
hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis?
Come on, guys.
Just say HLH.
Uh, HLH is extremely rare.
I know. I mean, we barely
even touched on it in med school.
Yeah, but it's the only thing that explains her symptoms.
I mean, enlarged spleen, excessive bleeding,
abdominal pain.
And it is almost always fatal.
I mean, I've never even seen a case before,
let alone treated one successfully.
I have treated one
but not successfully.
Same.
I only know of one doctor who's been successful.
Well, that's a start.
Well, yeah, but I don't want to call him in.
Why?
How can I help?
Conco's at 23! LB!
- Buy! Buy! - Buy!
Buy!
Today was insane, man.
You know, I... I thought last year was peak,
but 2008, get ready.
Yo, it's gonna be next level.
Ugh.
- Yo, I... I'm gonna buy me a boat. - Ugh.
Pete, you get motion sickness going down an escalator.
So I'll snort Dramamine.
Wh-what are you gonna do with all your dough?
I don't know.
Spare some change?
- Uh, yeah. - Yo, get a job, man.
- Uh... - Gross.
Hey, hey.
Here.
God bless you.
You're just enabling him, you know.
You're a real dirtbag, you know, Pete?
It's all part of my charm.
- You gonna get that? - No.
It's my druggie sister.
Oh, my God.
Call 911.
Uh... um, uh, excuse me!
Excuse me, can you help me?
Someone help, please! I think he needs CPR!
Somebody help me, please!
Can somebody help?
Come on. Somebody, some...
Oh, my God.
Oh, God.
I don't know how to help you.
I don't know how to help.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Hey.
Our friends down in the cafeteria tell me
it's chocolate chip cookie day.
And I can hook you up, brother.
How many you want, hmm?
Two, three?
I'm working my best material,
but the kid's not giving me anything.
I got this.
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