I even wrote for a couple, “MASH” and “Diagnosis Murder,” but one was
essentially a comedy and the other was a mystery. But, even so, I had to spend a fair
amount of time talking to technical advisors to find out, in the first case, what drugs could
get a heart started; in the second, what drugs could make one stop; and, of course, to
make certain I got all that boring technical jargon down right.
I’ve asked people to explain the appeal of these medical dramas. Boiled down to
its essence, the answer seems to be that people live in such dread of falling into the
clutches of the medical profession that they require constant reassurance that doctors,
surgeons, and nurses, are all dedicated and compassionate. Of course there are always,
for the sake of comic relief, those occasionally cynical curmudgeons, but even they are
depicted as being, beneath their crusty facades, loveable miracle workers. And if, by
chance, you should wind up in the capable hands of that notorious cut-up, Dr. Hawkeye
Pierce, he’ll have you busting the stitches from your gall bladder operation with his non-
stop wisecracks.
But I have another theory. I suspect that the best thing about these shows is that it
allows the audience to spend an inordinate amount of time in hospitals without worrying
if their HMO will cover the visit.