Dylan (Greg Rikaart) has a monologue about what he has been through with a absolutely uncaring psychiatrist.
In commemoration of "The Analyst" a famous fourth season episode of the sitcom, Maude, where Maude (the late Bea Arthur) had a one-sided monologue with a cigarette smoking psychiatrist who was indifferent to her troubles, Dylan Harper also has a one sided monologue with a similarly uncaring, cigarette smoking psychiatrist. Look for Sheila Watkins, Abby Stevenson, Fernanda Guzman, Cara Niewoehner, Adam Harper and Roger Lambert to make cameo, non-dialogue appearances in this episode.
Scene[]
A psychiatrist's office somewhere at Mass General. Inside said office, Dylan Harper is talking with a psychiatrist......well, not so much talking with him, as the stuffy analyst, whose back is to us and to the camera, is merely listening....and he is not even doing THAT well. All the while, he is eating some kind of lunch which infuriates Dylan; while his hand is near a pack of cigarettes.
DYLAN: Doctor, I am sure you have a lot people parade in and out of this office like the St. Patrick's Day parade. Not that you would seem to care, anyway, judging from your bored attitude and lah-di-dah look on your face! But then again, people would look at me, and wonder what I would have to worry about! "Oh, what worries does HE have, what worries WOULD he have? He is a Harper, one of the biggest names in ALL of New England! He has it made in the shade!" Oh, man, what I would LOVE to tell those people. Just because I am one of the CEO's of one of the largest family-owned businesses in the country doesn't make me any more or less human than anybody else. I have grown up in luxury my whole life. I have never known any other life. My parents were great, they loved on me, spoiled me, lavished me with anything I wanted; my grandparents doted on me, as they would. But yet, because of me being a Harper, I also had a higher set of standards that I had to achieve. Some people don't seem to get that. People often wonder why that is. But they don't get it. Do you think I am right to be concerned about that?
(The psychiatrist shifts his position in the chair, to Dylan's annoyance)
DYLAN (annoyed): Oh, forgive me! I didn't realize I was boring you to death! I have questions and you are only concerned with stuffing your face and wanting to smoke one of those damned cigarettes! But I digress here. I am SURE you read my profile that Dr. Henderson sent you. Yes, like in everything I do, I cross my t's and dot all my i's. Always the safe and well-worn way. That is how the Harpers operate. That is the way we've ALWAYS operated. I am an attorney, a CEO, a spouse, a father, and everything else. I love everything I do. I throw my energy into all aspects of my life. What else can I do? Am I to just let things slide, while I try to catch up?
(The psychiatrist, ignoring Dylan and in clear defiance of the hospital rules, lights up a cigarette!)
DYLAN (infuriated): I am sure you don't care anything of the rules! Maybe I should let my friend, Abby Stevenson, you know, the Chief of Staff, or my cousin, Cara Niewoehner, know just exactly what it is you are doing. Can't you read the sign?! No SMOKING! Now, PUT the damned cigarette OUT!
(The psychiatrist stubs out the cigarette)
DYLAN: Good. Thank you. I have never smoked in my life. Maybe that is a good thing. I am sure that my monologue is boring you to tears.
(The P-psychiatrist, as the Animaniacs would call him, nods eagerly)
DYLAN: Well! You don't have to be so damned agreeable! Especially about THAT! It is patently clear that my poor pitiable life means near nothing to you. You've not known, have you, what I have been through. I was referred to you by Dr. Henderson, who said you were a top flight psychiatrist, and yet, I am talking to you, and all you are doing is doodling on your stupid note pad, and smoking cigarettes, and stuffing your face! I have NEVER been treated with that kind of disrespect!
(The psychiatrist, not caring, just continues to stuff his face!)
DYLAN (irritated): Oh, but of course! Don't let me interrupt your feast! I am sure Italian gelato and a huge heaping plate of ziti from the hospital cafeteria is more important and a lot more interesting than your patients. Tell me, Doctor, does it even bother you that someone has to come to you for help?! Or that someone would even WANT to come to you for help, given your obvious lack of empathy or even lack of interest?! I wouldn't recommend you to even give therapy for a dog! You seem to think that what I have been through is piddling! If you even BOTHERED to look at my chart, which you have not even OPENED once, since I have been in here, you will see what I have been through! I have been raped twice; assaulted several times, I nearly have a heart attack because some damned bitch who murdered my cousin, right here in THIS hospital, thought she was better than the rest of us! And you wonder why I am so hostile towards you?! You're damned right, I am hostile towards you! All you are doing is making me even more stressed. Or do you just LOVE causing people to have more stress?!
(The psychiatrist smirks)
DYLAN (his patience is wearing thin): I am SO glad that you find my problems funny! I know what you are thinking. The idle rich, with their drama! Well, I will have you know, you wretched QUACK, that the rich have their troubles as well. Oh, I know what you are thinking. What kind of caviar should we have with the hors d'oevres; what kind of claret wine would be perfect with fish; what kind of sauce to have with the pasta, pesto or marinara? And oh, what kind of clothes should we wear for dinner? Should my cousin wear diamonds or gold?! And never ever drink from the finger bowl! Well, for your information, DOCTOR, and I use that term loosely, like the rest of the hoi polloi, we have our days of sadness! We feel, we hurt, we have our bad days! And you dare to sit in judgment of me! You, with your diplomas from Vienna and Salzburg! What, no Heidelberg?! Oh, perish the thought! You have absolutely NO clue of what it is like! I just became a father to five year old twins, and my son and daughter have more class and decency than you do! I know what you are thinking! "When will this hour be over, so this nitwit can get out of my office and I can cram more food in my face!" I thank God that I have two wonderful kids that I adore and they mean the world to me! I have a husband that I have never been more in love with in my life, he's been a solid rock to me; my stepmother, who was more of a mom to me than even my birth mother! My DEAD birth mother! I have siblings, cousins, in-laws, and every other kind of connection to families so numerous that they would be a veritable ARMY, and you just sit there, with your plate of food; your bowl of imported gelato, and your damned pack of cigarettes, which I KNOW you want to light one, in defiance of the hospital rules.
(The psychiatrist laughs at him! Which really sends Dylan into a rage! He begins to cry, to the psychiatrist's utter amusement)
DYLAN (tears falling down his face): Now THAT is really classy! Laughing at someone's troubles! And my tears really make you laugh all the more! You truly ARE unprofessional! I am standing here crying and you are just laughing at me, and making me feel worse! You think my problems are so minor and so trifling that you just had to open some time so this crazy rich man can vent and rant and rave! You truly do not realize the power my family wields in this city! And what we don't wield, others do! You can sit there like a bump on a log, and smoke cigarettes, and stuff your already fat face until the cows come home for all I care! I am in pain, I hurt, and yet, you just sit there and laugh and mock me! You think I don't know enough doctors on the staff of this hospital that can remove your fat little backside on my say so?! I don't like to use my power as a Harper that way! I am always thinking that I am a little bit more reasonable than other rich people, who would be in the same position as I am right now, would be. But when I get pushed, then I can and WILL use my family's power, name and money, and believe me, you don't want to push me! You dismiss me as an airhead, but I assure you, I can sting.
(The psychiatrist shrugs, not caring)
DYLAN (in a cold voice): Your egotism and your lack of compassion really anger me, you wretch! Somewhere along the line, Doctor, you have lost your humanity! Where, I don't know, and why you lost it, I don't care to know. One day, and I pray it will be sooner than later, I hope you realize that you have lost any sense of humanity, and you get to look in the mirror one morning and you are sickened at the face that looks back at you! I have never been one to really criticize the way someone does a job, but I have never been more disgusted with the way you treat your own patients. I pity the rest of your patients! I truly do! I pity that they have to deal with a fat, bloated oaf of a p-psychiatrist who doesn't really give a flying damn about their emotional health and their well being! Apparently they only serve just to amuse you and so you can soak them for their money! Well, I will tell you this, you do NOT amuse me, "Doctor", all you do is just piss me off! I will also tell you this, and I mean this sincerely, the next psychiatrist I do find, I hope that he or she has a bit MORE compassion and caring than you have. I felt more at home in a DEEP FREEZE UNIT than I have felt in this office today! And you think that my opinion means nothing, because you are an almighty doctor! Well, let me tell YOU something, "Doctor", I am going to speak to my friend, Abby Stevenson, the chief of staff, and she will fix your clock! And I will talk with my cousin, Cara Niewoehner, and she will see what is going on! Or even more, I will speak with Fernanda Guzman! She has an office on this floor, if I am not mistaken?!
(The psychiatrist gets a look of real paralyzing fear, the first real emotion he has felt the whole time. Apparently Dylan hit a nerve.)
DYLAN: Oh, YOU'RE scared now?! Did the poor little airhead you so like to dismiss strike a rather uncomfortable nerve?! Good! I am glad I did! You should be scared! REAL scared! You messed with the wrong family! I warned you, I have power and I am not afraid to use it!
(The psychiatrist gives Dylan a pleading look. Dylan relents to his disgust.)
DYLAN (sickened): Oh, good GRIEF! I don't get it! When someone gives me that kind of look, I always back down! All right, I will NOT speak to Abby, Fernanda or Cara. But, I think I will not ever come back to your office again! I daresay I will find a better psychiatrist than you are. And as I said, I hope the NEXT psychiatrist, whoever he or she may be, is better than you were. Good bye! And GOOD RIDDANCE!
(Dylan grabs his chart and his coat and other things and storms out of the office, slamming the door as hard as he could. The Psychiatrist, who didn't even notice or even cared if he had noticed, just returns to eating his gelato and prepares to smoke another cigarette.)
(Outside the office, a few minutes later, a really upset Dylan sits down in a chair and sobs. Fernanda Guzman looks out of her nearby office, and is very worried. She is about to come out, when she sees some people. Coming down the hall we see Cara, Sheila, Roger and Adam. Fernanda is relieved that Dylan will be getting some help. She joins the group. Cara and the others see him in tears. None of the four have any dialogue today, and neither does Fernanda, but they come around to him and comfort him. Roger holds his cousin close and gently brushes his hair, his tried and true gesture that calms him down. Adam puts his arm around Dylan and gently kisses his cheek. Sheila gently touches his face, and grabbing a tissue wipes his tears, as she had done when they were little. Cara gives him a hug. Fernanda goes into her office and she writes out a prescription and gives it to Sheila, telling her to get it filled for Dylan. She would personally fast track it. They escort him to the elevator. Abby Stevenson, who also doesn't have any dialogue today, looks at them concerned. Sheila shakes her head as if to say that the shrink had made him cry. Abby has a quick conference with Fernanda, who tells her what happened. Abby looks at the psychiatrist's office, sizes up what happened to her friend, and then realizes what she has to do. A few minutes later, she and Fernanda angrily shove the corpulent psychiatrist out of his office. Apparently, Abby has fired him and Fernanda is shooting him a nasty glare. He storms off in anger. Later on, Abby and Fernanda have an office crew come in and clean and fumigate the entire office. The scene fades.)