Dr. Scott: You said you wanted to be admitted. Your prayers have been answered, Mr. Monk. No, you can't speak or move. Don't even try. You're literally wasting your breath. I've injected 3ccs of tribusonol into your larynx. Do you have any idea what I do here every day? How many lives these hands have saved? How many lives they will save? Hundreds, thousands. That's my mission. It's why I'm here. I am the miracle man. Do you think I would let you, former-Detective Monk, or Dr. Graydon Whitcomb, or anyone stop me? Oh, by the way, I have some good news for you. I stopped that pesky nosebleed. You're welcome. I have some other news, not quite so good. You had an accident. At least, that's what your chart says. You were in a stairwell, you tripped. You suffered a concussion. Possible nerve damage, multiple fractures. Ah, it gets worse. I don't know how this happened. The name on this chart is Dale Butterworth. In four minutes, the day nurse - who is new to this floor - is going to walk in, read this chart, and administer a massive dose if intravenous tetracycline. [Monk tries to groan] Yes, I know about your allergy. Unfortunately, mistakes like this happen all the time.