Genre-mixing, doctor-y mumbo-jumbo abounds as The Guy Who Hit The Guy Who Isn't Stephen King is wheeled into ICU. A younger attending nurse (or maybe medical student I don't judge) fumbles with a needle and ends up with face full of blood. As she swoons and passes out, we pan to the window of the room to find a curious dead girl looking in. She wonders where her twin sister is, so that they might suggest to Danny that they go somewhere and play.
"I don't want to put him in with Hook's patient, but right now it's the only spot it ICU we've got," one of the doctors skywrites across the heavens, lest the mutant mole people and halfwits they think make up their audience not notice said occasion when this actually, y'know, occasions. Tsk tsk. Show, don't tell, Mr. King.
Just so you're aware of it? Diane Ladd and Diane Lane? Are two unbelievably different people. I'm just telling you this, PSA-style, in case you thought they were the same person and were extremely disappointed to find out that the one you thought might be on this show was, in fact, not. But then again, anyone who appeared on an episode of Battle of the Network Stars is good enough for me. This Diane, who is not now and never has been in A Walk on the Moon, rearranges chairs in an empty solarium and places a sheer red cloth over a lamp to up the inherent spooky factor of a solarium that is already, I don't think I need to tell you, 75 percent haunted with a lingering chance of ghooooooosts. Made brave from the sugar rush of a real live big-boy prune Danish, the younger Druse tells his blankly-staring, Moonie-smiling mother, "Mama, this isn't a good idea. Not with that Dr. Stegman mad at you." Diane Not Lane just laughs and laughs, because a thimble of crazy equals a whole truckload of actual characteristics, according to The Quirky Television Programming Code.
A nurse enters to attend to Druse's non-dead, colon-blocked, blind gentleman friend from last week, noticing on her trip through the room that the mise en scene is poised to go full-on light-as-a-feather-stiff-as-a-board at a thirteen-year-old girl's slumber party. "I'd watch out for Stegman, if I were you," Nurse Condescending Reiteration tells us, and Bobby responds that he already told her that. Will someone please disengage the "track all changes" feature on the Final Draft that generated this script? We know what happened. We were there watching. We only need to see it so many times. Say, eleven. Druse says she's spent much of her life communicating with the spirit world, and she knows that there is "a little girl, not at rest" somewhere in the hospital. But the unnamed nurse administers herself 100 CCs of "talking points," sticking both to the script and the script from sixteen pages ago, vamping, "Don't let Stegman catch you talking to the spirits." The nurse leaves. A leave is taken by the nurse. The nurse leaves leavingly. Or so I imagine it reads in the script, if the stage directions are written in any way similar to this dialogue.