In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description! Finished? Click here to close.
It's night shift in the ER this week, and the absurd script massage to explain why the whole cast suddenly switched shifts is more absurd and noticeable than the fact that the whole cast suddenly switched shifts. Good thing the dialogue and guest stars -- not to mention Thor, and Zoey's many little moments -- are so hilarious this week, because otherwise, with the intense development in the Grace story, the heavy parallels between Jackie and her patients, and the networky insulting explanations of things, this might not have been the most enjoyable episode so far.
Instead, it is. Or at least since the third one. There's even a little slapstick, if you're into that: Mrs. Akalitus intervenes as Jackie tries to help a lupus patient's 10-year-old daughter bend the rules, and eventually tasers herself. It's hilarious, but the outcome -- a formal declaration of war, basically -- is a little chilling.
The rest of the episode is basically a series of unfortunate attempts to eat a midnight lunch. First, to get some afternoon delight with Eddie, Jackie begs off dinner with Eleanor, who responds by "replacing" her with Zoey, with predictably awesome results. But sadly, Eddie's now all tied up with cockblocking Coop, who has co-opted Eddie to be his new best friend. (You know, the kind of friend who calls bullshit on your inappropriate-touching disorder, causing you to give a cryptic smile that may or may not mean it's imaginary.) So Jackie finally tries using Thor's crush on Mo-Mo to get some pizza, which also fails.
The episode ends with two epiphanies: First, lupus daughter Stephanie's spelling test flashcards give Jackie a way to let a stroke patient tell his horrible family to fuck off. Second, as Jackie walks Stephanie through the valley of off-label pain management over the phone -- while downing her own drugs in tandem -- she realizes she's been spending all her compassion at work, while Gracie's still drowning at home.
Watching Jackie go from an immediate and respectful grasp of the situation, through her fierce protectiveness of the girl, to this last awful realization is really edifying, in terms of the way actors have to pace their emotional tone. It adds a very grounding note, which in turn, makes the whole thing ten times sadder, and realer, which is like the whole point of acting. If you're not watching this show, you should start. If you are, you should start watching, like, harder. Or more. Or something.
week: The meanest nurse of all time shows up looking to finish things up, and Coop's moms arrive at All Saints.
Discuss this episode in our Nurse Jackie forums, then see why vlogger Sean Crespo can relate to Jackie in No Prior Knowledge!
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Jackie's unnerved once again by some Grace Peyton original art, this one a landscape stuck to the fridge showing a windy beach, trees almost bent back from wind, angry black clouds dominating. "Who draws Florida with no sun? It's the goddamn sunshine state," she thinks. About her daughter. Who is standing across the room, grunting with the attempt to open a bottle of kiddie vitamins, eventually so frustrated she throws them on the floor. Kevin twitches, but Jackie just says she'll get it, and picks them up, moving around her daughter, who is standing right there.
The girls want to know why she always has to work, and Jackie tells them to give her a break. Fiona pops some french fries up her nose, being awesome, and Kevin tries not to laugh. "Fi, that's gross." She asks Jackie to stay home like one time, and Jackie says she will, but not today. "It sucks for me, too," she says. To her daughters. Fiona reaches out with a fry, for Gracie's nose, and she storms away. Jackie sighs, the inordinate pressure of Grace, the weight of her, like an angry black cloud, and Kevin tells her to breathe. Alone with her daddy, Fiona sticks a fry up his nose, and he grins to himself. "Pass the ketchup?"
Then it's later, and Mo-Mo's rushing past Jackie in ER reception -- "You haven't seen me" -- and is quickly followed by Thor, who asks after Mo-Mo. (I always wanted to write a novel about a twink's adventures in community theatre, entitled Pursued By A Bear. Drawbacks, as I see them: I know nothing about community theatre, and even less about the inner workings of the fragile urban stage twink. And to be honest, I was only motivated at this time by the desire to become Grace Paley, and perhaps more so by a strange logic that somehow made this another step in my quest to meet Paul Gross, which is still I think a modest but admirable goal.)
So yeah, Mo-Mo exits, pursued by a bear, and Jackie turns to Zoey, who's training in triage tonight. "Whatever they tell you, type in their file. Whatever they don't tell you but you know to be true, type in their file." They discuss the differences between day and night shifts -- "More stab wounds, more drunks; less nut jobs, less children" -- and the degrees of severity -- gunshots, stabbings, cardiac arrest; bleeders and shallow breathers -- and Zoey asks about the ones that can't breathe at all. "They are already dead," Jackie jokes seriously. "They go to the waiting room."
From a sudden cloud of red poppy smoke, Gloria Akalitus appears, sonorous voice clanging: "Correction..." She quotes the book and Jackie quotes right along with her, explaining that she was obviously kidding and that Zoey would have figured it out. "I am actually pretty smart," Zoey says, looking at a corner of the ceiling. "But also very nervous," she says, the words dribbling out onto her scrubs. "Can't relate," Akalitus says, and turns to Jackie so they can have a meaningless discussion about how come the whole cast is working nights, well, the reason is that Jackie sets the schedule and works with the people she likes. Unnecessary and distracting, but then there are plenty of people who will sleep better knowing they even acknowledged it to that degree, even if it means they have less to complain endlessly about on the internet.
So now Akalitus will worry at her about "socializing," and then interrupts her own self to yell at the security guard, who's joking around with a young nurse, putting his handcuffs half-on her wrists. "MICHAEL. Handcuffs? You're 43." The nurse scampers, and Akalitus keeps going. "You're a security guard! Go secure something!" Akalitus leaves, and separately Jackie and Zoey nod curtly in tandem.
This horrible Russian family -- or something, I'm nervous because I don't know what their deal is, and it's not racist if you admit it, so these... Balkans, let's call them, that's casting the net pretty wide -- they're yelling about their dying father not getting care and they're yelling about how the daughter Bebe is moving out if he dies ("Suck my dick," she says marvelously) and they're yelling about whatever clichéd mom stuff, and Jackie throws them all the fuck out, still yelling.
He's a little nervous, the stroke patient, but she talks smoothly and quietly and calmly, and tells him they're waiting on the MRI, but it's clear he's had a stroke. She asks him to smile first, and he tries. She asks him to lift his arms, and only one goes up. She asks him to speak, and his face twists. "Anything at all?" He tries. Really hard. She nods, and pats him. "That's okay. I hear ya." She rubs his shoulder.
There is a very pretty girl in triage who is fucking tired of waiting, and finally comes around to another window, yelling at Zoey that she needs a pregnancy test. She's distracted and crummy, but not so much of either that Zoey's perpetually perpetual weirdness nature doesn't throw her off. Jackie appears behind Zoey and notes that the woman has been in three times for a pregnancy test, in four months. She tries to blow Jackie off, but is reminded that she's in an ER, not a drug store, and when she complains about the price of such things Jackie slaps down a twenty and sends her on her way.
"Bitch," the woman says, and Zoey's jaw drops because she actually took the money. "Bullshit like that comes in all the time," Jackie says solidly, and then jokes/does not joke that she got the twenty off a guy in the morgue, anyway. She reassures Zoey that she was kidding, and Zoey looks into the far-off future of her weirdness. "I love jokes," she burbles. Zoey is really hard to recap without jumping straight to the metaphors, like Paula Abdul, but basically she says this as though she's talking about an obscure French dish she's never actually eaten, while at the same time as though she's talking about her best friend's little brother.
Jackie immediately snaps to when a little girl brings her mother in, wheezing, barely breathing, and sends Zoey for a wheelchair, talking to the girl like a grownup already. Her name is Stephanie, her mom has lupus. She's ten. They get the mom ready to head inside, and Jackie knows Stephanie's entire situation, so she brings her along.
The second they cross the yellow line, Gloria Akalitus appears and yells that she can't go in. Fifteen and under have to stay out of the ICU. "Blatant lie," Jackie says again: "That Nelson kid is only four, and he's in the ICU." Gloria points out that he's on a ventilator, but Jackie claims victory and tries to get the hell out of there. Gloria snags the kid, who lies and says her grandmother's on her way, so she snatches her up and says they can wait in her office. Jackie assures Stephanie she'll come get her, and walks off, muttering, "Grinchy fucker..." But there's something else there, a worry in Stephanie's eyes that's way too old for her face, and she knows she's seen it before.
"It's killing me, Kevin! She's ten, but she's still my baby. She's way too young to be so miserable!"
Kevin folds the laundry and tells her to calm down: "Can't have all my girls stressed out at once," he says, and then they both laugh about the essential unbreakableness of crazy Fiona. "Take a lot to rattle that kid's cage," Kevin laughs. "She asked for a blowtorch for her birthday." Jackie hopes aloud that it's a joke, but they both know it's not. "Funny maybe, joke no," he says, and tells her to chill out and stop worrying. It's going to be a long night. And just as he's saying he loves her, Eddie comes around the corner and Jackie hangs up with a "me, too."
Eddie hands her a fortune cookie and asks her to come visit later; she cracks it open as he grins smoothly to himself: You're pretty when you're tired. -- Eddie. Well, he's learning. That's miles above Me still so horny. She grins, and her back loosens up, but you know what Derrida said about pharmacists.
Whenever you see flashcards or crossword puzzles, start paying attention. That shit is like catnip for writers, because you can do whatever you want. Tell the whole story, in fifth-grade vocabulary: Inherit, says one card. Disguise, says another.
Gloria tells Jackie they're going to bring in social services if the grandmother doesn't show, and disappears. Jackie joins Stephanie at the desk, where she's poring over her flashcards. Confide, says the card.
"I have a spelling test," Stephanie explains (Daffodil), and goes back to it. Jackie notices a brightly colored folder in her backpack, covered in glittered rainbows and happy clouds, the color of chicken soup sunshine. EMERGENCY INFO, it says in puffy letters. "What was her blood pressure this morning," Jackie asks quietly and offhandedly, and without a pause Stephanie looks up: "120 over 80." Jackie asks if the grandmother's even really coming, and Stephanie looks away. Disguise. Confide. "Wanna see your mom?" Stephanie smiles, and Jackie carefully replaces the folder.
Then it's later, and Dr. Cooper's looking at the mom's X-ray. "This is the daughter," Jackie explains, and even more quietly: "Her name is Stephanie. She's ten. Be cool." Which of course sets off the twitching, flailing mess that is Coop attempting to be cool. "Oh great! Hello there, Stephanie, how are you? I'm Dr. Cooper, want a sticker?" It's hard to figure out whose hand is limper in the handshake, as Jackie and Stephanie consider punching him in the face. "She's ten, not two." He drops the Barney act and says, in an accusing tone, "She's a kid." Right, but of all people would Jackie Peyton bring a "kid" into the ICU if the kid couldn't handle it? "Show her some respect, please."
Coop gets a little high and mighty about the possibility of Jackie not being right in every single circumstance, which she is, and pulls rank ("Let me do my job"), which means a boob-grab is two steps away, because no way is Jackie sitting still for that. Coop's job, she whisper-shouts, is to provide the patient with the best possible care. "Which includes informing the caregiver of her condition." She stabs the air: "She is the caregiver. Get your head out of your ass." And... There's the boob-grab. Jackie almost punches him, and scoots instead.
The first time I ever noticed the whole flash-card/crossword thing, the ease with which you could use it if you wanted, was a short story in one of those Datlow/Windling fairytale anthologies, a Patricia McKillip retelling of "The Snow Queen," in which the keyword of Andersen's story is discovered in a funny sex joke about crossword puzzles. Great story, seek it out. But then, I always loved Andersen and Wilde fairytales the best when I was very little. Maybe it's genetic.
I just couldn't really get into the Grimms: all the boys did was poke around where they weren't wanted, and the girls were worse, they'd just sit there and have horrible shit done to them. Rose Red, I liked her, and the Twelve Dancing Princesses, all that imagery, and some of the ones with animals. Mostly they just didn't feel relevant. I mean, it's not really a mystery why I didn't feel a point of entry in those stories, or why giant queers like Andersen and Wilde, um, provided more meaningful or edifying mythology for the man I would one day be?
But "The Snow Queen" was and is still my favorite, even more than "The Little Mermaid," which also seems really obvious to me now, parenting-wise, which is also why Gloria Akalitus fills me with both love and dread. I didn't really care about Kay and Greta, because they went from stupid to miserable and back to stupid again like fairytale people always do, and he's some kind of S&M drug addict, and she just has to wade through miles of shit. But just when she's about to give up, and it's all ice and snow and wolves and bullshit, along comes this very intriguing character, the Little Robber Girl. She's everything Greta can't be, that Greta desperately needs to figure out, stat: A champion, a girl who plays outside the lines. She doesn't mind showing Greta the ropes, as long as Greta remembers that she's a wild thing. She helped me out immeasurably.
It's later, and Coop has decided to make Eddie be his best friend, because Eddie has a motorcycle, and Coop totally loves motorcycles, except he can't ride them because -- as Eddie immediately perceives despite Coop's ass-covering lies -- his mom(s) can't handle the thought. Coop wants to have Quiznos for lunch, Eddie wants to fuck Jackie for lunch, but Coop wins, because in his way he is as unsinkable and unbudging and irresistible as Zoey with her heart set on something, so now Eddie's stuck.
Mo-Mo shivers outside with Jackie, smoking and sipping: "My stalker bought me coffee. Should have said no, but he got to stare at my ass as I walked away so it's a win for both of us." Jackie loves Thor aloud for a moment before asking after the odious Randy. Mo-Mo squeals that things are awesome with Randy, they got a flatscreen and Randy let him watch the Jets even though skating was on. (Perhaps Randy can star in my novel, he sounds like a handful. Never trust a man with a cat for a pet, it's like the girls with the big purses.) Mo-Mo, who doesn't know about Eddie and apparently doesn't know about Kevin either, starts talking about setting her up, seriously, and she gives him an amazing deadpan: "Seriously, do not."
Mo-Mo changes the subject to the improbable but imaginative choice between George Clooney's cock and his cup of Thor blend: he'd go coffee. (I prefer not to think about George Clooney's penis. When I try to imagine it, it's like the tux fly comes open and there's just this bright shining light, and like a CNN crawl or a stock ticker. It's like the end of The Matrix movies in there.) "Clooney's got a house on Lake Como," Jackie points out, and the cup of coffee screams, "I have a timeshare in the Catskills!"
"YOU ARE A HEALTHCARE PROFESSIONAL!" Akalitus screeches, having appeared out of thin air for the third time already. "STOP SMOKING!" Jackie points across the way to the clutch of doctor-smokers, which deliciously includes the head of Pulmonary herself. "Keep movin', Gloria," she says, and all the doctors laugh, and Gloria stomps off to yell at somebody about something.
The Bloc-heads continue to be assholy, and Jackie tries to explain how strokes work, and that he's still in there, but you have to chill and not yell. Which is tough, because that's all they do because they are a stereotype, but also because Mom Cliché gets all up her ass about thank God the stupid nurse knows her husband better than she does, et cetera, and this goes on a while, and then Jackie tells them once again to cool it or get the fuck out, with Zoey nodding behind her. "This is a hospital," she says, and Zoey coughs: "We're here to save lives." So of course who arrives looking for a nosh but Dr. Eleanor O'Hara, with some poor chump's blood artfully spattered across her coat like a beautiful sexy movie with a jarring ending, and so Jackie stares at her, because way to undermine.
Jackie, since the whole Coop Quiznos thing is unbeknownst to her, begs off lunch in the hallway, and Eleanor goes, "Sorry, have we met? What's more fulfilling than dining with me?" God, nothing. "I'll go," says Zoey from her requisite and always startling position three steps behind, and Jackie and Eleanor share the look they share whenever Zoey does something other than cringing, and Eleanor immediately accepts. Jackie can't believe it, but Eleanor -- tossing her jacket over her shoulder and into Zoey's arms, without looking of course -- laughs. "That's how easily you're replaced!" Zoey dances awkwardly with the jacket for a moment, skipping along behind them. This is going to be amazing.
Oh, no waiting! At that restaurant, Eleanor is looking cougar-crazy in an expensive jungle print, while Zoey is wearing fuzzy soft pink scrubs with bunny faces everywhere. She looks like a mental patient, but then, without the context of knowing who she is, that's probably true a lot of the time. Zoey spazzes quietly for no reason, and Eleanor finally shakes her head. "Small fork. Work from the outside in."
Zoey exclaims that she's just excited, to be eating in such a great place, and with a doctah, she Britishes, and Eleanor nearly cries. Some people stare at them, going by, and Eleanor just explains that it's a Make A Wish thing. They nod, and Zoey of course waves and smiles at them, all friendly, in that way she does sometimes where you wonder if what we hear is precisely what Zoey is hearing. Well, in this case it is:
"I think it's really interesting how you use humor to cover up your real emotions. Somebody in your past must have really hurt you. And I'm sorry for that. Because I think you're one of the most generous people I've ever met." Zoey sips her OJ from a wine goblet, out of a straw, and still manages to do this in a zanier, more insane manner than it just naturally would be.
"Darling," Eleanor explains carefully. "The point of these little feasts is to eat. And never to dip into... Whatever the... Hell that was. So if you think you've got a rat's last chance in hell of getting a pudding, you'd better come up to the surface where I can breathe." Zoey nods. "subject," she says, and Zoey barely breathes, gamely joining her: "My dad's in prison for manslaughter." Eleanor's eyes light up like a million sandy Florida beaches. "Fabulous! Go."
That was even better than I thought it would be. My God, those two. So Jackie comes around the corner into the Harmacy, and is surprised to see one dick where she was expecting another. "Pull up a chair!" Eddie says, Coop brandishing his sandwich excitedly. Jackie stutters, no cover story and nothing forthcoming, and grabs a bottle at random. Eddie has the saddest I'm Fucked face of all time, and Jackie's just irritated.
"She's kinda, you know," says Coop when she's gone, "Grrr. I am Jackie, bow to me." Eddie knows that. "But I did grab her boob once, she was cool about it," he says, in a very toolish offhanded fratty way, and Eddie cocks his head. "Her boob. Really." Coop sits with it for a sec, munching on his Quiznos, and nods. "Now you think I'm a perv. Swear to God, it was a total accident. I have this... Neurological thing? Like a physical stutter?"
Which is what I was talking about a month ago, with the airquotes and Fitch Cooper, because that was either A) a laddish lie meant to use in the company of men, to regain power over Jackie by objectifying her, which he then had to repurpose when he realized Eddie wasn't playing that game, and come clean about the neurological thing; or B) the opposite of that, because there is no neurological thing, and he really does just do the boob-grabbing thing because he's scared of powerful women, about which more later; and it occurs to me that there's an even more horrifying option C, which is that he doesn't even know anymore.
Eddie is firmly in Camp B, laughing angrily now: "You're so full of shit." And the way Coop's nervous laugh becomes an embarrassed one, under Eddie's serious, almost murderous gaze... I think C. I'm going with C. Behaviorally speaking the distance between narcissist and addict is nonexistent.
Thor's hanging around when Jackie comes back, and having been co-opted out of two lunches now, she can't be faulted for whispering, "You didn't hear it from me, but Mo-Mo wants a slice of pepperoni pizza and a sugar donut." He thanks her for the tip and offers some stylistic advice -- "asymmetrical bob, and the slightest touch of bronzer..." -- which she cuts dead with a curt thank you, and she's on her way.
It's time for mom to get discharged. Jackie takes an extra long amount of time, and care, in arranging the woman's jacket, all the while reassuring Stephanie that she can handle this. Mom's already better, it's going to be okay. She pats her softly, and goes back to mom's jacket, and all the time Stephanie watches her: the care with which Jackie arranges her mother, speaks softly, touches her kindly.
Then it's later and Jackie's giving Eddie hell about his lunch date with Coop -- "What , he's gonna buy you a houseboat?" -- and the whole time Jackie's ravaging the Harmacy, taking down bottle after bottle, because their insurance is for shit and somebody's gotta show her the ropes, and she's so strong already, and he calls her a good egg and she disagrees, and he goes in for a kiss but only gets a peck, and the whole time she's clearing the shelves, while they talk, and it's all for Stephanie.
For Stephanie's mom, I mean.
"You have my cell, day or night, and Dr. Cooper told me to tell you what a great job you're doing. He's very impressed." She hands the bag of pills over to Stephanie, who declares that she could have gotten them for herself. That she didn't need the help, but accepts it gratefully. Jackie laughs expansively, a laugh she doesn't really feel, and reminds her she's got more important things to do, like that spelling test tomorrow. Stephanie steps through the doors and Jackie, not wanting to lose sight of her, calls out, "Daffodil!" She spells it perfectly, and leaves smiling, looking so young, and Jackie watches through the glass until they're out of sight, looking so tired.
Jackie picks up some dropped flashcards on the floor around her desk, listening to the East Europeans screeching at each other, and pulls out a marker and some bright yellow cards from her desk. Jackie brings the cards in, to the stroke patient, and Cliché Mom clichés and bitches, and when she hands him the cards he knows exactly what to do. He hands two to his wife: Shut the fuck up, a card says. Seriously, a card says. He sighs and stares at the ceiling, and Jackie almost winks at him. Work from the outside in.
Akalitus finds a taser on the floor and boards the elevator, screaming "Danger!" and calling bullshit on everybody in the world and complaining that she's running a special ed playschool, and of course immediately tasers herself. The doors close and she goes down, all her things flying everywhere, and when Thor approaches a few seconds later and the doors open, she's still flopping around like a mermaid out of water. "Been there, sister. Fifteen minutes and you're good as new." He tries to help her up, but she struggles.
Jackie nags at Mo-Mo for eating her ill-gotten pizza and donut, but Mo-Mo says he earned them: "Um, I had to listen to Thor perform three new songs from his club act?" He leaves, and Jackie spots the shoes of Akalitus peeking out from beneath a sheet, like the Witch of the East. "I see your feet... I can spot a pair of Easy Spirit Career Collection from twenty paces." Finally, Gloria pulls the sheet down and shows her face. Her hair is all a mess. She gives a rattled-off complaint about how this was a direct result of a lack of pride in the maintenance of the integrity of the workplace of latter-day saints or whatever, and Jackie notes the angry red taser-bites on her chest.
Before Jackie can remark on this, an ass-naked guy with gown aflutter comes running by, pursued by a Thor, and Zoey abruptly clotheslines him, both going down, and she hops up again with her arms in the air like she's sticking a landing, cheering herself on: "Got him!"
Jackie assures Gloria, not unkindly, that she's okay, and they'll see her tomorrow. "I'm not what you think I am," Gloria says quietly, and Jackie gives her a really? face. Gloria nods: Okay. "I am. I know you do what you think you have to, to get the job done. But I have been fucking the system for over 30 years. There's not a move in this repertoire that I haven't already seen." Jackie nods, and looks up and to the side before walking away. "We'll see."
Jackie spots Eddie smoking on the street and smiles, then ducks behind a pillar when she sees he's with Coop. The Kevin phone rings and she thinks for a moment before walking away, in the other direction, to answer it.
The daffodil is known for being hardy. It blooms in the spring, although several species wait until autumn. While traditionally a golden yellow color, variants even in wild species show a variety of colors, in both perianth and corona. Its botanical name is Narcissus.
At home, finally done as the sun's coming up, Jackie looks exhausted and beautiful. She sits with Kevin in the kitchen, leaning back into his arms, with the sun flaring beautifully behind them. "There was this kid..." she says, and then changes the subject, except not really: "How's Gracie?"
He almost shudders, and holds her tighter. "Meltdown. Her pencil kept breaking and she couldn't... She fell apart." Jackie nods. "Okay." And again, letting it fall, letting it break and be true: "Okay." So we fix this. Kevin heads upstairs and she looks at the beach picture on the fridge.
I think if I'd had operating parents I wouldn't have loved the Little Robber Girl so much. I think when you're working right, that's what you are, for your kids: You fix the problems and stay out of the way. You give them what they need. You explain the way the world works, and you color outside the lines and you carry the heavy stuff, so they don't have to. But we're not just parents, ever: We're people, too. And so if Jackie's the Robber Girl for somebody else's daughter, some other Greta climbing up another cold mountain, all alone, looking for something she hopes she lives long enough to identify... I mean, doesn't that count for something?
It's cold outside, and bright. Jackie stares into space, thinking about the goddamn sunshine state, when her cell rings. She answers immediately: "Just breathe, honey." It's Stephanie: the regimen went down when they got home just fine, but now she's awake and she can't move her arm, it hurts too much. Jackie nods, and tells her to find a Percocet, "the blue one," and cut it with a butter knife. She moves along with the story, snapping her own little blue Percocet in half. She lifts her orange juice. "Give it to your mom with a little juice." She drinks it, down. "Okay," says Stephanie.
Jackie stares into space, thinking about Florida. It's cold outside, and bright. She thinks about Stephanie, and her mother; and Gracie, and her mother. About illness, and weakness, and the pain we think we're hiding from our children, until the day we realize that's impossible, and always was. When you admit you need a Robber of your own, before you rob her of something she'll never get back.
Jackie stares into space, thinking about Florida. It's cold outside, and bright.
"She'll be fine," she lies.
Discuss this episode in our Nurse Jackie forums, then see why vlogger Sean Crespo can relate to Jackie in No Prior Knowledge!